29 October, 2007 – Fresno, California
But I won’t need it when I reach the end
It was good that we were rested, as we were headed for a storm.
The train rolled from Emeryville toward Fresno, heading first North, then East, then South through the San Joaquin Valley. We got off in Madera (a little early, if you can believe that) and soon enough, there were our next organizers and hosts, True and his father John.
We went to their home, where they showed us to our room, then took us on a tour of their beautiful and extensive vegetable and flower gardens, their walk-in cooler and water tanks, their greenhouses and watering systems. They make their living farming, selling their produce and flowers at the farmer’s market in Fresno, and are following an approach they call Whole Systems Agriculture, with True studying permaculture to add to that. As we toured we munched on carrots and beans and various leaves and marveled at the variety and the healthy glow of these plant allies. It was a sane, inspiring and peaceful space.
After a nap and a shower, we had a great dinner of beans and greens and flatbread. then packed up and headed toward Fresno for the screening, our first-ever outdoor event. Our venue was the Vineyard Farmer’s Market, a huge domed trellis of a space, with vines overhead, and mosaic-covered columns and strings of Xmas lights. True’s brother John was there to help set up, as was his friend and fellow compatriot in Post Carbon Fresno, Darren, who was there with screen and projector and DVD player and speakers to take care of the tech. While Darren put picture and sound in place, the rest of us lined up chairs and got the space ready.
And then the Western sky darkened…
I love thunderstorms. I love to see the sky wide awake and wildly alive, to feel the wind on my face, the electricity in the air. I remember watching storms as a kid, watching as they would bear down on us from miles away, marveling at their power, feeling their power in my body. This was like that. The only problem was, in thirty minutes or so, we were expecting a bunch of people to show up and watch a movie under the open sky.
I walked out to where I could better see the growing mass of dark gray and purple and flashing yellow-white. I thanked the storm for coming and explained what we were doing. And I asked it, not to spare us, or to turn away, but to do what it needed to do, trusting that the Earth knew best what was needed to serve the greater good. Most agreed that this storm, at this time, was both rare and unusual, and many commented on the irony of its appearing on the one day we’d planned an outdoor screening. There’s nothing the gods find quite so amusing, I think, as human beings making plans…
We watched the storm approach. A few early audience members arrived and we spoke with them as the lightning and thunder neared. At some point John hauled out some EZ-Ups and set them up. And as the raindrops began to fall, we grabbed the screen and rolled it back down, hauled speakers and projector and chairs under the shelters, and grabbed hold of the poles to hold them in place against the wind. The wind strengthened and the rain increased and soon we all huddled under the shelters, ten or fifteen of us by then, laughing at our predicament and enjoying the storm.
We decided to