Inch by Inch, Row by Row, and Other Simple Truths

I hooked up the hose and turned it on as my friend David dragged it to water the raised garden beds at the food pantry after families in need finished harvesting.  As I walked around the corner to help him, I saw that a food pantry client had walked over and was holding the hose behind David.  As David worked his way around the garden, the man followed him holding the hose.  They didn't speak until the end, when David thanked him, in both English and Spanish, and the man nodded and returned to his place in line with the others waiting for the food pantry doors to open.  

I sat on a stone wall with my friend James, and watched this simple, silent, beautiful dance of humanity.  And I was humbled to think of the very many simple actions people who had not all that long ago been strangers had taken with me in just these past couple of months to add rows to our gardens.  Rows.  For some reason, rows.  All I can think about are rows--the one at my home garden that I added as my 2012 Plant a Row.  The one right here at the food pantry.  The one at the new urban farm incubator in my friend's backyard.  And the one I just marked out with my friends Robert, Laura, and Jim in the back field at the community garden so both the city and the garden board can visualize it for potential approval, so that the middle school kids have a "row to grow."  

And lyrics from this song (which is one of my favorites of all time) rushed through my head:

Inch by inch, row by row
Gonna make this garden grow
All it takes is a rake and a hoe
And a piece of fertile ground

Inch by inch, row by row
Someone bless these seeds I sow
Someone warm them from below
Till the rain comes tumbling down
 
Pulling weeds and picking stones  
Man is made of dreams and bones
Feel the need to grow my own
Cause the time is close at hand

Grain for grain, sun and rain
Find my way in nature's chain
Tune my body and my brain
To the music from the land

Plant your rows straight and long
Temper them with prayer and song
Mother Earth will make you strong
If you give her love and care

Old crow watching hungrily
From his perch in yonder tree
In my garden it's as free
As that feathered thief up there

I've been singing that song all week, and, although it is often thought of as a children's song, I have never seen it that way. In fact, it moves me to tears, every single time, with its simple truths.  I guess I am realizing that perhaps that's the best we can do in this world, to keep trying to create and cultivate something good.  Inch by inch.  Row by row.  Literally.  Metaphorically.  And we sit on a stone wall one day and we see what has grown.  And then we add to it.  Inch by inch.  Row by row.  With, really, no end in sight, not even the criticism of a crowd, the barriers of bureaucracy, or the limits of a lifetime. 

You can watch Dave Mallett, who wrote the song, perform it here.

And so, my girls will get their copies of the book I wrote for them next week, a book which is on its own little journey now (and about which I was grateful to have the opportunity to mention on Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution site this week).  Presents will be opened, and food will be eaten, and pots will be banged at midnight on New Year's.  And then, once more, I will stand at my back door and look at the January garden, my favorite one of the year.  The dirt. The dreams. The uncertainties of what the new year holds that are both scary and scintillating.  And I will once again take the garden, and life, the only way I know how.  Inch by inch, and row by row.  And I will, as always, trust the journey.

Thank you for joining me on our FoodShed Planet this year, for your support of my book and other initiatives, and for all that you continue to teach me.  I will see you again in 2012.  Until then, I wish you peace in your heart, peace on earth, and a row of your own to grow, however you define that. 

Inch by Inch, Row by Row, and Other Simple Truths

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

How I Will Base My Vote Today

Today is a runoff election in my city, which just turned three years old and until very recently was the newest city in the United States.  I have been giving great thought to what I think are reasonable expectations for citizens from their city leaders in a changing world, and will vote for the people that I think can meet these expectations:

Citizen Expectations for City Leaders in a Changing World

We expect open-mindedness and knowledge about what's happening elsewhere,and how we fit into this larger world.  We expect an articulated vision and observable actions that support increased local resiliency both individually and collectively.  We expect protection of the commons we share: air, water, and land, and an educated awareness of our limited resources. We expect ease of use for health-enhancing transportation options such as walking and biking. We expect adequate, up-to-date public safety and a comprehensive emergency preparedness plan. We expect a road map to energy independence. We expect support for our ability to grow, make, market and access fresh, local food for ourselves, our families, and our community. We expect robust encouragement of a vibrant local business community so that more money is kept circulating in the local economy. We expect consideration for the most vulnerable among us, and to be treated with dignity, no matter what our life stage or circumstance.  We expect to have our voices heard and reflected in decisions made.  We expect transparency in government, and frequent, reliable communications. We expect kindness. 
 (written by Pattie Baker, 12/6/11)

How I Will Base My Vote Today

Less Talk. More Action. And Don't Be Afraid of the Mess.

