The new normal...

 "Beauty, is only skin deep."

I heard that a lot as a preteen, when permanent teeth, bugged eyes and a pouty lower lip were way too big for my head and my lanky, skinny self weighed all of 68# in seventh grade.
(Twiggy was full-figured compared to me.)
 
 Yep, that beautiful exterior is a trap.
We all fall into it from time to time.
It's only human.

I eventually outgrew that awkward stage that lasted way too long, but a few days ago
I found myself drooling over something that looked so damn pretty I wanted it.

I really wanted it,
and my brain never skipped a beat as it exclaimed, "Doesn't that look good!"

"That" was a quart basket of super sized , sweet, juicy, deep red strawberries.
They were fresh off the farm in a world class southern plantation farm store.
(I even bent down to catch a quick whiff,
and they smelled just as good as they looked.)

It took everything in my all organic farming being to, "Just say, NO!"
 I knew better...
 I know better...
Reprogramming "the new normal" is tough.

Those gorgeous strawberries were a fake Fendi. 

Residual analysis has tallied 54 different chemicals on those beauties, consisting of
known carcinogens, hormone disrupters, neurotoxins,
development and reproductive disrupters and honeybee toxins.
http://www.prevention.com/food/healthy-eating-tips/strawberries-contain-large-amounts-chemicals-and-pesticides

Strawberries are one of the fresh or frozen fruits to avoid, UNLESS you can buy organic.

Now, you know better, too.

Boycot the new normal,
because it is anything but normal.

Been waiting a lifetime...

As far back as I can remember, I have dreamed about being a farmer; glamorized the thought, actually.  The intoxicating scent of dirt in my hands, a wind-blown healthy glow on my face, and fresh country air in my lungs...this was my passion of passions. 

Had I had enough money or the smarts to land a scholarship, I'd have chosen Cornell University, hands down, back in 1975 and majored in agriculture.  I was lucky to walk the Cornell campus in awe, once.  Those beautiful ivy covered buildings stood as a holy temple of all things good and wholesome, releasing class after graduating class of savvy farmers who not only held the knowledge to feed the world but executed it with Ivy League style.  

...I was inspired there. 

...I felt whole there.  

...I could be completely me there.  

YES!

Umm,...No.

It never happened.  No money and even less brains squashed any hope.  I settled on SUNY @Buffalo and graduated with a B.S. In Laboratory Science. (Don't ask me why, for I have no clue myself how I got talked into taking my big sister's advice on a career choice,  "just because I liked science.")

Thirty-three years later after getting sidetracked, I pulled my dream together and finally bought a small farm.  I gardened for all those years, but it was nothing more than a glimpse of real life on the farm.  Boy oh boy, have I gotten an education. They call it, " The School of Hard Knocks".

Because I bought a place with hundreds and hundreds of blueberry bushes, I instantly became a blueberry farmer.  Since then, I've learned a few things about blueberries...and a lot about myself.

The journey has not been glamorous, in the least, but my desire is more alive than ever.

...I am inspired here.

...I feel whole here.

...I am completely me here.

YES!

2016 is my year to be a farmer full time, as I plan my retirement from my career in laboratory science.  I still want it as much as I did all those years ago. Maybe even more.

The intoxicating scent of dirt in my hands, a wind blown healthy glow on my face and fresh country air in my lungs are real, and no longer just a dream.

It is my passion of passions. 

Bonne Annee!

Happy New Year!