I’ve been asking about what people feel when they do different things to try to figure out why. Why do some people want to crawl into history (my niece, her uncle) or need to touch the Earth, Cringe at the Earth, need to fill their lives with Animals, or won’t. Have to run, or won’t. I guess it might be the same thing for writing, or painting, or whathaveyou, but I’ve found that those kinds of hobbies seem more intense, less relaxing. I can’t zone out if I’m working on a model or painting.
I had 60 kids come through my greenhouses today. I can usually get about 2 % that are really interested in plants. Already talking about having a greenhouse, or lots of plants in their homes when they grow up. I mainly get city kids so they don’t always have the opportunity to work with plants or parents that spend much time with them, much less in a garden. I think they’re hard wired.
I know I was. My mom is certain I was a changeling. I was born in NY, to parents who think food comes aseptically wrapped at the store. Pork does not equal pig, beef is not cow. And I have no clue what they think of chicken. Eggs sure don’t come from the rear end of a hen.
Oh, and dog people and plant people are not necessarily inclusive. Some of my friends think plants are pretty, but they gravel their yards to keep their dogs coats clean. Or heaven forbid having a cat or dog around that might eat their plants.
Has to be innate, genetic, but I guess I’ll leave behavioral genetics to students like Tiff who was my dog nanny, house helper, and greenhouse waterer.
If it isn’t science that only leaves magic.