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A poet on poetry & politics.

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Gourd G@therer

Published: 11:11 AM GMT-07, Saturday, 10 November 2007

It’s daunting to have grown up with an educated gardener. My father followed (Lynn Classical) city high-school with county agricultural institute (Essex County MA, http://www.agtech.org/) where he majored in floriculture, intending to become a florist.

But he never did - instead he became a forest-ranger, milkman, & then (as required war-work) a skilled-trades factory-worker (at GE, inspecting large naval gears) for the rest of his life. But he gardened diligently in our back yard, so diligently, that I believed that gardening was something I could never master. Instead, I decided to become a poet.

That I’m doing a little bit of gardening here at Valley Village (Santa Clara CA)  shows me I now need to handle physical things  – not just these words.  Late last nite, after going to the Triton Museum (www.tritonmuseum.org) & then eating at Mio Vicino (www.miovicino-santaclara.com),  I salvaged 32 gourds from a trash-pile in nearby San Jose, & artfully displayed them in the gardens beside my bldg & the next.  They’ll be remarked upon; I’ll take some credit for them,  tho I didn’t grow them, I only re-arranged them.

It’s Fall here in NorCal, & seasonal (commercial) pumpkin patches abound, amazing me when I first saw them here – I’d somehow thought they were native to New England, only to be corrected by carolin who said they’re a New World fruit that migrated up from S. to N. America, traded by native tribes, like hers (the Cherokees.)  

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