January’s Harvest

It may surprise you to learn that the garden is still alive. A selection of cold hardy crops have been riding the weather like waves, wilting during the cold and dry periods only to perk up and shine after each warm rain. I haven’t been able to bring myself to harvest, preferring to savor the visual feast of green vitality deep into winter. But the forecast for tomorrow holds a frigid low of 8° F, and I doubt there will be many plants left standing after that weather passes through. Ah well. I was going to eat them eventually, and a fresh feast is especially welcome on a cold, windy night like tonight.

What’s for dinner? Clockwise from Top-left corner: Parsley, Mixed Salad Greens, Ruby Red Swiss Chard, Chioggia Beet, French Breakfast Radish, Malaga Radish, Dwarf Blue Curled Scotch Kale.

A note about planning for a winter harvest: I did plant a specific fall garden (though I got a late start with it). The radishes and mixed salad greens (mesclun) came from that fall planting. The kale was planted in early spring, the chard followed in early summer. They have produced abundantly across the seasons, harvested carefully using the “cut and come again” method. This means that rather than chopping down the whole plant to harvest, I repeatedly snip off the oldest individual leaves throughout the season, always leaving several healthy young leaves on the plants to keep the plant alive and growing. As for the parsley and beets, they were also spring planted. They became shaded by other plants, which slowed their growth and prevented a summer harvest. Once those taller plants were out of the picture, these little lurkers filled in the newly available space.

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The Promise of the New Year

Last night we bid farewell to 2021. It was an intense year for me, packed tightly with highs and lows. I built a garden, I tried my hand at market growing. I read many books, I studied, I wrote. I re-launched my photography business. I stayed home, I traveled, I met new friends, I reunited with old ones. I lost a loved one to cancer. I’ve lived through days filled with uncontainable joy and gratitude and days that flattened me. I haven’t made as much progress towards my goals as I wanted to make, but I have made significant, measurable progress towards those goals. This morning I woke up with the urge to start the new year with hope, with purpose, and with new life. I spent the day planting seeds.

It’s too early in the season to start most of the garden plants that might readily come to mind. If I started my tomato seeds this early, they’d take over my house by the time the last frost has come and gone. But there are certain kinds of seeds that benefit from an extra early start. Many native plants and medicinal herbs retain their own sense of the seasons, and must experience winter before they will consent to sprout. It’s called cold stratification, and it usually takes about two months. Certain other plants may grow very slowly from seed, even though they don’t need cold stratification. This category includes perennial herbs such as sage. I’m starting those seeds now as well.

Seeds planted in tiny soil blocks.  Twenty individual cubes of soil, each with a single seed resting on top, arranged to form a larger rectangle resembling a baked brownie.

My current preferred method for cold stratification when growing transplants is to plant the seeds that need it in tiny cubes of freestanding compacted potting soil called soil blocks. In this configuration, about 240 seeds can be started in a single growing tray, which I then cover with parchment paper and slide neatly onto a shelf in my refrigerator. There it will chill for about two months, with an occasional re-moistening now and again. In March, I’ll transfer them to my regular grow light setup and finish germinating them alongside the familiar tomatoes and marigolds.

One full tray of planted soil blocks, ready to load into the refrigerator! Note: I’ve labeled these with post-it notes, but only because I couldn’t find my label of choice (sharpie on masking tape). These will be replaced with something more sticky and more water resistant ASAP. There are few things more frustrating for a grower than raising a bunch of beautiful and healthy plants that you can’t identify because the label failed.
a day's work of seed planting
An honest day’s work! That little device in the bottom-left is the soil block making tool.

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Compost Safety and Leguminous Rhythms

It’s November in Indiana, and I’m raising little bean plants in my guest room. They’re not an early start for next spring’s garden, but a test of some new compost. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t make enough compost this year to nourish the major garden expansion I’m working on, so I purchased a truckload of locally made compost from a nearby lawn and garden supply shop to supplement what I did make.

Other people’s compost is a little bit suspect these days due to the emergence of a new class of herbicides which persist in soil, in plant material, and in animal manure for up to five years after application. These herbicides are sometimes used on conventionally grown grain crops and grazing pastures, so they can wind up in your organic garden through compost, straw, hay, grass clippings, or manure.

Not only do I try to avoid ingesting herbicides as a personal health preference, and not only do I endeavor to manage my farm organically for myriad reasons, but the whole point of herbicides is to kill plants, so nobody wants them in their garden harming their flowers and veggies for the next several years.

