A shortcut to mushrooms. Sitting in a kitchen garden in the Scottish Highlands I was struck by a few truths. One, the nasturtium’s peppery flavor is best savored under an overcast sky like a secret shared by close friends. Two, digging one’s hands in the dirt half a world away from home still feels like a homecoming, even if you are ass over teakettle. Three, listening to the bee’s lullaby, breathing in the loamy earth, while dozing on the gravel path is time that can never be construed as not well spent.
This is where I found myself drifting for a few days whenever I could during a trip to my family’s origins. What was years of, “telling old stories, singing songs that make me think about where I came from” became eleven days of transference.
Wild mushrooms at Clava Cairns
The Autumnal Equinox is upon us. The time when the world (Northern Hemisphere) is beginning to turn inward and hunker down for winter. The long sleep. But many of us has been in a place of stasis. Waiting to get back to work. We are over the “rest”, aren’t we? We have lived through the long hot summer and it’s been lean for a while. We have had time to consider what we want and what it’s worth to us. Big players and small are working together to make it happen. I love pie, ask anyone. But this industry of mine is not pie. There’s enough to go around for all of us to have our own slice. Enough for me is not less for you, and vise versa.
As I see it, we have to fight for all of us. Those at the top, have to give so those at the bottom can get a piece of the action. Those in the room need to force the door open so others can get a foot in there too. We need more chairs at the table. We have to demand more levels of participation and opportunity.
Dun Telve Broch
A garden isn’t solely fully grown and established plants. It’s various stages of growth throughout. A successful garden requires a multitude of systems to ensure the sustainability of the entire enterprise. We work in a business, but we are all artists in our own right. Without us, the entire system collapses writ large.
The kitchen garden resides on an estate in the Highlands. The name of the land translates to “place of transference” in Gaelic. I met people there that became kin. We told stories and sang songs (and drank). In the middle of the property, there's a California Giant Sequoia. Fitting that my place of birth also has these trees, smells, flowers, and other similar feelings, including the loamy earth. This trip was unexpected and yet the wayfinding made perfect sense. Coming back to LA, I am renewed and refueled with purpose and resolve. We must solve this dilemma of compensation. Tell your story! Sing! I’ll raise a dram to ya - Slàinte Mhath!
Wayfinding in Torridon.