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Writer's pictureSarah Brenner

Don't Be Compost Be A Storyteller

I harvested my little patch of garlic in the Chaos Garden last week. 113 bulbs of deliciousness! This was the smallest planting of garlic I've had in years...downsizing is my thing and includes the gardens.


You see, I've moved 52 times in my life, and those opportunities helped me see that belongings aren't very fun to lug around and life's complicated hobbies can be too much sometimes. I was lulled in my 20s and 30s to believe in accumulation. I didn't hesitate to add a new bowl, set of plates or side table to my collection. I filled a two bedroom home, then moved into a six-bedroom, then downsized into three and then back into two. I accumulated and purged many times over yet held onto boxes of old letters, awards and other memorabilia.


By the time I was forty, I had lugged these boxes around move after move. One day in pondering the basement storage space, it occurred to me that I was the only person who valued my trinkets. My son wouldn't want them. My husband wouldn't want them. Why was I hanging onto them? They suddenly seemed insignificant, trivial and useless. They were momentos of my life, but they were nothing but heavy boxes anymore. Their stories were in my heart and in my telling, not in the pages, awards or whatnots the boxes contained. Over the next few days I began to purge my childhood memorabilia, as well as stuff I no longer lived with in my daily life and projects that piled up in the garage. Instead of regret, I felt freedom. I felt so lightened by the purge, in fact, that I went farther and tossed more than I had imagined I would. Continuous clean out became a rule of thumb. I gave myself permission to let go of things marked with "someday." When someday came, I knew I'd be fine without them. I had discovered by then that I could live without most of the things I hauled around each time we moved.


Next week my parents are moving out of the home they've lived in for the past 45 years. It's hard to watch them make the discoveries that I made at 40. What we treasure and appreciate often has no place in the next generation. We have become a society of such accumulation that we are all looking to downsize, clear out, or otherwise simplify. We've also become a society of design whereby items from one house don't fit into the design aesthetic of another. It seems logical to me that perhaps one day we will buy houses fully furnished and already accessorized. If the space is well-designed, everything in a home can stay with it for many years instead of sending our stuff off to inundated thrift stores or overwhelmed landfills. We've hit the saturation level. I'm fairly certain the world doesn't need another insulated beverage cooler, serving bowl or colander...there are already enough in circulation.


As I ponder my own belongings and watch my parents downsize, I wonder what it is that future generations will want from us? I've come to the conclusion that they will want one thing and one thing only. They will want our stories. It is the stories of our human experience, our joys, our challenges and all that is our life that will one day be asked of us. Perhaps my son won't think to ask those stories until I am long gone, but I know the drive of awareness and the desire to understand himself will draw him to the questions. We all do it. As we age we want to understand who we are; why we do what we do. We have a deep need to understand ourselves and reflect on how family history, heritage, and experience contribute to our being.


We can pass down property, money or family heirlooms, but what will be reviewed and pondered and hopefully cherished are the life experiences we each share in our thread of humanity. We're all here contributing to this great big experiment called life, and in the end, we will be remembered only as one of the masses, individually forgotten if we don't tell our personal story. Our stories will give future generations an anchor, a pride and a level of understanding that heirlooms, jewelry or art cannot impart. Our stories will stand the test of time so should be shared, printed and saved then passed to the future as they become the present.


We're all just destined to become compost if we leave without our stories told.


How's Farmin' This Summer?


It has been so wet that the crops look terrible. Of course, the weeds on the organic ground are happy as can be, so weed pressure is wild! It hasn't been warm enough to get the growth we need to shade the weeds out. The corn is yellow and sickly looking, the sunflowers are craving heat and drier feet, but the hay is lush and green! Maybe the rains will hold off so William can cut, rake and bale Second Crop Hay this week. Fingers crossed.


The blueberry pickers have been out in full-force at our neighbor's Rush River Produce, the last few weeks, so I've been busy making new soups and treats for the Farm Store. I'm tickled that folks have finally discovered how delicious our sunflower oil is for cooking. Also selling well is our yummers salad dressing made with our sunflower oil, our apple cider vinegar, our maple syrup and our mustard. Yep, it's full farm except for the salt! Last Fall I also made a balsamic vinegar so have a new Balsamic Vinaigrette this year. Both our dressings are my favorites. Biased, I know... Thank you to everyone who has given them a try!


There will be a couple more weeks of berry picking with Thursdays being the best day. Make sure to call John or Terry (phone number on their website link above) to get a picker's report. We'd hate for you to come pick on a day they decide to close after being picked out the day before.


The SUNFLOWERS are still a couple weeks away it seems.


Stay well.


Sending love from Fransconsin Farmlandia,


Sarah



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Guest
Jul 26

"Their stories were in my heart and in my telling"

Very well said. Thank you for this.

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