28 Oct November at Experienced Goods Thrift Shop

by Jennie Reichman

Sage advice from a sign for sale at the Shop

Some things are counterintuitive. “Why am I doing this?” you think as you move away from home to a new location, leave a relationship that is serviceable but unfulfilling, invest in more education, choose a new career. Like jumping into a deep pool of water, we close our eyes, plug our noses and step into the void, the proverbial leap of faith. Some actions and decisions require believing that there will be a positive outcome at the other end, like the cold, blustery day in October when I planted my garlic.

My garden had been on the decline for weeks: zucchini withered, basil black from frost, a few determined green cherry tomatoes dangling from shriveled stalks. By the second week in October I had pulled up everything but the hardy herbs and the kale, creating a sizeable block of empty soil in the middle of the plot. A good portion of that area would be devoted to garlic, the most counterintuitive crop I know of.

I order my seed garlic every year from a wonderful company in Maine, and it always yields heads that are fat, juicy and delicious. Any of you who have been reading these articles for a while know that I love to cook, and that I am genetically incapable of cooking without garlic. So the 50 or so heads of garlic I harvest every year in August tend to last me through February if I am lucky. I do a little happy dance when it is all hung up to cure on my porch after harvesting, soon to be piled into a big basket on my kitchen counter within easy reach.

So as the temperatures hovered in the 40s and the wind whipped fallen leaves into mini tornados, I raked the straw mulch from my garden and started in with the hoe, digging furrows for planting. It seemed crazy while I was doing it, planting in cold October dirt, but I believe that the little cloves I stuck pointy end up in the soil will sleep all winter in the frozen ground, weirdly insulated by several feet of snow, and will send green sprouts toward the sunlight in May. As I dug holes and planted and occasionally stopped to blow on my fingers to warm them up, I thought about how much of life these days involves that same kind of hopeful yet tenuous faith. The current socio-political situation, climate change and how to limit further damage to the planet, opening our minds and hearts to understanding systemic racism. And of course, reinventing our lives and habits in the midst of a global health pandemic.

When we reopened Experienced Goods in early July after 4 months of lockdown due to COVID-19, we had no idea what to expect. We knew what had brought shoppers into the store and donors to our doors before, but we had made some significant changes to the way we did business and to the physical space of the store itself. Would people adjust? Would they be angry? Disappointed? Excited? All we could do was unlock the doors and find out, and as you know, we were greeted with abundant joy that we were open again and an incredible willingness on the part of customers and donors to comply with the new pandemic-dictated procedures.

Along the way, as is almost always the case with forays into the unknown, we are learning a lot about ourselves as a business and as a team of coworkers. There have been unexpected insights and a couple of bumpy patches, a sense of pulling together and working like a well-oiled machine, smoothly changing what doesn’t work and feeling proud of what does. Some of us have discovered talents and strengths we didn’t know we had, like Joan and her fabulous mannequin outfits and display window creations. We are all embracing and owning our leadership abilities in our particular departments. In short, we planted the garlic in the cold ground of pandemic lockdown and so far it is looking green and healthy as it comes up and flourishes.

I raked mulch and leaves over the freshly planted rows, a little worried for the tender seeds that would have to endure a Vermont winter. “Have a good sleep, garlic!” I told them, knowing that, like us humans, it has resilience and potential at its core.