You are unlikely to find a more generous group of people than gardeners.
I didn’t fully appreciate this until I began the course to become a Master Gardener. We meet every week for 16 weeks, plus small groups of us do special projects together. At each of these meetings, we gardeners share the bounty of our yards, our lives and our kitchens.
The first week a member of the class brought basil seedlings. “Take as many as you want!” She said.
The next week, snacks included more broccoli than a supermarket, and some of us got to take home extra bags.
This week we were treated to home baked breads, fancy hummus, fruit salads, and yet another member of class brought bags of bananas from his tree to give away.
Another member of class was giving away oranges and flowers in the parking lot.
It is amazing and humbling.
We also share knowledge. Of the roughly 30 people who meet each week, the range of experience is quite diverse. Some people have their own plant-related business. Some are retired and have been home-gardening for 40+ years. We all bring something to the table; I come home with at least 8 pages of notes each week.
It is a privilege to be a part of this group. One’s generosity is contagious, and makes me want to give more. Be more thoughtful. Treat our Earth and the plants we depend up with a little more love.
Gardening feels like an act of resistance. Resistance to the consumer-based, processed-fast-food plastic culture we live in. This is community building, knowledge sharing and skill creation all at the same time. None of us are paid for our time, we volunteer, as an act of service to our communities. In these difficult economic times, that is proof to me that our humanity is bigger than economists would like us to think. We are rich in spirit.
Most importantly being part of this group has shown me the need for more of us. If one Master Gardener shares their love, generosity and knowledge with 10 other people, and those 10 people pass along that positive energy, and so on:
Gardeners might just Save the World.