i am irish. of this i have always been undeniably sure. however--i don't remember the moment i learned it for the first time. the facts and tales of my ancestors surviving potato famine, and the boat trek to ellis island, and the prejudices in america, and their growing families-- were passed on to me from toddler-hood. and i came to honor and cherish my heritage deeply.
so today- on st.patricks day - i celebrated in a most unconventional way. with my best intentions of baking a delicious loaf of irish soda bread gone by the wayside, i honored my roots by traveling deeper into the city where my family originated. i met a man at a city bike shop. watched as he expertly repaired a bicycle. brushed shoulders with the kids from the neighborhood, as they crammed in the entryway to have their transportation assessed. the man reached up and grabbed a flat off a high shelf. brought it to the counter. brushed his grease stained hands on his apron. and presented me with an amazing array of sunflower sprouts. grown by him & his partner, the sprouts were started at a hoop house in the heart of detroit. they are amazing additions to salads. smoothies. sandwiches. or on their own. their farm feeds a city. and their passion fills a need.
after i had my sprouts tucked away in the back of the durango, i drove around the city a bit. found another urban farm (pictures to come). perused several showcases of city art. stared at the old train station. and as the sun shown, i sighed. i don't know why my family chose to settle in these neighborhoods. and on these streets. but today, st. patricks day, i looked around and was ever so glad they did.
erin go bragh.