There's something strangely lyrical about wanting to be a microgreens farmer, but only on Wednesdays. It's a wish that feels as ephemeral as a summer wind but tethered to something more, something tangible. Perhaps that's why Micro Green Emma sings it passionately, turning an offbeat concept into unexpectedly profound material.
In a world where everyone expects you to know exactly which box to enter, Emma won't. They said she wasn't real because growing microgreens wasn't music. But who says a song can't be about hands stained with dirt and trays of wee greens? Who says a melody can't encapsulate the absurd, the whimsical, and the oddball insight? There's a reason most of us run out of reasons why we have to go to work three times a week instead of one, and we need to take a break from the grind, if just for one day a week.
"I wish I was a Microgreens Farmer but only on Wednesdays" invites you into a realm where imagination meets reality, where a person can grow music like they can grow microgreens. Maybe it's about freedom. Maybe it's about identity. Or perhaps it's simply the pleasure of seeing something unfold, whether a seed in the ground or an idea in a song.
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