First Parish in Needham Logo

23 Dedham Avenue
Needham, MA 02492

Writing Escape

by | Jun 3, 2020


The Thing that people don’t understand about me is…

I have a broad and bold vision of the world. The kind of possibility of a world of fairy dust with dew-natural nectar on delicate moss.

The kind of world most of us or at least many of us would like to live in with food growing in organic, Biodynamic yards with no fences. Roxbury apple trees and heirloom pears grow with which we make cider and pear crisp with candied ginger. White birch for medicine and pine needles for lung healing tea.

Homes where houses are tiny to medium in size and philosophy. Embedded within Net Zero practice and shiny solar reflectors or shingles and colorful art objects that generate energy.

Yards where children of many hues and diversities run from yard to yard on Native grasses. They skip on delicate pale blue flowers and buttercups. White clover are sprinkled in for pollinators and nitrogen fixing diversity.

Children and parents, neighborhoods grow food communally. The lessons of growing Three Sisters Gardens are whispered by the Spirit of First Nations Ancestors to the lands  where we walk.

Corns, beans and squash grown in mounds- the original raised beds for easy picking. These gardens are naturally perfumed by tobacco, the sacred plant medicine used to bless and shoo creepy crawlies also known as squash bugs from gorging full tummies.

It’s a world of social contract between human and tree, art and woman, homestead and bug, tomato and sun. It’s a place of wind and violet leaves, compost and shovel and man, child and dog. It’s a Time of Japanese Knotted and the tick, Milkweed and Monarch, water and the entire social and ecological fabric of life…

This is the world I want to live in.
I hope you might want to live there too.

May we get there or return there soon. May I and you and All of us commit to live here. And remember the ocean, remember the waves and the sea creatures, the turtles and river beds and the miraculous gills of a fish. May we remember the dance of a dragonfly on the Quinnobequin before you, we pour poison on this land that flows to this ancient water…