Down in the Dirt, Up on the Roof, and Reaching Out

And so I was filthy and freezing.  Caked with mud.  Dripping with rain.  And happier than I had been in months.  I was invited to start an informal urban farm incubator on a piece of private property.  No rules, except organic growing practices.  No committees.  No limits.  No debates.  Just a patch of land, a stretch of sky, and my imagination and that of others who join me in this initiative, the goal of which is to take our local growing knowledge to the next level, specifically in relation to some particular challenges of available land in our city (deer and long-term drought come to mind). (And, by the way, I've been asked when on earth I do this stuff as I work full-time as a writer and catalyst for change, and I have a family--it takes just an hour or so a day, so I consider it my daily workout, the way someone else might go the gym or jog. You'd be surprised what you can do with a targeted hour a day, especially if you don't waste it sitting in meetings.  Also, my avocation and vocation overlap so much that often I am researching stories while I am "digging in.")

My friend Lisa offered this opportunity, after seeing how successful her "sharing garden" on her front lawn has become.  She is a yoga and meditation teacher and frankly, being around her calming essence is pretty much just what the doctor ordered.  And who do you think showed up to join me, in the rain, in the cold, in the mud?!  Yes!  Rebecca Barria!  And so, here we go again.

The rest of the week found me among some of my favorite people, doing my favorite things as well. The middle school kids came to the community garden twice this week (see nice article about that project here)--once to harvest for the food pantry, and once to fertilize and transplant.  My friend, Farmer Sue, came that second day, and you should have seen the kids' faces when they saw the goals on the blackboard included, "Hold a chicken.  Pet a lamb."  You should have seen my face when Farmer Sue came back to my house for lunch and that chicken and lamb were hanging out in my backyard garden!  Will there ever come a day when that is "allowed" permanently? (Here is Farmer Sue's Art Barn at Morning Glory Farm website.)

I found myself back at the Southface Eco-Office this week, this time to introduce my friend Judy Knight (whom, by the way, I met years ago in Lisa's meditation class at a nearby nature center, and who is the one who started an extremely successful CSA farm box drop near me) and her coworker Juliette to Better World Books' Steve Ward.  Here is Judy and Steve talking on the Southface Eco-Office green roof (here is my video from when this building opened a couple of years ago).  

I followed this meeting by a stop at Farmer D's adorable retail store. which led to us knee-deep in talk for an hour or so, about something so cool on which D is working (about which I am busting to tell you, but can't yet). (See my video of Farmer D from three years ago.)

Speaking of Farmer D, however, he came and did an unbelievably informative Walk-n-Talk around our community garden yesterday morning (he had agreed to do this, and I simply invited anyone who wanted to come).  The crowd included almost our entire board of directors, some of our founding members, other members, my friend Richard of the Worms (whose worm bin is now at the community garden), Judy from Southface, and the two newest leaders of our city, who were just elected in two heated run-offs this past Tuesday.  The new mayor, Mike Davis, is brand new to organic growing and has a new bed at the garden.  He will be planting a cover crop of clover in preparation for his chili-contest-winning intention of growing tomatoes and peppers there.  New council member Terry Nall sponsored a bed about six weeks ago and donated it to the Team Peachtree middle school kids for their use.  They harvested and donated the wheelbarrow-full of food in the upper right-hand-corner of that collage from that new bed this week, and it continues to grow robustly.

And so, things are changing, but some things remain the same.  I continue to dig in.  Hope, as always, springs eternal.  And seeds that are planted always seem to grow.

Down in the Dirt, Up on the Roof, and Reaching Out