Yesterday I printed notecards here in my very house with my very own printer. After experimenting and learning that black and white cards look better printed here than they ever did with the company I was using, I went after it. I’m getting a better product at less cost, AND it makes it possible for me to print custom orders and assortments in small batches. It isn’t so much that the company I was using is expensive — though I think it is — it’s that it was a huge gamble and sometimes a sizable investment to order from them. I still have a lot of cards I will never sell, flowers. I took a shot on them that didn’t pan out.
Color, however — more learning. The card stock I got for this first experience is too heavily textured for nice color printing. My printer is up to it, but I need smoother paper.
As I worked I kept thinking of Erich Fromm’s observation that in medieval times the producer really did know his/her market, how much he/she could expect to sell and for how much. It made me think that we are not all living in the same era whatever the calendar says.
Yesterday I spent some time with my beans, standing in the little arched bower of their crazy tall growth. I told them how great they’ve been all summer in spite of it having been — for their human — a very strange summer. “You are an inspiring example of constancy,” I told them, noticing that on the ground, a young bean seems to have come up. Huh? It’s not impossible, but I hope that’s not the case because there is no way he/she can winter over, though in warmer climes they are perennial plants. For the most part the beans look tired and done. I’ve been harvesting for the past month and have a very large soup bowl filled almost to the brim with dried beans.
Another amazing plant has been a Genovese basil plant I started from the little leaves and stems that come in a small plastic container that they sell at the store. I rooted it, planted it, and it has grown to be the biggest, strongest and most flavorful basil I’ve ever grown. Two nights ago it was supposed to freeze. I went out to bring herin and found she’d sent down a root powerful enough to pierce grow bag and into the ground a good six inches. She is a dauntless and determined basil plant. I realized then that I can’t bring her in. To repot her and protect that root would demand a really big pot, so I took cuttings.
I know that all this is just what plants do and that humans have depended on it for thousands of years, but it still amazes me.