^found a camper’s letter to another camper this afternoon. Totes adorbs.
You know what I’m good at? Walking into a pre-established environment, being a newbie, and learning the ropes. I don’t like too much responsibility. I like jobs like restaurant gigs because my presence isn’t the most crucial thing. Being a manager would terrify me. I like helping out at the garden downtown, but truly being in charge of those chickens and plants would drive my anxiety up the wall. This tendency even creeps up in dating; as soon as someone starts counting on me, peace out. If I could be a hermit and have no one depend on me, I’d be content.
But not really.
And there comes a time when you’ve gotta get over your commitaphobe, can’t-fence-me-in mentality. You’ve got to actually do things that matter, take on responsibility, and start doing those things you secretly have wanted to do for years.
Enter, this summer camp. Stage left.
Here, I’m the garden coordinator. I’m in charge of mapping out the greenhouse (which Drew, the program director, and I did this afternoon), working within the budget for supplies and plants, and coming up with lesson plans that will not only entertain kids, but hopefully instil in them a sense of responsibility for the earth. There’s no compost bin here; I’ve got to start that, and Drew and I are building it tomorrow.
Not going to lie, starting something is super overwhelming for me. I choke at the idea of failure and disappointing anyone. I’m sort’ve terrified that there aren’t pre-packaged lesson plans and an already working greenhouse for me to mesh into.
The good news is, I’m sick of being transient and undependable. I want to be part of something that matters. I want other people to care about animal husbandry and sustainable food systems, so why hang out on the sidelines hoping someone pulls me out there with them? I want to teach people things that matter, so I’ve got to go learn those things.
Here’s to learning new things (like how to build a compost bin, cool down the summer greenhouse, and writing up seven weeks of lesson plans) and bringing what you’ve learned to everyone else.
Check out the start of our compost; egg shell, two coffee filters with grinds, two banana peels, a mushroom that fell on the floor, and grapefruit peels.
pretty things aren’t always good things. (see; poison oak)
How to build a compost bin from a trash bin.
And what to do with a greenhouse in California summers.