Today was my final day working for the State of Maryland. It has been a good 3.5 years but my heart and soul were suffering. I will miss my boss and colleagues but not the spreadsheets (I feel like I said this before, Ha!). My next steps are scary but they should be more exciting than 8 hours in a cube. I am fortunate to have the opportunity to follow my dreams and start a career based in something I am passionate about.
I am amazed that I have completed the fist 3 goals already, and Nick has a plane ticket for June (he is deathly afraid of flying).
My Health Coaching journey is in its second week and I am focusing on getting people to grow their own food to have a sense of pride and control in their health. I’m starting with my own garden, which though lots of drama, we finally got assigned yesterday.
We have acquired plot 2B – about the width of the little fence and half way to the parking lot. I need to actually measure it to see how many plants I can fit in there but here is my wish list:
- pole beans
- tomatoes – cherry and heirloom
- peppers – sweet and jalapeno
- parsley, basil, rosemary, mint, cilantro
It seems to be a lot but there won’t be a ton of each and I have done a bunch of research this year on spacing and how to plant them in a raised bed.
I am trying to channel my inner agrarian maternal lineage. My Great-Grandfather on my mother’s side was a farmer and represented Iowa in the US Senate from 1913-1945. Now he did have mainly cows, but I think back in the day there was no such thing as a single crop farm.
I leave you with a poem he wrote during his time in the Senate – it reminds me of the early days before the farm bill with Butz and the New Deal was still law.
Farmer in Assembly
How dear to my heart is the lure of the farmyard,
With the grass growing green and the buds on the swell;
Makes me want to get out of this old legislature-
But the time of adjournment seems as far off as May.
We work mighty hard to make laws for the people;
The folks who are watching us think it’s all sham.
The people at home keep on sending petitions
Which if they only knew it don’t amount to a cent.
I guess I’ll just leave this uninteresting session;
They can run the blamed thing without me, hit or miss.
Bills? I eat’em and dream of ‘em;
yes, and I spend ‘em.
But here my stenographer comes for a letter!
– Walter H. Beam