In the moments before a good thunderstorm, the static and energy in the air is so thick you can nearly see it. The atmosphere is heavy and damp, stifling as you breathe it in. When the sky finally opens up and it lets loose a torrential rain, soaking the ground, clearing the air. A bruised sky plopping fat hail onto the earth is something to be admired, savored.
And then, when it’s over, the air is clean and the breeze on your skin is cool. The world drips with water and everything is a little greener than before.
The act of putting something in a jar is about preservation, is about keeping that object around as it is for a long time. I have a collection of glass containers and inside that collection are objects that have been picked up and kept out of sentiment, value, or interest.
Last year, I went to Alvira, PA with my aunt and picked up a groundhog skeleton. Between then and now, my attempt at curing the bones failed and it began to grow some very neat looking mold which attached it’s self to a bird’s nest. The bulbs were from the backyard of my old apartment. While gross in formation, I found the results to be gorgeous.
Being able to grow my own food is something I have become really invested in the last few months. Through research and hands-on experience, I have found a sense of pride through watching seeds sprout and grow into real looking plants. I can’t imagine how excited I will be when I can pull plump tomatoes off the vine and grill my own squash.
While I don’t know if my plants will really yield all that much, since there aren’t very many of them, I like the idea of starting to grow things and become part of the growing and harvesting cycle, even if only to provide small amounts of food for myself. I like the thought of a big, green garden. I like to dream of a cellar full of beautiful canned tomatoes, fruit jams and gorgeous potatoes.