What Happened During Open Garden When the Angels Blew Their Horns

And so it happened, the big moment when the angels blew their horns and the skies cleared and I saw, in full glory, the reason why I have been flinging open my garden gate each week and inviting whoever wants to show up to come and share in the chores and joys of an organic kitchen garden. The kids (there are up to 15 kids each week, plus parents) knew it, too, and together we pretty much gasped at the realization.

Here's what happened.

The kids were making paper (which has turned into their favorite thing to do in the garden), and they had gotten so proficient at it that I was no longer involved. They scrambled around the garden, adding herbs and straw and hairy vetch to the blender, plus scraps of junk mail and newspaper and other stuff. After they had made four sheets of paper, speckled with blue from that flyer that came home from school for about the fifth time, it was pretty much time to leave.

The kids cleaned up and all the parents had already left. A few of the kids and I were sitting in the straw munching on chickweed when one of them asked this question.

"Ya' know, if we leave scrap paper out of the pulp and just use things from the garden, then wouldn't that be edible paper?"

We all just sat there, jaws open, as it occurred to each of us in turn. Yes! That would be edible paper!

Immediately, we all started planning for the following week. I would need to clean all the equipment very well. The kids started looking around the garden and saying what they would include. We would let the edible paper dry and then rip it off and taste it at the following Open Garden (which, by the way, will be the last one this spring because of how hot is has gotten out there and we can't turn the sprinkler on because of the drought).

The excitement was palpable. And in that moment, I saw what fruit these Open Garden hours hade bore--kids who make connections beyond the borders of the box, who come up with original ideas that empower them, and who, I'm sure, will forever have a profound relationship with the seeds of possibility that grow in a garden. And, lest I overlook something important, these kids are patient. The thought of waiting three weeks from concept to conclusion on this project did not concern them at all, perhaps because they are still waiting for those radishes and carrots and potatoes that they planted to grow! Patience. Yes, the kids have moved to a new level of patience.

The edible paper moment was so powerful that this week, at Open Garden, when we talked about the idea, no less than three of the kids claimed it as their idea. Perhaps that is the sign of a great idea--everyone feels ownership.

And so they made the paper. They charged around the garden, choosing what was edible and what they had discovered tastes good. Sorrel, first of all, because they love that. Lettuce, mint, lemon balm, chickweed, all things they've tasted or smelled and liked. Those yellow flowerheads of the tatsoi plants that taste like broccoli. Yes, those made it in there, too. The kids' enthusiasm was contagious, and I noticed that several parents joined them in gathering things this week as well. Suggestions filled the air like honeybees. "If we bake the paper, wouldn't we have crackers?" one person suggested. "If we freeze the paper, then it won't rot," another added.

This photo is of the paper, still wet, and the hand of one of the children who made it. Still drying on my dining room table, the paper pulses with life, with hope, with promise. And, as a result of these past three months of Open Garden, so do I.


This week on FoodShed Planet:

* Indigenous cultures (or how I ended up with wattle seeds)

* A company whose actions speak louder than words

* Pesticide-free lawn update!

* Why Atlanta will make the news yet again (can you say Trucker Strike?)