Curiosity Roving : V.17 : Salt and Sweat
Curiosity Roving
The Grand Adventures of L Rose Goossen
V.17 : Salt and Sweat
in which life has changed
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Greetings and Salutations!
And welcome to the seventeenth volume of Curiosity Roving. I thank you kindly for your attention.
My last letter reached you in late August, and ended with a premonition that September would find me in a return to form. It has; it does. However, it is not quite the form that I had forecasted. Such folly is always due to those who would count their chickens before they hatch.
My last letter reached you in late August, and ended with a premonition that September would find me in a return to form. It has; it does. However, it is not quite the form that I had forecasted. Such folly is always due to those who would count their chickens before they hatch.
on the rocksI'm writing to you today from Salt Spring Island, British Columbia. I have come here at the invitation of an old friend, and I have taken a job. I am now working as a harvest labourer at GoodBuds, a family-owned organic cannabis company.
Salt Spring Island is located in the Strait of Georgia between the west coast of the mainland and Vancouver Island. My information about the place has been absorbed from my coworkers and the various drivers who lift me down the winding roads in pursuit of a supply run or a swim. The popular lore of the island is thick with references to ancient Lemuria, crystal bedrock, indigenous rituals, the Dalai Lama, and other assorted arcana. It is a strange, magnetic kind of place and I like it very much.
my street
The island was settled by the well-to-do English and Irish in the late nineteenth century, and the aesthetic of the 'gentleman farmer' persists to this day. When appraising the value of a property, the age of the fruit trees is a serious consideration. I eavesdropped on some six-year-olds at the beach one day, and they were already well-versed in property subdivision. Many people choose to retire on Salt Spring. It is somewhat unusual to come here for work, but that is what I have done.
proprietyMy work life is simple and pretty. I see the sunrise every morning. I spend most of my time in a nine-acre field of marijuana, looking at flowers, leaves, ladybugs, and teeny tiny little green tree frogs. My work is physical. I lift things and put them down. I am quick on my feet and deft with my hands. I drive the Gator, which is a darling little jeep-type vehicle that resembles the punk-rock offspring of an ATV, a John Deere classic, and a dump truck. I operate machines and handle sharp objects. I dress for damp in the morning and steam in the afternoon. I snip, chop, buck, weed, sort, defoliate, and trim. I have thirty minutes to feed myself every day at 11:30 AM, and for those thirty minutes, I am more animal than human. It's a good life.
my workplaceHarvest is a season of intensity. There is a lot of work to be done, but the plants are so very sensitive and so very numerous, no one can say exactly when or how or by whom it will all be accomplished. We show up, we take instructions one by one, and we all hope for the best. I expect that the fever will continue for another month, maybe two.
weed it and reapIt's been a long time since I worked in this way. A photographer came by the property last week, and a few of my coworkers didn't want to have their photos taken, because marijuana is still a fringe industry and one's involvement in it could be frowned upon by the mainstream. I was quite ready for my close-up, because the last time I participated in such legitimate (read: taxable) employment was April of 2009.
variation on a themeI had a nice conversation with a coworker about how, for fringe people like us, 'the new normal' has actually inspired a shift toward greater stability and greater capitulation to the status quo; that is, a shift toward what some would identify as 'normality'.
I work a minimum of forty hours per week, often more. My status can generally be summarized as 'tired' or 'busy'. I don't hate it. I will continue.
So, while I'm not willing to entirely dismantle my shimmering and ramshackle temple to the written word, and while I will never abandon my own personal paradigm that supports a life devoted to adventure, it is now clear that Curiosity Roving is not currently the Thing I Am Doing In Life. I don't have the capacity to support this project while working full-time. Therefore, I am releasing myself from the monthly deadlines that I have diligently met for the last year and a half. It makes me absolutely insane to pause this saga on such a cumbersome and anticipatory number as seventeen, but I soothe myself with the adjective 'prime'.
leap of whimsyYou'll probably hear from me later, whenever the magic carpet and the muses swoop back around to my cheeky hitchhiker's thumb, as I'm sure they will, eventually. It could be two months. It could be two years. Please don't unsubscribe; I'll be sad. I'll miss you. I'll miss the version of me that collects facts and anecdotes and shiny things to share with you.
oh CanadaHave you enjoyed my performance? Think of me as a busker, laying out her hat. I am accepting tips through PayPal; not because I need the money, but because I am confident that my work has value.
If Curiosity Roving has made you think, made you giggle, made you blush, made you look, made you wait, made you pause, made you question, made you consult the dictionary, or made you feel something; if it's sent you down a rabbit hole or on a wild goose chase; if it's delivered a reliable dose of the shining, shimmering, splendid, then I hope you'll consider tossing your spare change over to gooseroses@gmail.com.
hat lifeMy PayPal money generally gets recirculated into the arts. Whatever you pass along to me will go toward buying music, supporting fundraisers, and donating to artists like me. I am becoming a DJ these days; I buy songs. I buy albums. I buy the many things of beauty that my friends produce.
filthy farmgirlReader, I still don't know much about life, but I'm pretty sure it's important to know how to let a good thing go. Curiosity Roving is dead; long live Curiosity Roving. I am so grateful to every one of you who made the effort to read every one of the seventeen thousand words that I generated over the course of this odyssey. It's been my absolute pleasure to show you the world. Thanks for the ride. I loved every minute of it.
Until next time, stay curious. -- Rose
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