New Year, New Willow-portunities
[Do you do that? Do you make words into opportunities by using “-portunity” as a suffix? Abby and I do that all the time. I think it’s one of the ways we keep work cheerful. Any work described as an opportunity feels less like work and more like a gift. And when that’s done in shorthand with made up language? All the better.
Drill-portunity. Dig-portunity. Mow-portunity. Reorg-portunity. The dumber they sound, the more fun they become. Anyhoo. . . ]
I really want to focus far more on willow this year. I want to pull back from the horse barns and start exploring all that’s possible with willow—certainly weaving with far more regularity, but also just what fun connections I can make through willow and building out the rest of the business.
So far, I have only met delightful, warm, curious people through my work with willow. Truly. I have not met one mean or even vaguely testy person via teaching willow. It’s amazing and wonderful. I much prefer, generally, kind people—though I am pretty fond of kind AND feisty or kind AND opinionated.
But that kindness makes sense to me as I think of willow as a kind and generous plant. Truly. It is so easy to grow, asks for almost nothing in return, and gives so much back to the ecosystem around it and to humans—if we know enough about it to accept its gifts. As the source of salicylic acid, It’s a pain killer. Many of its varieties are perfect for weaving. It grows quickly and can be a source for fuel for humans or for stabilization of wet zones for nature. It processes natural pollutants quickly and efficiently—think animal or human waste. It is edible for foraging ruminants. Its quick growth also makes it an excellent sequesterer of carbon.
And that last one is the number two reason I love willow, almost equal to my interest in weaving. Planting it and multiplying my beds every year, knowing that its fast growth will snatch carbon from the air where it will then stay in the form of baskets, makes me feel accomplished in a way that is difficult to put into words. And if I could gain a platform to reach every farmer or small landowner to encourage them to plant even just a half acre of highly concentrated willow that they would harvest each year or make available for local artisans to harvest each year, I would jump at the chance to speak about it. Such planting on a global scale might help the earth immeasurably.
I’m just saying. . . Finding an art form for which I grow my own medium and that that medium’s growth is beneficial to the planet? I feel pretty good about it.
So this year, clearly I need to find time and means to proselytize about willow. I want to teach weaving and farming and foraging. I want to make and make and make until my hands and hips and back complain. Is it fair to say I need to start making money from willow as well? Five years in and this investment has to start acting like an investment and paying back. That feels a bit greedy to me because willow has paid back in so many ways so far that aren’t fiduciary (finding and knowing Abby as a kindred spirit maybe, ought to be gift enough), but it’s time for money too.
What a strange journey.
Excited to say that I already have 2 classes up on offered for January and February. In private, I’m also starting a neat partnership with our local Harriet Beecher Stowe House and with Gorman Farm. Both will start with a class or a talk, but such good groups both. It’s been an honor to have been found by them and have them be curious about what I’m doing on the farm.
I’m on the cusp of something. I hope it’s good. I hope I don’t squander it or flub it or fall flat on my face. Willow is my life’s calling. Full stop. I’m anxious to share it with everyone else.
