Back in June, I posted some photos of a rice paddy close to my house that I’d found comfort in during a time of doubt. On Sunday, I found myself in similar doubt, staring at a bag of dirt that I’d picked up at the herb shop. On the small rectangle label, there was only one English word, written in a large, pink font: ORGANIC.
Initially, this word was the reason I’d chosen that particular bag, but now it struck me a little differently. Shouldn’t dirt, of all things, just be organic? At what other time in history would dirt have been advertized as organic? I suppose there have been chemicals around for centuries, it’s not as recent as I’d like to believe. And, at least now, we’re increasing our awareness of the messes we’ve made.
Anyway, I decided to go back to the little patch of rice and see how things were going. The sun had just dipped behind the small mountain when I arrived, but everything seemed well and as it should be!
Now, I’ll just have to go back in October, when the green turns a golden blaze…