2014-07-05I just finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes. What an experienceFirst, I picked up the greasy spatula and put it into my black granite composite sink (which was made-in-some-far-away-place), then I turned on the shiny “brushed nickel” faucet (also made-in-some-far-away-place), and hot water arrived through a white pvc pipe (yes, made-in-some-far-away-place) from my basement water heater (MISFAP).
Then, I washed the ceramic coated frying pan (MISFAP), with a plastic sponge (MISFAP). The clear plastic detergent bottle (MISFAP) bore a label with the names of two plants, the palm and the olive. The green liquid inside (MISFAP) bore no resemblance to either
Then, I tossed a piece of plastic wrap (MISFAP) into the trash. This little scrap was of such a gossamer consistency that it weighed practically nothing, yet was as clear as glass and both strong and stretchy. I can’t imagine the crazy advanced technology used to produce what I so casually discarded.
When I opened the refrigerator (MISFAP), a light came on and cold air greeted me, way colder than the air I was standing in. Behind the door, small machines and computer chips were toiling away. An array of cold white objects and devices (all MISFAP) promised to maintain the chill.
After setting the butter dish back on a shelf, I wondered about the cow that produced the butter. Did she have a personality? Did she have a story? Did she get to live outside under the sun? I hoped she did.
I stepped across the kitchen floor and felt the cool tiles under my feet. I wondered about the mountain in India where the granite came from, how it had been formed over eons, deep underground, then sliced into perfect squares for me to walk on.
My kitchen contains substances that are so altered from their original form as to be completely unrecognizable.
All came from far, far away and were produced by the labor of countless anonymous bodies and minds in fabulous and unknowable ways.
But there was one element of the morning that was different.
Every morning when the weather is warm, I collect dandelion leaves from the yard. Dandelions grow all over but the best ones are in a little patch right outside the back door.
I have a sense that each plant s a little creature, aware of the sun, the other plants that crowd around, the nibbling rabbits, and of me as well. I try to nip off only a few leaves from each plant.
Inside, I chop them up and add them to the frying pan.
Then while the morning sun shines on the (MISFAP) kitchen, I enjoy this small representative from my own back yard.
It’s an amazing experienceNow, if I could only find some coffee beans out there.
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