Marigolds Everywhere

'This is a conspiracy!,' the typewriter-printed tag proclaims.  'We are conspiring the cover the city with marigolds.'  That's right- those dusty trash-laden squares of earth that poke through the long avenues of concrete will soon be bursting joyously into oranges and golds.  If it rains, that is.  And if we can recruit enough co-conspirators.

Our new ammunition may help.  I spent Sunday making seed bombs with the founders of the conspiracy - a due I met in India on Mojo Plantation, and an old friend from Philly.  Fueled by home-brewed dandelion wine, we patted out circles of red clay, sprinkled a dash of seed starting mix and then layered on a healthy dose of seeds, finally squeezing the clay shut around the treasure inside.  These brown beauties will be handed out/sold for a pittance this weekend at the Trenton Avenue Arts Festival, and will certainly explode into at least a couple conspiratory buds each.

The idea?  Keep a few of these miniature potatoes with you at all times, so you can be ready to launch them toward the next sad piece of bald city earth.  The next time it rains, you may see a spear of hopeful green shooting through.