Monday, May 21, 2018

Walking on the Wild Side

On the suggestion of a friend, I watched a wonderful film on Netflix called Dare to be Wild. Captivated isn’t an understatement for how the film made me feel. 

I grew up in my grandmother’s 2 flat, with a backyard that was entirely concreted in. Fence to fence, save a 3’ wide strip about 20’ long where my mother put a vegetable garden. My grandmother kept hybrid roses along the gravel alley side of the house, and our neighbor’s side yard, which was only the width of a 2’ sidewalk from our house, was planted in Lily of the Valley. It was a delight to my senses each spring when they began to bloom. Up in my bedroom which faced the side yard full of these heaven-scented flowers, I could catch their scent if the wind blew just right. 

My saving grace from the concrete jungle that our town was becoming; camp! 

Many times a year, I got to escape to camp, thanks to Girl Scouts and two enthusiastic parents who co-led our troop with the parents of my best friend all through grade school. 

I loved wandering the woods of St. Charles, IL, in all of the seasons, at that camp. Camp Wildrose it was called. In the very cold weather, we’d hunker down in one of the big cabin-like buildings with a huge fireplace on air mattresses covering the huge open floor space. In the warmer weather, we’d camp out in platform tents on cots covered in mosquito netting – sides rolled up so the breeze would keep the damp, cold air from settling inside overnight. A phenomenon I awed at. But it allowed one to witness the sunrise as it sparkled through the trees' canopy every morning we were there. 

“People travel the world over to visit untouched places of natural beauty yet modern gardens pay little heed to the simplicity and beauty of these environments.  ….those special places we must preserve and protect, each in his own way before they are lost forever.
Mary Reynolds on her application to the Chelsea Flower Show in 2002.

 At least once a year, I got to attend a 2 week camp up in Wisconsin. Home of the giant mosquito. But a little oil of citronella (yes, even back then we used essential oils to combat the pests), and I could hike for hours. I never tired of the woods and the prairies and cried whenever it was time to leave for the city. 

Perhaps this imprint on me as such a young girl is what brought me back to where I am today. In love with the land I am lucky enough to have stumbled upon and purchased over a decade ago. While I bought it for very different reasons than I now use it for today, it didn’t take long for the magic of the place to begin placing its hold on me. 

While watching Dare to be Wild, I couldn’t hide my emotions as Mary, the main character upon whom this docudrama is based, revealed her reason for wanting to submit her wilds-cape garden design into the prestigious competition in England. I knew just how she must have felt about preserving places and protecting them from destruction, and restoring those that had been destroyed. 

Permaculture is much the same philosophy. Working with Nature, what is native, what is low maintenance, and what fills us with a special feeling of being connected.

At one time I used to install small commercial landscape flower beds. Talk about boring. Seasonal color change out is a money maker, for sure, but that’s about it. 

Nature doesn’t grow in a monoculture, she is a watercolor artist with a full pallet with which to paint. The photograph on my cell phone’s screen saver is proof positive of that. Yellow, brown, pink, and all shades within, green, of course, and splashes of white and more, create such a beautiful scene a landscape designer could likely not recreate. 

But I try. Each spring I push the first cutting of the front “lawn” back a little further to encourage more of the wildflowers to go to seed. One of these days, I just may not have to mow all summer. That’s my hope anyway. 

And re-planting trees where surely they once lived is something I do a little of each year. I plant native trees and fruit-trees for our edible forest, too. And I rarely cut down the saplings that pop up around the place. Trees don’t live forever, and something has to be growing to take the place of the majestic Post Oaks, native pear and juniper trees, and even the sprawling mesquite, when their final days come. More oaks are taking root this year than ever before – and I wonder if the squirrels got lazy, or if the trees know something I do not. 

At any rate, this film left me even more inspired to do my best to restore what has been lost and preserve what remains.  Even though I am not a garden designer in the caliber of Mary Reynolds, I only wish I could draw what is in my head, I have a painting or two in the house that remind me of times gone by to follow as examples.  A big part of my heart is to share with others the love for wild places before they are all cemented or black topped over.
We can’t necessarily change the whole world ourselves, but we can make changes in our own back yard. 
It would seem Mary and I have more than a love for wild spaces in common....

“I’ve come to think that the only solution to sustainable gardening and landscaping is for everyone to grow their own food, especially in urban areas,” she says. “It’s the most reasonable and healthy way of working with land.”

To cultivate a garden that can feed a family of four, Reynolds explains, takes about 10 years of work.