Since these chemicals have such a long active life, sometimes persistent herbicides can contaminate a batch of compost by accident if somebody fed their horse something that once grew in a field that was once sprayed and then the manure from that horse is composted, or if contaminated straw or hay was added directly to the compost pile. It’s difficult if not impossible to verify all the inputs all the way to their origin if you’re a business or a municipality who takes in other people’s compostables and makes large quantities of black gold for a whole community. The best way I’ve found to make sure that not-homemade compost is safe is to test it before spreading it on the garden.

Ergo, I have six pots of Phaseolus vulgaris in my guest room right now, and we’re learning a lot about each other. Most interestingly, I learned that they “sleep” every night. They actually fold up their leaves into a relaxed-looking posture and spend the night that way before stretching out for the sun again the next morning. This botanical process is called nyctinasty. According to Wikipedia, “Nyctinastic movements are associated with diurnal light and temperature changes and controlled by the circadian clock.” Not all plants have nyctinastic movements, but some plants do, including beans. I plan to research more about nyctinasty, but I couldn’t wait to share these photos and observations with you all. See below for more info.

So far, all my beans look vigorous and healthy, and all signs point to safe, excellent compost. I’ll know for sure in another week, and then I can proceed with my garden expansion at full speed.

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The November Garden

Jack Frost arrived later than usual this year, but he’s been persistently nipping at the garden for about a week now. The green tomatoes that didn’t have time to ripen on the vine are beginning to blush indoors on my window sill. The final pepper harvest is pickled, sauced, and dried for a steady supply of winter warmth, and the last of the tender herbs are hanging to dry on my kitchen herb clothesline. But while the aforementioned warm season plants are giving back to the compost pile, many hardy crops are still alive and thriving in the garden.

I habitually prolong my harvest of spring-planted hardy vegetables like carrots, kale, beets, chard, kohlrabi, and collard greens well into the winter, but this is the first year I specifically planted a fall garden. Although It has been an overall success, I’ve learned a few things that will impact the way I grow next year’s fall garden.

Firstly, I planted it too late. I planted seeds in the second week of August, which according to all the charts should have been about the right time. However, I wish I had planted 2-4 weeks earlier. Many garden plants can survive freezing temperatures, but plants don’t grow very much during these months. Having live plants in the garden at this time of year is more of a way to keep vegetables fresh by staggering the harvest rather than to actively grow new vegetables, so it’s ideal if the plants have already reached a good size before the sun fades and the temperature drops. As you can see in the photo below, my August-planted fall garden crops are still baby sized.

The second lesson I learned about the fall garden is that autumn is called “fall” for a reason. Dry leaves are falling all over everywhere, on everything. It’s tedious to hand-pick the dry tree leaves out of these baby greens in the garden beds. I think next autumn I’ll try covering my pint-sized plants with floating row cover material. In addition to protecting the plants from temperature swings, this should keep the falling leaves out of my salad greens.

What worked well? I have three extra beds full of delicious baby salad greens, herbs, and radishes that I wouldn’t have had otherwise, had I not planted a fall garden. Space wasn’t wasted, because I re-planted these gardens in the same spaces as my summer-harvested potatoes, garlic, and shallots. Soil that would have been bare at this time of year is kept aerated by plant roots and protected from erosion. Although my first try may not have been perfectly executed, this project is still a big win.

Landis Winter Lettuce, baby sized, in the November Garden

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Pawpaw : The Indiana Banana

A pawpaw fruit may not look creamy and tropical from the outside. In fact, it looks more earthy, like a freshly dug potato. The intoxicatingly tropical scent beckons you to look closer, and when you do, you’ll find this fruit filled with rich and creamy mango-banana flavored custard. The experience is uniquely tropical for an Indiana native tree fruit. In fact, the pawpaw is the only member of its plant family to survive this far north. Its true name is Asimina triloba, of the family Annonaceae. Its relatives are all tropical, and include the Custard Apple, Soursop, and Chermioya. The pawpaw itself is native to most of the Eastern United States.

