Podcast Summary:

I drink. I tell a story…and I hope that most of it is true. This podcast blends tales (today about Seedlip), fiction, and real-world exploration. Here’s the rundown:

Epic Rippers: Stories that f*&k. Raw, adventure travel stories. These non-fiction audio journals offer life lessons and stirring thoughts.

Sips and Shorts: Stories and interviews about drinks from around the world that have shaped culture and society.

The Library: Dive into “The Coin Chronicles,” an exclusive fantasy audiobook series. Each episode reveals a chapter of this epic saga of Gods, humans, and the coin that rules them.

Episode 42 Notes: Planting Seeds

Agnes worked daily to make sure the farm and her family survived for another day. This was an age of hard times. This was a time of keeping your head down and doing the work. In persisting, she became part of a hard working culture and embodied the concept behind a modern day drink.

Transcript of Podcast:

*Note – This is the full episode and containers spoilers. You can always listen to the podcast above.

History of the Seedlip

Agnes woke before the sun rose and the rooster cock-a-doodle-dood. The crisp air, not yet touched by the warm morning sun, was making her want to stay in bed. The cold seeped into her body and tightened every muscle. She was already sore and this wasn’t helping. Throwing off the covers was always the hardest part and it took her another three minutes to do. She lay there, in a wool nightgown, knowing she had to get up for her family. She had to get up and start her day for her kids. For her husband Thomas. There was work to do and time did not care how tired or cold or sore she was. Time would continue ticking away despite her wish to pause it and slip out of the stream of life for a few minutes to catch a breather. 

When the cold became unbearable, and the desire to move, finally stressed her out enough to do, she sat up, squirmed to the edge of the bed and stood, emitting a long, labored, sigh into the dry air. Her nightgown was over her head then and falling in a heap on the drafty floorboards. She slipped on her thick stockings, the thickest ones she had and then pulled on a heavy dress. 

She went to the window next and squinted to see through the frost, dark pane of glass. A blast of cold air from the drafty window hit her face as she got close and goosebumps ran down her spine and made her shiver. 

She turned back to her bed, which was already empty. Thomas wasn’t there. He was gone, like he always was at this time of day. 

This was a farm and there were always things to do. Sleeping was a luxury not given to those that want to create life where only dead things once exists. The move from dead to living, from nothing to something, required a lot of energy. That was evident in all of their hard work.

Agnes lit a candle and used its soft glow to find her way to the kitchen. Once there she brought the fire embers in the hearth back to life and added more wood. She put a kettle over the fire filled with water then went to the pantry. She grabbed bread then went outside to grab cheese and butter. As far as Agnes was concerned, the only good part about winter was being able to store food outside in the shed so they’d keep longer. 

Then she set the table, cut the bread and let the butter out to soften. The rest of the family would be joining her soon for breakfast. The sun was starting to rise now and their rooster finally greeted them with his morning wake up call. She heard the cows in the barn mooing. The pigs would be awake soon and hungry, so she put on a pair of heavy boots, pulled on a warm coat, and went outside to feed them, dumping dried husks and rotten vegetables into the pen. 

Back inside, the table was full. “Morning.” She said, as she peeled off her coat and shook away the layer of cold. Next she took off her boots, which were covered in a thick layer of mud from the soft ground. Things were no longer frozen. Things were thawing. The family was already helping themselves to food. The water was boiling now too on the roaring fire and she ladled some into a mug, adding some coffee beans. 

“Can we go outside and play today?”

Play. They hadn’t really played outside in a long time. The winter had been harsh. Very harsh. It was a cold winter. A hard winter. 

Then it dawned on Agnes that today would be a good day to play. That also meant it would be a good day to plant. She had been so focused on surviving the winter that warmer weather snuck up on her unannounced, and, as she looked outside now at the early morning hours, she realized it was going to be a clear, beautiful day. 

Ice was already melting, falling in pitter patters to the ground, and glittering as it caught the sunlight. Her eyes went back to the front door and her boots. Her boots that were covered in mud. Mud that had come from the soft ground. 

Planting Seeds With the Seedlip

Agnes’ pulse quickened. Spring. It was here. It was time to plant. After the stalls were mucked and the cows milked she would pull out that old, familiar straw woven basket of hers, fill it with seeds, and start planting. That was the next step. Yes, that was it. The fields had already been tilled. It was possible to do that over the last few weeks and, as if reminding her of that work, she felt the ache between her shoulder blades from gripping the walking plow and fighting to keep it steady as their workhorse trudged along. 

She had to start the planting now. They had a large farm with a lot of acreage and walking it all by foot would take a long time. There was so much to do. She drank her coffee absentmindedly as her mind raced. 

Thomas had kept seed at the end of last season so they were all set to get started this spring. She loved him for his planning and made a point to tell him that now as she thought of it. He smiled the way he always smiled, with love in his eyes.

There were the usual challenges, of course, with planting. Like getting all the seed in the ground right after the last frost and before things got too hot and the ground dried out too much. 

