I think it’s of all times, children wanting changes. Changes for a better a world. I was no exception to this rule. Especially at a very early age you could find me on every barricade. I founded nature societies and invited friends to join. One society for such, another for so. I also was into contemporary topics like, global waste, acid rain and of course fighting against nuclear arms and energy.
My mother at that time was some kind of macrobiotic witch, constantly brewing. We were almost self-sufficient. Grew our own crops. The meat came from our neighbour. Once every year we would buy a quarter pig and half a calve, intestines and all, and crammed it into our freezer. Chickens were held for egg production. Chickens who no longer fulfilled their duty were butchered with a blunt ax. Later my mother would hang them from the clotheslines in the backyard. This benefited the tenderness of the flesh I was told. We even “rescued” 6 weeks old chicks, ready for the slaughter, and held them for another consecutive six weeks before finishing them off. Size of a turkey they were when they were finally brought to the alter.
Baking bread from ancient cereal types was something she never got the hang off. Hard as brick they were. If snails had eaten all the lettuce from the garden we were forced to eat like rabbits. Dandelion or nettle stew on the menu. Even the flowers were edible. I often asked my mother why she not served bulbs the moment she was lecturing me with you-don’t-know-hunger-you-never-experienced-war stories.
The last paragraph was among the reasons why I strayed form the green path. But actually I cannot blame my parents. I have to blame puberty. The green spirit altogether left me the moment I found out about the other spirit. I invented beer, a most exciting grog and the ultimate time spender. The change from waste to wasted was easy, I only had to add one bit of character.
Attached painting
Change Has Come
acryl on canvas
91 cm x 121 cm
Comments