Pawpaw fruits ripen during the month of September. Though I’ve planted over 50 pawpaw trees, only two have begun to fruit. These two trees are grafted with named pawpaw varieties. Grafted trees will grow and bear fruit faster than seed-grown trees, and the fruit is predictable- if you graft your tree with wood from another tree that bears delicious pawpaws, your tree will produce identically delicious fruit. The downside of grafted trees is they reduce genetic diversity. I prefer to keep most of my trees wild on this farm to preserve more genetic diversity, but it is nice to have a few special grafted trees mixed in. I harvested a total of six pawpaws this year from my two grafted trees, though I could swear I had 8 on my trees at one point. Humans aren’t the only pawpaw lovers!

A pawpaw sliced in half, showing the creamy interior flesh and few large seeds

To enjoy the fruits, slice in half lengthwise. Remove the seeds and set them aside. The seeds are very large and easy to remove. Use a spoon to scoop out the creamy flesh. Do not eat the seeds or the skin.

If you’d like to grow a pawpaw tree for yourself, plant the seeds right away and keep them watered until winter. Pawpaw seeds will not germinate if they dry out. They are not extremely flood tolerant, but they do prefer moist soil and they can handle occasional standing water. They may need irrigation while they become established, during their first three years of growth. It is my understanding that they do not need irrigation after they reach 3 years old, except perhaps during times of extreme drought. They grow well in part-shade, but they fruit best with more sun. This is a native wild tree that grows successfully in the woods without human intervention. Beyond a little water and a little sun, this tree doesn’t ask for much. I never spray mine with anything, nor do I apply any special fertilizers. I just top-dress with a little mulch now and then, and the trees are happy.

Enjoy pawpaws as soon as possible after harvest. They will keep in the refrigerator for a few days, but this is not a long-keeping fruit. You may wonder why you never see this local delicacy in grocery stores, and that is why. The fruits are delicate and they do not ship well or keep a long time.

A scoop of pawpaw flesh on a spoon.  Looks like ice cream.

Though this fruit has enormous culinary potential and is delicious in a wide variety of dishes, I personally have not developed any pawpaw recipes yet. I’ve simply never had more pawpaws in my possession than what I could eagerly devour fresh, cold, and straight up, so I’ve never experimented with preserving them or baking them into things. People do freeze the pulp for winter use in a similar manner as with persimmons, so if you have a bounty, you could give that a try. I look forward to the day when my 50+ trees all come into fruit and I can finally experiment with pawpaw recipes galore.

The Ohio Pawpaw Festival is a great place to immerse yourself in pawpaw culture. There I’ve tried pawpaw beer, pawpaw wine, pawpaw salsa, pawpaw burritos, pawpaw cakes, fresh pawpaws, and more. The festival also features an educational component with pawpaw-related lectures and demonstrations.

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The Herb Clothesline

I grow a lot of herbs in my garden, and one of the ways I preserve them for winter use is by drying. Last summer I dried most of my herbs quickly in an electric dehydrator. While this did work, it wasn’t really necessary. Most herbs (maybe all) will air dry quite nicely without the use of any machinery or electricity.

Robin Wall Kimmerer writes about hanging bundles of drying herbs from the rafters of her home in her book “Braiding Sweetgrass”. I love that image of herbs hanging from the rafters. It feels very beautiful and romantic. For months I daydreamed about how I wish I had rafters in my home, so I could hang herbs from them. I thought about retrofitting some rafters. Then I thought about getting another job so I could afford to retrofit rafters, and then I thought about what would happen to my farm and my quality of life if I did that… no thanks. When the idea finally occurred to me it was painfully simple. Build another clothesline!

Thus the herb clothesline was born, the third in a series of special purpose indoor clotheslines I have built in the past year or so. For the cost of three nails and a few feet of cotton clothesline rope (all of which I had on hand, leftover from other projects) I now have an elegant and energy-free herb drying system.

The Details

I installed this clothesline in the wall studs, but as close to the ceiling as possible. This is so that the herbs will hang high above heads and also above windows, so they’ll be out of direct sunlight. Into three separate studs, I hammered a nail half way in, and knotted the rope onto the protruding part of the nail. A screw would work just as well or better than the nails, but I was out of screws when I made this project. This knot system will allow me to tighten the rope later when it slackens, which I wouldn’t be able to do if I had pierced the rope with the nails.

To hang the herbs, first bundle them together with a rubber band. Then, depending on how careful you want to be, tie them to the clothesline with a piece of string, secure them with a clothespin, or split the bundle and straddle it over the line. My nature is to be careful so I went with string + clothespin.

