There’s a sweet little name for a carrot that pops up in a row of onions, or among the cucumber hills. It’s a volunteer, and it’s there because of the tilling of soil or wayward breeze or last year’s compost or an errant bird who deposited it there. A carrot is a one season crop, ripped by it’s root to fulfill it’s destiny as an ensemble member in a winter stew, and so in my mother’s garden it’s allowed to squat as it will only disrupt the ordered rows for a season.
Basil and strawberries are different. They’re perennial, returning year over year with a bit more gumption than the previous. Basil prefers tomato neighbors, and tomatoes seem to vibe off of basil, too. And by virtue of their rarity, or the value of their inherent glory and sweetness, strawberries might rearrange the layout in future years to allow their rhiozomy ways to blossom and potentially yield jam.
Every summer Sunday since 1999, my mother has included the garden report in our weekly phone calls. She isn’t a jam maker per se, but does create a strawberry sauce from sugar and water and garden berries that is perfectly paired with literally anything. It is kind to yogurt and ice cream, but frankly I’d eat it on a Salisbury steak given the opportunity. It is the sort of life-giving magic only possible when berries travel less than 40 yards and never have to face packaging or refrigeration, and better still for the patience required and the aroma that lingers into tomorrow.
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Howdy, and welcome. A few things have changed around here.
First, this email is coming to you from Substack rather than ConvertKit. In full disclosure, I’m grateful to have such a cadre of reading supporters that I have historically paid a hefty fee ($700/year) for the privilege of emailing you all. It is a privilege, and I adore it, and also, I am not in a position to continue to pay to connect. This logistical migration makes a few things possible. Number one is that Substack does the heavy lifting of keeping you all deliverable, whether you’re in the free or the paid category. Two, you could choose to sponsor my writing (and med school prep) with a paid membership, although that is not why I ported you over.
You’ll notice now that you receive a weekly email on Sunday rather than a monthly-ish email near the first-ish of the month. Maybe you read the opening bits, maybe you don’t. In the monthly full access letter, you’ll be reminded of other ways to connect, as you will see in the bowels of this email.
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Recently, in a conversation about my foray into pre-med pre-requisite coursework, someone suggested I might be a ‘late bloomer.’ This is entirely possible, although frankly I’ve felt flowery before this. I’ve stage managed and published a book, attended myriad births and deaths, and can change the headlights in a Honda Fit, for crying out loud. Instead, I’d prefer to think of myself as a wayward strawberry plant that sought out a more favorable position with water and shade, and blossomed for quite a few years before developing the confidence or inner strength and substance to bear fruit.
Historically, I have quit easily. Broken glassware in organic chemistry, and a bit of squeamishness at injection training tanked my 2003 confidence, but in 2023, I live with a person who protects my quiet study time and lovingly confronts me when I feel med-school quit-ish after earning a D on a quiz and instead suggests I go for a run and makes me mashed potatoes. I cry while I’m running, partially because there are just too many forms of RNA to keep straight, and partially because everyone runs so much faster than I do, and also because now that I have adequate iron in my blood I can be angry and not just gasp. While I run, I listen to Jen Sincero tell me that I’m a Badass on repeat. I sit on the patio and eat love in the form of carbs and then hit the books and the YouTube and the text-based lifelines of dear friends who have sauntered before me and beside me.
Weekly I write this thing, and dozens of you pay my utility bill and a small but mighty portion of my tuition. Loads of you sing my praises and join in ongoing conversations of teaching and learning and study and exploration.
I guess I’m feeling fruity now, having made it through some dark winters and replantings.
Maybe you are, too? Or maybe not yet. And that’s ok. My wish for you is that you seek out favorable soil, and quality lighting conditions, and water and nourishment and adequate light (and perhaps less UV exposure… it’s a DNA thing). If someone calls you a later bloomer, you can smile and instead consider how many years and how much effort it took for you to root substantively in a space where you feel cozy enough to blossom and fruit and return and endure.
Congratulations on being a perennial, my friend.
Thanks for reading,
K
PS: Opportunities to connect in October include:
The Better Boundaries Book Club, which starts October 9th
It’s [virtual], and you pick your priceYoga & Pregnancy 3 hour training 10/28
Full Moon Yin 10/28
Weekly yoga - Mondays at Better Buzz, Saturdays at White Lotus
Tell me more about the full moon yin!