“That’s a daunting number of years, but to repair the damage between people and the earth, we need to interact with soil on an individual basis. That means going back to growing food sustainably and creating a sustainable flow of natural energy,” she says. “If we are to take back the land from industrial farming and agribusiness, that’s what we need to do.” Read more of the interview here….


Eat Your Food - Naturally!

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Combating Things Untried

As a first gen farmer w/o anyone nearby to turn to, I have found that I sometimes hesitate to try new things around here because my nature is to err on the side of caution, or I spend so much time on the ol' learning curve, it feels faster to just keep on, keeping on.

I have some great mentors, but I hate to bug them every time I have a question, and I know you can look up just about anything on line - and I do my share of that as well.

As ladies, I think we sometimes may not tackle things we've not experience with, or things we haven't seen done, by other women.At least, that's what I've been told by some women.

I dove in this year to use some weed barrier on long term crops. Something I've not done in the past. I hesitated to use plastic or any kind of synthetic mulch, for biological reasons. I thought maybe I'd kill all of the soil microbes I've so painstakingly cultivated.

But even Certified Organic growers use plastic mulch. It needs to be removed after the season, and I add some native microbes back into the soil as I water using compost tea that is made in part from my soil in undisturbed parts of my farm, anyway, so I think my fears are unfounded.

Then there's the fact that I don't have a mulch layer. Well, I tackled that one, too. (I do have a more complete video of laying out regular mulch, (this first one is paper mulch).)

I'm talking about crops like tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, onions, garlic, and leeks, for instance. These plants don't make a lot of shade and the weeds can still thrive underneath them. Especially if you fight Bermuda grass like I do here at Eden's. If you've followed me long, you know this is a horse pasture turned farm. There's still a LOT of pasture surrounding the 2 acre fenced in garden area, so it will never go away.

So to do my part to help someone coming up behind me, and because everyone keeps saying we need more lady farmers posting things on line, I'm posting a few short videos of things I'm doing, some as I learn how to do them.

I hope you find them helpful - or, at the very least, entertaining for some of you veterans - who will probably blow up the comment field with "why don't you do it "THIS" way instead?" comments.

And that's fine, too, b/c hey, we all need to learn new things all of the time and I've not been at this since I was knee high to a grasshopper like some of you folks. And, I'm just not an engineer-minded kinda gal.

So offer those tips! Just be nice.

I learn from watching and doing, and notes help, too. Maybe I'm a little slow? It doesn't matter. I figure most things out - eventually! I even figured out how to tighten what was loose on my bucket controller the other day when it wasn't acting right. If farming on my own has done one thing for me, and it's done several, trust me, it's made me more daring and brave - and forced me out of the comfort zone many a time to try new things.

So here's the latest of several how to videos I've uploaded. This one demonstrates how to burn holes into the weed barrier using a torch - without burning the place down! I found (the hard way) that just cutting holes doesn't work well because the wind will tend to blow up under the plastic and when it comes down, it can, and often does, comes down on top of your little transplant. :(

I've burnt holes using a small plumbers torch - kept going out. So, I stepped up my game, got a big girl torch and I've not looked back since. Safety first - I have done it out in the field, but I am much less nervous doing this in the driveway - closer to a source of running water. And I'd not ever use it out in the field if it was very dry. Not without a fire extinguisher or a hose with running water nearby.

But I have used artificial mulch on my onion crop already, and even though I lost some due to the hole cutting, instead of burning, they are so much happier this year - and so is my BACK! It's worth the investment, a very small one, and if you're careful, you can do this, too. 

You may have seen some of the other videos on my You Tube channel already - or if not, now's your chance!

I'm not an expert, nor do I play one on TV. I'm just scratching out a living playin in the dirt and enjoying it more than anything I've done for a living in the past.


Farmer Marie
Eden's Organic Garden Center/Eden's Garden CSA Farm

214-348-EDEN (3336)
Home of Eden's Market Day
Real Food, Grown with Integrity
1st & 3rd Saturdays 9-noon
Director, Region 4

If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams and endeavors to live the life, which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.
--Henry David Thoreau

Friday, March 16, 2018

A Hidden Treasure

Maybe it's the excitement and the anxiety of the day. Perhaps it was those last 3 gulps of Noble Coyote Rise and Grind coffee leftover from breakfast that I made into a tepid, cafe mocha with my late light dinner. At any rate, about 2 hours after the cat decided she was hungry, I'm still wide awake. At 3am. Mind racing, replaying the events from the past week, and still, more anxiety over the many tasks yet to do. 

