As the sun set too early on my organic garden plot yesterday, I noticed the first fruits of my labor -- green beans. Almost camouflaged, a little scrawny, but there they were in all their glorious beanness. I plucked one off, split it in thirds and shared with my neighbors. Crisp, tasty and only dirty from actual dirt.
This week I interviewed an entrepreneur growing gourmet mushrooms out of coffee waste, and listened to Blake Mycoskie speak about his revolutionary (and kind of 'duh') idea of founding TOMS shoes. I spoke to some Gainesville goldens about carving vases and goblets from discarded wood and traipsed through the farmer's market sampling kim chi and banana bread. Last night, during my job search, I read an article about non-profit newspapers faring best of all in this economy.
When I open my eyes wide enough, life is always speaking to me in patterns, ideas and messages. Despite my recurring itch to get out of the country every couple months, the power of local food, journalism and art is a seductive concept. And while it seems like a modern trend to embrace the "Think Globally, Act Locally" idea, Gandhiji knew the only route to real wealth was from sustainable communities -- not state or national governments.
I've got more ideas than I know what to do with. So for now, I'll focus on the green beans.