Hands-on critical thinking and learning is ostensibly the most palpable sensation I have and may ever have. Some theory in psychological research methods I may never know. What I will know is the diease-wreaking solidification of potatoes due to overexposure of sun. Super-sweet corn is best frozen right after harvest. Tomatios have an underlying bitter tang, but smoothes out its sweet sensation on the tongue without much resistence. And flowers bloom from basil. Who knew? All of this in four hours of basil clipping, potato undercutting, and eating new species of fruit-bearing plant.
And this is only the first day at the UC Davis Student Farm and Market Garden. I could find myself melting into the limpid atmosphere exuded by the amiable smiles, the sun’s warmth, and food all around me. I was settled, first going through the desultory acts of signing safety procedures, reading informational pamphlets, and finding out where everything was. I wanted to be out on the fields, tending the land, bearing the fruits of my morning’s energy.
And when I did, I was in heaven. Exultant sensations flooded my blood veins, each pulse getting faster and harder every time my eyes met those of a yuka gold potato. Eureka. Potato roots surprise you like a panhandler finding prized gold in The Rush. One moment, bulbs of circular potatoes attach themselves to theis roots, then plucked by the knobs of your fingers. The next, much larger chunks would suddenly reveal themselves deep within the nitrogenous, fertile soil. These more prodigious beasts of starch would perfectly nestle themselves in deeper, water-contained soils, making you wrestle with it to be placed into the CSA market box compared to its more nimble, younger siblings.
I yearn for seasonal awareness, as Jessy has.
These heated summer mornings can take the life out of you for the remainder of the day. Much reconsideration is needed if this summer independent project is to be accomplished.
And if every United Nations meeting ran like the one in the DSC, we’d be in a much more copacetic world.
And this is only the first day at the UC Davis Student Farm and Market Garden. I could find myself melting into the limpid atmosphere exuded by the amiable smiles, the sun’s warmth, and food all around me. I was settled, first going through the desultory acts of signing safety procedures, reading informational pamphlets, and finding out where everything was. I wanted to be out on the fields, tending the land, bearing the fruits of my morning’s energy.
And when I did, I was in heaven. Exultant sensations flooded my blood veins, each pulse getting faster and harder every time my eyes met those of a yuka gold potato. Eureka. Potato roots surprise you like a panhandler finding prized gold in The Rush. One moment, bulbs of circular potatoes attach themselves to theis roots, then plucked by the knobs of your fingers. The next, much larger chunks would suddenly reveal themselves deep within the nitrogenous, fertile soil. These more prodigious beasts of starch would perfectly nestle themselves in deeper, water-contained soils, making you wrestle with it to be placed into the CSA market box compared to its more nimble, younger siblings.
I yearn for seasonal awareness, as Jessy has.
These heated summer mornings can take the life out of you for the remainder of the day. Much reconsideration is needed if this summer independent project is to be accomplished.
And if every United Nations meeting ran like the one in the DSC, we’d be in a much more copacetic world.
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