I think it’s lovely, and my herbs have been drying very well so far.

herb drying clothesline

Just for fun, here are pictures of my other clothesline projects:

This is my patio bistro indoor clothesline. This was the first one I built, and it’s actually for clothes. It doesn’t hold a full load of laundry, but it’s perfect for air drying special delicate clothes or blankets, or for use in combination with a clothes drying rack. I still aspire to building a big outdoor clothesline like my grandma had someday, but this one was much easier and cheaper to construct.
Kitchen Clothesline
This one is my kitchen clothesline. I use this one to hang my reusable freezer bags, regular ziplock bags that I’ve washed for reuse, plastic wrappers washed and destined for ecobricks, nutmilk bags, and cheesecloths. I wrote a whole article about this clothesline if you’re interested in learning more about it.

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Whole Earth

I recently read the book “Half-Earth: Our Planet’s Fight for Life” by Edward O. Wilson. It’s a very thought-provoking book about the rapidly declining biodiversity on planet Earth. In the book, he proposes that the only way to limit future extinctions in a meaningful way is to leave half the planet totally wild, without human intervention. In the other half, our human half, he suggests we concentrate some of our existing activities. Among other things, he suggests we turn to more intense agriculture with more genetically modified crops in an attempt to limit the amount of land we have to damage with our agriculture.

I think Mr. Wilson makes a lot of good points in his book, and his observations on extinctions are certainly eye-opening. But at the end of the book when he proposed his solution, I found myself imagining a different one. What if, instead of separating ourselves more completely from the wild and thriving parts of the Earth, we connected ourselves more deeply? What if, instead of further intensifying our agricultural practices, we rewilded them?

“Clearing a forest for agriculture reduces habitat, diminishes carbon capture, and introduces pollutants that are carried downstream to degrade otherwise pure aquatic habitats en route. With the disappearance of any native predator or herbivore species the remainder of the ecosystem is altered, sometimes catastrophically.”

Edward O. Wilson, “Half Earth”

What if we didn’t farm this way at all? Strawberry Moon Farm is one example of a different kind of farm. On our land, where there once were acres of GM corn and soybeans sprayed with chemicals and likely shipped thousands of miles away for processing, now there are tended forests of native plants. These forests are still very young, but when they mature, my calculations show that they will produce more pounds of food annually than the industrial crops ever could. That food will be more nutritious and (in my own humble opinion) more delicious than industrially produced food. It is food that can be consumed locally, without industrial processing. It can be grown organically, and without irrigation.

While the land produces all this great food for people, it also provides habitat for all kinds of wildlife and insects because it is also a forest of native plants. I’m intentionally reintroducing and tending many species of threatened or endangered native plants to help them re-establish their populations. The farm is producing cleaner water and fresher air and sequestering carbon and preventing erosion at the same time and in the same space as producing food. In the few short years since this project began, flood waters soak into the now permeable earth in days rather than weeks. Butterflies and fireflies have returned in full force. Songbirds, bald eagles, hawks, owls, foxes, snakes, tree frogs, toads, two kinds of squirrels, and more thrive on the land. In the process of doing this work, my own personal connection to the land has deepened, providing immense physical, emotional, and spiritual benefits to me as a human.

“It sometimes seems as though the remainder of American native plants and animals are under deliberate assault by everything Humanity can throw at them. Leading the list in our deadly arsenal are the destruction of both wintering and breeding habitats, heavy use of pesticides, shortage of natural insect and plant food, and artificial light pollution causing errors in migratory navigation. Climate change and acidification pose newly recognized, yet game changing risks.”

Edward O. Wilson, “Half Earth”

I propose that it is not humanity itself but our present culture that assaults biodiversity. Prior to colonization, the Americas were not wild as is commonly said. The “wild” land that settlers “found” was actively and successfully stewarded by indigenous humans in a mutually beneficial partnership. The vast forests were skillfully managed and tended in a way that increased biodiversity, plant health, animal health, and human health.

What if, rather than limiting ourselves to living on half the earth, we rejoined the whole earth in harmony, reclaiming our place as caretakers and stewards of the wild places. What if we stopped eating twinkies and rekindled our taste for acorns and nettles and sunroots and wild berries. What if we didn’t cut down the forests, but replanted them? What if we disconnected our televisions and reconnected to the land. And what if we stocked our farms, yards, and communities with these wild native food plants. What might our world look like then?

