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  • Mom always told me that most women like to forage. "We are the gatherers," she'd say handing me a carton to collect currants or black raspberries. Berry gathering is eccentric when compared to shopping, our contemporary replacement. When I collect dandelion, sorrel, chive and collards for a salad I feel myself returning to the animal kingdom where I belong. I have the desires of a snail. Riding in cars interferes with this desire. I can't sense the size of the Earth in relation to my body as I move. Dangerous things happen when we exceed our thoughts or our footsteps. Stress, weakness and insecurities. Nothing is wrong with patience, that traditionally "female" trait. Gatherers must be patient. They wait for the wasp to pass. Their endurance of will is driven by their politics: to bring back the most lush for the clan. And many things are just left wild.
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