 After getting the kids dressed and ushering them outside, Agnes went to the barn in search of her tools. She found the sacks of seed that Thomas bought. She also found her basket, the basket she made herself with straw. It wasn’t very deep, only a couple inches, and it had a large flat bottom. 

Agnes dumped some seeds into it, pressed it to her hip for easy carrying, and went to the fields. She looked out at the dark, rich dirt. She could smell it. Smell the Earth itself and all the living organisms crawling around down there. Today, was a new day and the Earth smelled new. 

So, she walked. She picked at the seeds, which were easy to grab in the shallow basket, and spread them across the soil. It took her thirty minutes to walk one row, casting seeds to the left. To the right. And in front of her. 

At the end of the field she turned and looked back. Already the birds were gathering. They were circling above and watching her. They were dive bombing in interspersed, missile like attacks at the soil, hitting the dirt, pecking feverishly for seeds. Then scattering. 

Agnes sighed. The never ending battle. Nature trying to undo her work, not by any malicious intention, but just because nature wants to survive. Life wants to survive. And sometimes the survival of some means the death of others. 

Agnes looked in front of her. There were more seeds to plant. She walked. Casting seeds to the left. To the right. And in front of her. At the end of the row, she turned and started a new row. Casting seeds to the left. To the right. And in front of her. 

The ground was uneven from her tilling and some of the soil had clumped up in large, earthy clods that would melt in the rain. But, now they were hazards and she found herself tripped up several times, even once spilling her seeds. This caused a chorus of chirps as the birds excitedly spread the message to one another. 

“Look at this! Look at this!” They chirped. “She fell. She fell…and we’re going to eat well today because of her mistake.”

But, Agnes stood after she fell. Agnes went back to the barn and scooped out more of the seeds that Thomas had bought, putting them into her straw basket, and continuing on. Agnes kept going because Agnes knew that mistakes happen. Not every day goes your way. In fact, a lot of days don’t. The birds will come. The birds will feast. But, even their gluttony and desire for a free meal is no match for hard work. Hard work will persevere. It could be in a season or a decade. Hard work, will persevere.

So, Agnes put her head down and kept planting, making sure to be more careful with how she walked moving forward. Casting seeds to the left. To the right. And in front of her. She liked that her work made Thomas proud. She smiled at him. Her husband. Her love. 

She planted seeds all day and only quit when she couldn’t see the ground anymore. Then, she hung up her basket in the barn, locked the doors, and went inside to make dinner. 

The days repeated like this. She woke in the morning while the world was still dark and went about helping her family survive for another day. Spring was a notorious time for afternoon thunderstorms, and there were many days she worked with haste against the incoming storms. She saw them forming on the horizon, readying themselves like an assembling army, the clouds building and turning black, swirling violently, and preparing to crush her afternoon.

She raced again nature. She fought back against the birds, who were always looking for a free meal. And she got stronger and more sure footed every day, never falling again in the fields, as she planted.    

Casting seeds to the left. To the right. And in front of her. She keeps her head down. She does her work. She moves through the acres and acres of farmland all on her own.

It had been a cold winter. A hard winter. The winds had cut across the dead cropland without anything to stop them and tore into their tiny house, threatening the lives of them and the kids. It was a harsh winter, and the thing about harsh winters is they always take a piece of your soul. In this instance, they took her love. They took her Thomas. They stole his soul and left her all alone to care for two kids and a large farm. And Agnes was doing all she could to survive. 

But, that was in the past and she had little time to think about her loss, although she still talked to Thomas often, since she had no one else to talk to. Spring was here and that meant sunshine and green grass and flowers and honey bees. 

Spring was a time to plant seeds and put in the work to nurture them until they took shape.

There is a season for everything and now is your season to grow. To plant your seeds like Agnes was planting her seeds. To work them into the ground. 

This isn’t a time to harvest. You have nothing to harvest. 

Now, is a time to grow. To plant your seeds of ideas and hard work and progress deep into the fertile soil of life. To keep your head down, despite the rainstorms and cawing birds trying to dive bomb your crop and destroy your hard work. Keep your head down. Plant your seeds now and care for them. Focus on nothing else. You’ll be surprised how big your harvest can get when you focus only on growing and leave the birds to themselves and the thunderstorms to keep raging.

Those things will always be there. But, they don’t know what you are capable of. They don’t know that they can’t stop you. Nothing can stop you. 

So, it’s time for you, just like Agnes did, to pick up your straw basket and plant your seeds. To progress and move forward your own life and the world we live in. 

Keep your head down. Walk your fields and keep planting. Keep drawing from your basket. 

Your basket, like Agnes’ basket. A very famous basket that is steeped in focus and hard work and perseverance and winning, even against long odds. A basket called the Seedlip. 

Seedlip

Which, is also the name of an herbal distilled, non-alcoholic drink called Seedlip. A drink that is a perfect drink when combined with planting and nurturing your own seeds. Many people say new year, new you. But, fuck that. 

That’s not at all true. It’s time to be you. Time to unlock that beautiful being within in you that can be more, do more, and achieve more. And if you’ve been on a journey this dry January, I’m proud of you. Keep going. And let’s cheers to you keeping your fucking head down with some Seedlip.