Jempson’s is a local supermarket group in East Sussex, committed to sourcing food locally when they can. Compare their five reasons to shop locally to the Goods Shed’s ten that we saw the other day; which is more considered, which is more convincing?
Jempson’s seem to know and value their suppliers. This post card, free by the checkout, spreads the word, and others celebrate some of their farmers and producers, as you can see below. Hard-working, innovative workers, local heroes indeed!
Waters above! eternal springs!
The dew that silvers the Dove's wings!
O welcome, welcome to the sad!
Give dry dust drink; drink that makes glad!
Many fair ev'nings, many flow'rs
Sweeten'd with rich and gentle showers,
Have I enjoy'd, and down have run
Many a fine and shining sun;
But never, till this happy hour,
Was blest with such an evening-shower!
From "Poems of Henry Vaughan, Silurist, Volume II.
This was not an April shower, but a March one; a morning but not an evening shower yet I'm sure Henry Vaughan would have appreciated it, as I did, seeing the raindrops on the willows shining on the osiers. Laudato Si'!
This leaflet from the Goods Shed Market in Canterbury makes some good points but falls down from trying too hard to assemble ten reasons to buy and eat local food, something I am in favour of.
Local food may well be held in cold storage for months. I once looked after an apple store, a cool shed that thanks to the shade of evergreens did not see the sun, and people have always used cellars, pantries and unheated outhouses. Cold storage can be an essential part of seasonal eating, storing apples like St Edmund’s Russets or Bramleys but eating Discovery or Grenadier at the beginning of the harvest season.
You don’t always know who produces your food if you buy locally, you have to trust your retailer. On the other hand, an allotment puts you in control of your vegetables from seed to plate. But not that many of us have time, health or opportunity to grow more than a little of our own food.
I could argue a few more points, but I’ll conclude with the old advice that the Goods Shed scribe would surely endorse: CAVEAT EMPTOR: buyer beware!
When Mrs T had decided the old lilac tree had to go, it went to keep us warm, thanks to the woodburner. In to replace it came a crab apple called John Downie. A welcome addition to the garden and much friendlier to its neighbours than the lilac, which hogged all the surface water and the light. Maybe we can, at last, grow hellebores here. Whether or not that happens, this is John Downie’s Spring moment!
Come the Autumn and those little branches will be full of deep red apples which make a well-coloured jelly.
Maggie Scott recently wrote about her work bringing children face-to-face with nature. I remember the joy of growing up, and of being alive in streams and forests, with or without parents; not to mention the joy of sharing nature with my own children, and now grandchildren, but not all then or now are so blessed, growing up in big cities.
Here’s an extract from Maggie Scott’s short article, which you will find here.
Working as an educator at a New York wildlife refuge, I had the pleasure of educating children about the environment, especially regarding the plants and animals native to my home state. During my work, I encountered many children with little to no prior exposure to undisturbed nature, since they lived in cities without much accessible green space. They had never been exposed to the species that I recognized from my own childhood growing up on Long Island.
Slowly yet all at once, I realised the gravity of what I was witnessing.
The solemnity of today will be overwhelmed by the joy of Easter, but there were tokens of the coming feast for those with eyes to see.
Before the sun was properly up I was looking into the back garden. What was that hunched figure inspecting the flowerpots? A hedgehog woken from hibernation and going about its business, ridding us of a few pests. That was enough to mark the day.
After the L’Arche Good Friday service some of us found our way to the Glebe garden, where a shrine had been built of willow wands. If this was intended to be a place of quiet reflection it became a meeting place for people who had barely seen each other during covid; another hint of the resurrection to come.
Flitting across the garden was a brimstone butterfly, a caterpillar died but transformed into a creature of beauty no less wondrous for being totally expected.
Then to my task of adorning the church porch. The Easter garden needed the finishing touches, Mary’s jar of ointment and the grave cloths hidden behind the door (a scallop shell to be rolled to one side). What concerned me was the Easter lilies. We had some in flower the last two years, but it had been touch and go this time. Since today was warm, the first flowers were unfurling to be bright and white on Easter Day.
In the evening down to the Cathedral to hear Faure’s Requiem, with its upbeat finish: May the Angels welcome you to Paradise, the martyrs meet you and lead you to the Holy City of Jerusalem.
Walking home from the Cathedral in the glowing dusk, under the Easter full moon, three blackbirds, singing their hearts out, serenading the new life hatched in their nests. They will be busy tomorrow, as no doubt will I, but by these tokens and by other sure evidence I know that my redeemer liveth.
I met my neighbour as we were leaving our respective homes this morning, he to climb into his car, I to walk into town to water the garden. ‘Morning Bob!’ ‘Morning Will, isn’t this lovely? And about time too!’
I must say that I spend more time out of doors than Bob does, almost whatever the weather, and indeed it was lovely this morning. But that ‘about time too’ hit me between the ears; I felt rather confused. Maybe I was a bit too sensitive to the unspoken criticism of the creator, or of nature if you will, for not providing Bob’s expected ration of sunshine over the last few days.
Probably as well that Bob was in his car before I’d sorted these thoughts into words. At least I can share them with you, dear reader! And I trust Bob is enjoying Spring in his own way. And you as well, if you are in the Northern Hemisphere.
Happy Easter!
(And I walked past this magnolia on my way to the garden.)
Will Turnstone 