Yesterday, I wrote about the chickweed on my window sill and how I perceive it as green because I have a concept of green.
Talking about chickweed…
By the end of last year, I have planted it to have some at home whenever I feel like it. It didn’t do anything. It didn’t grow, and it didn’t die. Until about three weeks ago. All it needed was some sun, and now it is growing like crazy. Well, almost like crazy. It is growing.
I fell in love with chickweed last summer when I did an experiment where I only ate what I could find growing for a month. Chickweed was my stable. It is not only super tasty but apparently also contains many minerals, vitamins, and all the stuff people talk about as being good for your body.
In “Feasting Wild” by Gina Rae La Cerva, she says that “for 99 percent of our history, humans ate hunted and gathered foods. Hunters patterned their lives after the lives of the animals they pursued. Gathering tied us to places and seasons”. To me, foraging all my food was a way to tie myself to Berlin. The result: not so sure anymore how much I want to build ties by removing garbage and dog poop from my food.