Well, I jinxed myself by boasting about how stellar my health in a previous column because I found myself in local emergency room not once but twice. While tests remain to be done all fingers so far point to one
Well, I jinxed myself by boasting about how stellar my health in a previous column because I found myself in local emergency room not once but twice.
While tests remain to be done all fingers so far point to one rotten gall bladder and a potential ulcer. It only took two ER doctors, my family physician and a specialist to come to this determination.
It almost sounds like a bad joke, two ER doctors, a family physician and a specialist walked into the patient’s room….
Anyway, I am now living on the much-dreaded BRAT diet — bananas, rice, applesauce and toast, oh my — and have had plenty of time to catch up on my nightmarish Algebra homework. Not to say everything I’ve been reading is dry as I stole some time into several Stephen King books and finally caught up on reading the newspaper that I work for. The latter of which brings me to the point of today’s column (finally, right?) as what did I see on the front page but a story on a local woman farmer.
What I soon discovered as I read and researched is that an entire network of women farmers reside in the county and have come together to offer a plethora of workshops for the endeavoring lady of the field. They have everything from classes on potting and transplanting, to weeding, seeding and harvesting, to raising fowl and even aquaculture.
What rock have I been under all these years to have missed a treasure-trove of farmers and homesteaders right in my own backyard?
I was so excited I sent an email as quickly as possible to the organization. An email that contained far more exclamation points than what I would consider professional and misspellings that would later make me cringe.
That’s okay. I think I’ve a legitimate excuse to being so excited as to paint an email with exclamation marks and misspellings. You could just about compare this local farmer news to my eight and ten year old being told they are going to Disney World.
Okay, almost liken to a Disney World announcement. I’ve no doubt my daughters would be less than enthused with attending classes on how to distinguish weeds from food and how to extend the growing season in their garden.
Plus, one always has to look at the bright side; at least all those exclamations were far less offensive than sending an email in all capital letters or screaming over the phone to one of the facilitators of the farming program to showcase my enthusiasm. And since she replied so kindly to my email it could not have been too bad.
So it certainly pays to do a little networking and certainly a lot of reading to find individuals with similar interests and goals.
Now if they just offer a class on how to grow your own gall bladder I’ll be completely stoked.
• Bethany J. Royer is a reporter for the Piqua Daily Call and wanna-be urban homesteader. She can be reached at bethanyroyer@yahoo.com or visit her at www.bethanyjroyer.com.
