The only way to get over impostor syndrome is to get out there and do the thing. So yesterday I rolled out of bed, put on my sweats and sneakers, jumped up and down a bit, and made my way to Home Depot. My goal for the day: De-Dust Bowl my two 6×2 raised garden planters. Even though gardening isn’t farming, it counts because its all earthwork and gets you out of the building, which in this case is my tiny little head. So I grabbed a flatbed cart and started flopping bags of soil, peat moss, and steer manure onto it. Yes, 5-foot me on Day 1 of her period. I love doing stuff like that. It reminds me how strong I am. I’d like to see a man do any of this with blood coming out of one of his holes. Gah ahead. Be nice, Swati.

I thought of when I first started my period. I was 16. A late bloomer, like that corpse flower thing at the arboretum people wait ten years for to burst open. Lateness! A boon from the gods. I had been dreading the moment for years because I thought it meant that I couldn’t roll around with my pops as much anymore. The period is a mythic thing in our culture. I actually confessed this fear to my dad the second time it came around and he told me to stop worrying and get out there. He never treated me any different. I had a South Indian roommate in college and she told me awful stories about how impure she was made to feel on her period. My childhood wasn’t entirely void of that stigma. We were discouraged to participate in certain religious activities — touching the altar, praying for the first four days, things like that. I kind of embraced it as a vacation from stuff I found it hard to keep up with anyway. Ironically, I thought of it as being a boy for a few days — free, without the weight of responsibility of my prayers holding the family up.

It’s so easy to think about all of this now, to tweeze off the thin, delicate skins of misogyny. But once, when it was all still new to me, I remember panicking because I watered the Tulsi plant while on my period. Tulsi is a holy plant and a deity in Hinduism, present at every doorway and verandah. I ran to my mom and told her what I did, asked her if it was okay. She hugged me and said it was a good thing. That it’s good to handle plants and be in nature during that time. She encouraged me. So I thought of that and other sweet, complicated memories as I scooped dirt in and out of my planters, added thick wet wood chips, moss, and manure, and created that fertile environment us women are uniquely good at creating. I am a natural. I belong.

Week 2 of class starts tonight. Last week we concluded on safety and watched some videos. Not my favorite safety video of all time, but almost. Patrick told us about the time he pulled down some overhead hammer thing and it hit him on the head and blood streamed down his face and he got all woozy. No hammers, check. Did you know compressed air can form a bubble under your skin that could travel to your brain and kill you? Check, check. There will be bats and there will be snakes. CHECK. I loooooooove bats. And snakes!? Where do I sign the adoption papers.

I’m not actually worried about any of this. I’ve worked in kitchens, factories, and schools my whole life. You know what’s scary? A mass shooting or drive-by. Thankfully the former has never happened during my time in education so far (and hopefully will never happen anywhere ever again, although that’s wishful thinking). I did get snaggled up in an attempted drive-by last year though in the upper parking lot, along with twenty other adults who smelled trouble. We all migrated up there like mother gazelles toward a suss Chevy Cruze and the driver took off, locked and loaded apparently, waiting for one of our kids. A kid I spent Thursday afternoon with at a regional building competition where he received an award.

I hope yall don’t mind my tangents. I’m trying to make writing this as frictionless as possible in order to center the actual thing, which is going to class, connecting with people on and about the land, and getting my hands dirty. This is just how my birdbrain works based on how my life is set up. How I write is how I sound IRL and I want to keep it that way, not only to continue to build confidence in my true voice, but because I want people whose lives are also “everyday chaotic” to feel like doing this sort of thing is possible.

On Wednesday I got to know some people in my cohort as a result of me sharing this storytelling project, and my desire to do audio interviews with people in the program. I’m glad I waited until the second class to share this and didn’t walk in with my recording gear like a dork on Day 1. It was perfect. Several people expressed an interest.

Paul, a man currently giving away golden doodles. Xia, a graduate from last year who stopped me on my way out to introduce me to a few people from last year’s cohort, including a 91-year-old Black gentleman named Mr. Donald who I need to sit down with ASAP. What I really want to do is hug him. He looked so sweet in his fleece vest, flipping through a gardening magazine, his thin legs gracefully crossed. I noticed his worn leather work shoes and wondered how much time he had put in on the land, when, and where. How long has he lived in Norco, this place its easy to have preconceived notions about when it comes to race and politics? I can already feel this vibrant community untying some of those knots. You think you know a place. Xia told me about an Indian woman out in Jurupa — an engineer turned composting queen — and several other women of color involved with EAT! All stories and themes I want to dig into.

Are we starting a podcast? I think we’re starting a podcast.

Thanks to everyone who wrote in last week to encourage me and offer help as I get started. Special shoutout to my buddy Bruce L. for volunteering to be my stylist on the farm! We have some shopping to do, folks. So far I’ve bought a pair of Blundstones and a couple of petite women’s overalls on sale at Patagonia. I’ll probably end up buying a pair of Flatlanders from Vermont Glove because I’ve always wanted some, but for now my jumbo pack of rubber dot gloves from Amazon will do. I paid my tax bill last week (☠️) and I’m going to Ebenezer it for a month or so. Money just be flying out of my pocket lately.

I’m sending this out a bit early to reset for Week 2. I’m trying to find the right schedule. It feels natural to get something out by Sunday night/Monday morning to match the rhythm of the program. This week we’re going over food safety and getting out to the EAT! farm in Norco. Looking forward to that. See you in a few days!

Updates:

• I’ve been populating this running Google Doc of Reading Recs linked on the newsletter home page. Just titles and my nothingburger notes. I’ll also add resource links shared by the program. Feel free to email me any suggestions at hello@swatiwrites.com.

• In addition to a podcast, does Field & Story need its own roasted coffee line? It might, it might. We have the roaster for it… ☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️