Notes from an Urban Farmgirl

If you’re anything like me, you are doing your best to keep your head above water in the deluge of 2020. Thankfully there’s an end in sight, forty-four days to be exact, and we can all wish for some much-needed grace come 2021. In the meantime, we can carve out peaceful interludes for ourselves.

"...it’s been exciting and inspiring to see so many women-owned businesses collaborating in the Bayview.  New businesses add flare, and having more businesses open to patronize, brings in more foot traffic in the area.” April Spears, Cafe Envy.

Have you ever had something surprise you with a completely different narrative than what you’d expected?  

I’ve got an Urban Farmgirls story for you which involves a backyard in Potrero Hill, the movement of the sun, a blossoming agave, fish in a pond, and a woman well versed in art history.

Helicopters buzz over San Francisco tonight while the sky turns red and the greens turn blue in the Potrero Hill Community Garden. The garden is just over three miles from...

“Here it is,” Jenny said, “shortbread with only five ingredients!” 

Perfect, we had the butter in the fridge and the flour, salt, and sugar in the cupboard to the left. The fifth ingredient, fresh rosemary, was growing on a bush in the garden!

Like everything else, Mother’s Day is going to be different this year. No going out for leisurely brunches or meandering in and out of sweet little shops and cozy neighborhood nooks. But as the saying goes, if the water is too shallow, find different place to swim.

Feeling a little boxed in? Me too!

Nearly a month into our Shelter-in-place order, I’m feeling a little restless after spending so much time indoors. I’m lucky enough to see the sun rise over the Bay most days, propped up in bed sipping a hot cup of tea. 

When there’s fog, it’s often just as stunning -thick layers of white, pale gray and blue, melding together water, land and sky. I’m always amazed at how different it looks every single morning. And yes, I will admit to watching cargo ships and birds through an old pair of binoculars, hoping the neighbors don’t glance up and think I’m spying on them.

The other day on a whim, I stepped way from my laptop to rummage around my apartment for any soon-to-be planter I could drum up.