When all else fails sleep, it usually helps when I just start writing down what's racing through my head. Today is a harvest day, though, so that means there's no laying back down at 6am once this energy burst wears off. Maybe, if I am fast enough in the field, I'll have time for a quick power nap later. But for now, I empty my head out onto the keyboard.

It's not easy for many people to reach out and ask for help, and I'm certainly one of them. I was raised, I suppose, to be pretty self sufficient; learning to run a household, care for a younger sibling, myself and in essence my father, will tend to do that to some kids. And even though you miss out on a lot of your childhood and getting to do normal youth stuff, having that kind of responsibility early on can certainly have its benefits. I have not had to rely on any one other person, much of my life, other than myself.

 But when you bite off the responsibility of running several businesses, one of them managing a 14 acre piece of property, you learn quickly that being nicknamed the Energizer Bunny or Superwoman, comes with its limitations in real life. Even superheroes need assistance from time to time. And, thankfully, it's always seemed to come through just when I need it. If, I give myself permission to ask.

I never really set out to be or do anything that I thought was all that special or spectacular in life. Ever since I was a kid, I guess, all I wanted to do, or thought I was supposed to do, was the “right thing” whatever that was.

I was taught to always be thoughtful of how what I did affected others around me. I was careful not to purposely upset anyone, or take advantage of a situation or person's kindness. It may be why it's been so hard for me to speak up in certain situations until things really get uncomfortable.

Somewhere along the way, life didn't exactly turn out quite like I had always expected it would, and I found myself here, farming some land, in a place whose demographics reminded me quite a bit of where I grew up. Simple, hard working, honest, thoughtful people. A bit more rustic perhaps, but quite familiar in many other ways.

Farming, I suppose, came naturally to me for a variety of reasons. For one, I have always enjoyed the outdoors. And having something solid to show for my work, is very satisfying. Unlike shuffling paper, which I did for many years, after putting seeds in the dirt, toiling over them for weeks and months, you have something tangible to hold in your hands. Something that not only yields a monetary return, but something that, I have found, is valuable to others, too.

When those people who value the work of my hands, come back to me, sometimes years later, just to tell me how much the farm and what I do here, what I shared with them or what they learned here, has meant to them and how it changed their lives – well, it is very moving to me. I never imagined knowing what it would feel like having someone I really didn't know all that well, tell me that something I shared with them changed their lives for the better. Helped them improve their quality of life, their health, their children's lives. But I've been very fortunate to have learned what that feels like. And I've
got to tell ya, it feels pretty darn cool.

It often seems to help fuel the super powers, that some seem to think I posses, when they're running low. It certainly gives me something to think about whenever a difficult situation arises and I have to consider the potential solutions. It has only added to my already determined, (or, as some may call it stubborn), nature to push on and through challenges others may chose to call it quits over. I've been tempted on more than one occasion, trust me. But that pull of knowing that what I am doing here day in and day out is having such a lasting, pleasing and positive affect on people, keeps gnawing at me to push through adversity, heartbreak, hot or cold days, floods or droughts – to the next season. Plant that next row of transplants. Start that next flat of seeds. Pull out those crop plans. Mow that path down.

Build it, as they say, and they will come. And they, many of you reading this, have, indeed come. And you have done so over and over, for the past 10 years. 

It's nearly time for you to come yet again to what will be the start of our 11th season of Market Day. This little market has seen its ebbs and flows. Just like the 4 seasons of the year. We started out just planning to meet once a month, but without any other producer-only markets in Dallas at the time, demand morphed it into a twice monthly event that drew people from as far away as Arlington, Allen, Crandall, Duncanville and plenty from the Lakewood area. Now with so many little pop-up "markets" scattered all over the metroplex, this little market has struggled to retain its customer base at times.

Over the years, I've met and hosted many farmers who, sometimes just by virtue of the occupation itself, too, cycled in and out. Sometimes finding that they just couldn't commit to the time it took to produce enough to make driving to a market worth their while. Others, faced family or health hardships that forced them to withdraw. Still a few perhaps lost through attrition of other sorts, and were either just not replaced, or not invited back. And some, found more traffic at new markets near where perhaps some of our original customers actually live and now could walk or ride bikes to, instead of drive the 15 or 20 minutes it took to get here. 

But that's ok. Because people everywhere have to eat. And everyone deserves the opportunity to nearby access of this Real Food, Grown with Integrity. I can't be everyone at once, and neither can other farmers. So we've made due and I meet up with farmers on the road sometimes and buy a box of this or that, hang a sign with their name and town on it, and let their farm be represented here in their absence. That's as close to "re-selling" as it gets around here.