When my daughters were younger, I had a simple formula for any creative project--if the amount of time it engaged my children was longer than the amount of time it took to clean up, then it was a go.  Period.  It was as simple as that.  Paints were out all the time in my house--butcher paper ready for roving artists was taped all over the walls, and the art easel was always set up (here's a canvas I painted one day in passing, using plants from the garden as brushes).  Glitter glue?  Bring it on.  Rocks and sticks, and seashells from vacation, and dirt from the garden got dragged all over the house.  And I had a sandbox in my kitchen, for goodness sake.  (You know how long it takes to vacuum sand?  Mere seconds.)

Santa Okras!

As I was working on my Santa Okras yesterday (seriously--how cute is this little gang?!), I was reminded of my old "formula" because, at first, I didn't want to drag all the stuff out, although, in reality, it only took a moment to set up and a couple minutes to clean up. The late-afternoon light streamed in the window, and I flung my back door open (I had gotten a much-wanted screen door for my birthday not long ago) and a pleasant breeze blew in. I worked diligently while deep in thought about something that has been troubling me. Something very close to my heart in my life has become more complicated than I think is necessary, and I realized the group was spending more time engaging in conversations about what to do rather than actually doing the things. This presents a conundrum for me--is this a natural "next stage" of an organization, and if so, do I stay and try to keep things simple?  Or do I move on?  How am I most valuable to the people involved and the long-term sustainability of the initiative?  I don't know yet.

This shows what the Better World Books drop box will be like as part of a complete community recycling center

Steve Ward of Better World Books at Wheat Street Gardens

I was down at Rashid's Wheat Street Gardens again this week (Rashid is the first one to add a Better World Books drop box since I've been working with Steve Ward of that company to increase opportunities for people to be involved in the good they do--who else is in?  Email me).  (I love this picture of Steve--here's one from when I first met him).  And I was struck by how much is growing at that urban farm, especially considering that it is just celebrating its first anniversary--something like five tons of food have been produced so far on this previously barren piece of land.  Rashid and Eugene just get things done.  (Here is from when I first met Rashid, and here is from when I first visited Wheat Street Gardens this past January.)  Simple.  Effective.

I attended the Sustainable Atlanta Roundtable meeting (sponsored by Southface) Friday morning for the first time in a year or so, and was struck by how much progress has been made by sustainability leaders in my larger metro-area, and I felt "at home."  (I was even inspired to include mention of it in my "home tips and trends" blog, Hot Off the Vine, for a subsidiary of Cox Enterprises.)  (And I got a kick out of all the bikes parked all over the place--it was like going to a party when I was a teenager!)  These people just get things done.  Simple.  Effective.

The new Plant a Row at St. Pat's

Team Peachtree's bed

I stopped at the community garden and was blown away by how much the middle school kids' raised bed has grown in just a month (they will, in fact, harvest from it this week for the food pantry).  Then, I stopped at the garden at the food pantry itself and honestly can't believe how the new Plant a Row has exceeded my wildest expectations (see the complete series of articles about that initiative linked at the bottom of this blog, or click here).  Simple.  Effective.

And then I met with Nicki Schroeder of High Road Craft Ice Cream again.  She wants to start a garden in her industrial office park to provide ingredients for their small-batch, artisanal flavors (which range from custom chef-blends like grapefruit rosemary sorbet to standards like mint chocolate chip).  (Have you noticed that when people are starting gardens or involved for the first time, they literally explode with joy?  This is about the 6th or 7th time I've gotten a photo like this!)  We selected a location, hatched a plan, and penciled in a date for the build-out (complete with ice cream samples!), once this and that is determined.  Simple. Effective. 

Today, I'm meeting with someone else, for reasons that I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, are meant to be.  And I suspect the amount of time we spend talking about it will be far less than the amount of time we spend actually doing it.  In fact, I'm bringing my pitchfork.  Because I expect it to be simple.  And I want nothing more than to be effective with the non-renewable resource of time with which I have been entrusted today.

I'm thinking a lot about Steve Jobs still, by the way. I'm not done learning from him.  But there is one thing I do believe I've learned for sure already. Less talk.  More action.  And don't be afraid of the mess. 

Less Talk. More Action. And Don't Be Afraid of the Mess.