It Ain't Easy Being Indian
Friday, April 04 2014
Written by Ricey Wild,
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ricey wild.jpgYet more wintry weather is on the way and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I mean, really??? Eh … I along with all the other people who are suffering severe winter-itis are beyond ready for spring. Shoot. The first mosquito that bites me this year I won’t even smack it, I’ll just let it feast until it bloats up and falls off my skin. But only the one though.

To come out of this endless winter somewhat sane I have taken to pretending that every new snowfall is the first one of winter because that’s the only way I can save myself from going bat-shit crazy. Another thing I’m doing is I joined a gardening class! In Ojibwe language it’s “Gitigaan” and it was great. There were Indian tacos to eat and prizes; I won and picked out organic stuff for soil. I saw a lot of familiar faces that already are long time gardeners who have a lot of knowledge I need to begin my own little garden.

Last year in June I became a Master Naturalist so I’m pretty sure I will be able to handle a 3-by-6 foot raised container garden. If and when the snow ever melts, it could happen … maybe. Prior to this next adventure I liked to joke about my amazing dandelion 'garden' and that people came for miles around to see it but I’m serious about becoming a gardener, a grower of vegetables and herbs so I can eat healthier. I read a lot and what I’m reading about genetically modified organism (GMO) crops scares me because we the public don’t really know what is in that produce! Ewwww!!!

I want to grow my own foods, beginning with baby spinach steps, because then I know what it is I’m consuming will have no ill effect on my health unlike GMOs that were created in a laboratory. Believe me I am no survivalist type of person who expects world annihilation any hour now but neither do I volunteer to be a guinea pig for the big food industrial companies. One Facebook meme I read made me think more about GMO foods: whoever controls the food controls the people. Yikes!

“It’s all about money ain’t a damn thing funny in this land of milk and honey” … (Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five? Help me out here plz!) So yeah, it’s all about the 1 percent at the top of the pyramid who is behind the Frankenstein foods we probably unknowingly eat because they don’t have to list it as such. So here am I, a misplaced urban Indian who prefers fresh, unpolluted food. Gonna make me a vegetable garden!

When I was a kid, maybe eight, nine years-old my ole Paw sent me to his garden to pick string beans. I remember it was really hot; I was sweating and grumbling under my breath about child labor laws. ;D Later when I ate the beans with melted butter I could have swooned the taste was so delicious. While I lived in the Big City I got my fresh veggies from farmer’s markets because I came to think let them do the work. I know! Don’t judge me, I know! Anyways I couldn’t grow anything outside when living in apartments most of my life as I have.

All this information on how to garden is new to me so when I heard there was going to be a presentation on worm composting I got the creeps. Unable to stop my utterance I asked if there will actual live worms? “Yes” was the answer but I felt silly like I was back in school having missed the previous day’s class. Afterwards my ears perked up when someone said ‘wolf’ so I listened in. A woman was talking about her garden and that she saw a wolf, the conversation turned to bobcats too and again I could not help myself butting in. I said, “Wolves and bobcats don’t eat vegetables!” (Dah!) The pair of them looked at me then said the wildlife were after deer. Oh. Okay…um, just kidding?

Twenty-six years ago I was massively and miserably pregnant for over 10 months with my only child, my son Steven Ross. He finally made his debut on April 7, at 3:26 a.m. the first baby born that day in the Big City hospital and he was also the loudest! Nothing has changed that characteristic about him; he’s one of those people who when they walk in the room you know they’re there. Now my grown son told his ole Maw what he wants for his birthday. He wants a tattoo. It better be a big heart with “MOM” inside it! Heeehehee!

Happy Birthday son, I love you! Now about that tattoo … ?

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