Editorial 11.4, April 2009, by Deirdre Helfferich Mud Puddles and (Unprotected) Greens It’s messy, this time of year. Seeds have been started in many households, which means bags and pots full of potting soil and dirt crumbs all over. Storage sheds are getting dug into (were did we put those mud boots?) and parkas are getting put away. The snow is melting, darkening as the accumulated winter’s soot and needles and other oddments are left behind by the melting ice crystals. Now is the time when everyone gets to splash around joyfully in mud and slush and giant lakes of dirty, ice-cold water, perfect for waking us up after a long winter’s sleep. Especially when that slush whaps us right in some tender, unprotected part, such as I saw on Easter Sunday, with all the kids getting into a snowball fight. It was really a slushball fight, and Rayna Nelson got a good one in to some boy on the opposite snow hill—pow! right on the neck. The poor kid looked cold, but he was laughing. (So was Rayna!) I remember vividly from my youth this sensation of cold, wet snow dripping down my neck. (Actually, I remember it rather vividly from just last year, assailant to remain unnamed, o not-so-noble spousal unit!) You’ve got to jump around a lot to get rid of the slushy snow that has dripped down inside your shirt, and then your clothes are still wet and cold in unexpected and quite often ticklish spots. Spring’s symbolism affects us in all sorts of ways, including political ones. The Alaska Legislature is soon to be out of its session, with senators and representatives home in time to plant late seeds for their gardens just before returning for the special session(s) that will inevitably be called. Bloggers around the state will be posting not quite so often (except for the truly obsessed) as that sunshine beckons, and just about everyone I know seems to have more energy, less patience for being indoors, and far more willingness to smile. Well, some of us—certainly the state’s political spectators are enjoying the Spring Mudfest in Juneau/Anchorage, what with the governor careening around like a drunken bull mistaking a barbed-wire-reinforced legislature for a china shop. The legislature, it is true, has been indulging in some Ramras-style poking, but I think they’ve been provoked, don’t you? But politics really seems to me a winter sport. Spring is a time of renewal, they say, when a person starts looking at the earth and thinking of the basics, like love, food, fresh air, splashing around in little puddles and making a manageable mess. At state level, it all seems sort of, well, piddling. So back to the real thing: Michelle Obama and her kids are planting an organic vegetable garden on the White House Lawn (hallelujah!) and the Mid America CropLife Association (lobbying organization for the likes of Montsanto and other agribiz) is having conniption fits because of it. In fact, they felt so threatened by the symbolism of an organic garden for the White House kitchen that they felt compelled to write a letter to the First Lady entreating her to remember all the good things about “conventional” agriculture. And they are so concerned that they are starting a letter-writing campaign. Hmmm. Here’s what they told their members:
Horrors! a pesticide-free—oops, my bad—“crop protection product”-free garden! To bring their point home, they made quite the deal of how important agriculture is for children—entirely missing the irony that children are far more susceptible to the dangers posed by pesticides and industrial fertilizers than are adults….maybe the national scene is just a silly as the state-level nonsense we’ve been witnessing lately. In the meantime, my heirloom tomatoes are starting to come up, along with my OS Cross giant hybrid cabbages; the cats are sitting on the seed flats from time to time (squashing would-be sprouts in the process) while they gaze wistfully out the window at the tasty little featherballs stuffing themselves on sunflower seeds; and our mutant war-scarred local squirrel, Igor, is dashing about checking for the stashes of seeds and cones that he left somewhere (he’ll remember in a minute) last fall, throwing the occasional spruce cone at the house to see if we’re up yet. Yep. Spring is here. And the loonies (along with everything else) are popping up all over. Duck!
The letter from MACA to Mrs. Obama can be read here: www.croplife.com/news/?storyid=1657 | ||
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