The policy I have always held is that the food sold here will first and foremost not be what you can find at any big supermarket, and likely not what you will come to expect at a big "farmers" market, either. There are no wholesale resellers here, for one thing. Never have been. Never will be. And no one who sells here, is a conventional farmer. You can't just pull up in your truck and open the tail-gate and sell to my customers if I don't know you from Moses. You all have come to trust me to vet your farmers and I'll continue to do so.

And even though when I started out, I wasn't a farmer but simply a garden center retailer, I wanted you to be able to shake the hand that feeds you. I wanted the farmers and ranchers themselves to be here to meet you, to answer any questions you may have about certain cuts of meat – because heaven knows I sure couldn't answer most of those. I still can't. It's all I can do to remember the variety names of the 20 some odd types of tomatoes, squash, garlic, melons or other vegetables and fruit I grow. I used to be able to tell you the Latin names of most of the perennials I sold, but if you had asked me the difference between an heirloom and an open pollinated seed, or a cantaloupe and a musk melon, I may not have been able to give you a very good explanation. Now, I probably couldn't order off of an ornamentals availability list to stock a nursery store shelf without Google's help, but I can probably tell you the optimum soil temperature in which to germinate a lot of vegetable seeds.
But that's ok, too. I found somewhere along the line, that growing, and sometimes selling, seeds and plants that people are going to eat, that are going to provide physical nutrition, in this neighborhood, was more important than growing eye candy. I often miss growing lots of flowers, and I've vowed to do more of it each year. But there is something immensely satisfying about growing food that is nutrient dense, delicious beyond the wildest imagination and that's not been doused with toxic synthetic pesticides or fertilizers that strip the soil and pollute the water or that can make some people sick. I can take little kids or elderly people alike, with their fragile immune systems, and not worry about them succumbing to the temptation to grab and eat a cherry tomato or tasting the sweetness of snow peas straight off the vine, or popping open a fava bean sheath and chewing on the pod till the beans squish in their mouths or pulling a carrot up out of the ground, wiping some of the dirt off it, and crunching into it, right there in the field.

And whenever, (in this business, it's not ever “if”), I've gotten into a jam, there are always those thoughtful and capable folks out there, that roll up their sleeves, or pull out their checkbooks, and pitch in to help me keep this farm going. Thankfully, I've learned better how to ask for help. And this place has survived many a challenge, so you can keep coming to get what you've learned to expect here, and I can keep experiencing the high I get watching you bite into that first burst of summer tomatoes or melons, squeal with joy over a baby chick, and laugh at the antics of Tom Tom the heritage turkey.

I'm inviting new farmers who share my growing habits, and although many are members of TOFGA, most are not certified organic either, to join us this year at Market Day. I call us the un-conventional farmers. We come from different backgrounds, have different reasons for doing what we do, but in general, we share one thing in common, if nothing else; We want to give back to the soils. That, my friends, is a true, organic farmer's mindset.

At times I've been a bit conflicted to find myself in a position to buy and take over the stewardship of this hundred year old homestead. It wasn't always what I wanted to do, and yet, now I work hard to preserve its integrity and beauty for anyone else who wants to enjoy it. I really now feel a bit of a sense of obligation to preserve a place I've been so very fortunate to find.

I often find I have to try very hard to show some people that haven't been here, the value of this place, that many others have helped me to see. This land, this homestead, really is a treasure.

I myself didn't realize its true value, until I started working the land with my own two hands; restoring topsoil that washed away decades ago. Walking through the wooded areas, watching the life on the pond and back at the creek where native birds and insects and plants thrive, gives you new filters through which to see things. Seeing the children in awe of the place, always brings a smile. And adults taking a deep breath as they disconnect from the city, reminds me, often, to stop and take in the beauty, too.

As one of my long time CSA members just recently put it in a beautifully written letter to the city in our quest to protect the farm from a recent building development threat; creating “...a meeting place where people come to fill their baskets and bags with healthy, sustainably-grown produce and share their lives and stories with each other.”, has become an unexpected extension of a long-time past tradition of gathering at the springs just up the road from the farm, at Mr. John Balch's homestead.

Come gather with us this season, fill up your baskets and bags, starting in April. Won't you? 

Bring your stories, your kids and your reusable shopping bags. 

We'll leave the gate open for you! 


Eat Your Food - Naturally!