Yes, I am proposing a big cultural shift, but a beautiful one. Rather than giving up half the planet, adopting a culture of restriction, and accepting our role as agents of destruction to everything good in our world, we could choose to reorient ourselves towards abundance, partnership, and care-taking. I don’t believe our hope for the future necessarily lies in genetically modified crops and more intensive bioidentical agriculture as Mr. Wilson proposes. Our future could be free, wild, and bountiful. We could grow healthy crops that are native to our bioregions and consume those nourishing foods locally. We could embrace our local ecosystems and work to enhance them. Rather than separate ourselves from the healthy part of the world, we could choose to thrive as a part of it.

For more information on agricultural methods that help make the world a better place, look for books and articles on the topics of Traditional Ecological Knowledge, Permaculture, Native Plant Agriculture, and Regenerative Agriculture. And check out these other articles from Strawberry Moon Farm:

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Cover Crops: When To Grow Them And How

Cover crops are all the rage in regenerative farming, and for good reason. Plants are powerful. This world contains plants that can make nitrogen out of thin air, plants with roots that can break hardpan, plants that can prevent erosion, and plants that can clean contaminated soils. Cover crops were a step on my own path in transitioning the land from corn fields to pasture to native plant food forests. Overall, my cover crop project was successful, but I made some mistakes and learned some lessons along the way. I paid out of pocket for some projects that I might have received funding assistance for, bought some tools I didn’t need, and planted some cover crops that I shouldn’t have. These are some lessons I wish I had learned before I began.

Sprinkle The Seeds On Top

The cover crop project was my first ever project as a farmer. My experiences in horticulture up to that point had all been from the perspective of a gardener. So I thought I would have to rent fancy, expensive, fuel-intensive tools to till the ground and bury the seeds 1/4″ deep as one would in the garden, but bigger. Luckily I got some great advice from my local NRCS representative before I began: surface-sowing works fine. As it turns out, in spite of traditional gardeners wisdom, tilling often does more harm than good for the soil. And when you think about it, how do weed seeds get planted? They just land on the soil and grow. So even though my soil was all crusted over and I was certain that no seed could germinate in it, I took a leap of faith and sprinkled my seeds on top. And, they grew!

P.S. I tried several kinds of broadcast seeders, and abandoned them all in favor of scattering seeds with my hands out of a bucket. The broadcast seeders wasted a lot of seed. I had a lot more control with my hands, and it really wasn’t that hard or time consuming. I was able to sow about 3 acres per day this way. Also, scattering seeds to the four winds is really enjoyable.

Seek Help

There are some governmental assistance programs that can help you pay for your cover crops, if you’re eligible. I planted my first few rounds of cover crops on my own dime, but later I received some funding assistance through NRCS in the form of an EQIP (Environmental Quality Incentives Program) grant to help me finish. If you’re planning to do a soil conservation project in the United States, it might be worth contacting NRCS to see how they can assist you.

Fields of Clover

Learn Your Local Weeds

I wasted time hand-pulling weeds out of my cover crop my first year. This was a losing battle. But even if you’re determined to pull weeds, you only need to pull the perennial ones. Annual and biennial weeds can be easily controlled just by mowing them down before they set seed. Plant identification is a learning process though, and the weeds I see on my farm land are different from the weeds I was accustomed to seeing as a gardener. I suggest joining a local plant forum where you can share plant pictures and exchange IDs, or downloading a plant identification app to help bring you up to speed quickly. These days, I let most of the weeds do their thing and I only expend energy removing plants if they are poisonous, irritant, or extremely invasive (namely poison hemlock, poison ivy, and garlic mustard).

Scythes Work Best on an Acre or Less

I was determined to mow my sorghum-sudangrass cover crop with a scythe. This is a crop that is planted for its vigor. It has incredible roots that can break up hardpan layers in the soil, and it produces a massive amount of biomass up top, which when mowed, becomes a nice mulch for the soil. It does need to be mowed, though. I was drawn to the idea of mowing with a scythe in order to avoid the maintenance, cost, and fossil fuel use of a mower. And I had heard many rave reviews about scythes within the permaculture community. So I bought a scythe and I tried it. But not only was I unable to mow ten acres this way, I was unable to mow even two. My field had some volunteer tree saplings in it and some giant ragweed with thick rigid stalks that frequently caught the scythe blade mid-swing. And it was hard work. By the time I made it from one end of my smallest field to the other, my body was in ragged shape and it was time to start over at the beginning again. My husband saved the day by borrowing a pull-behind brush hog and finishing that mowing job himself, because a regular lawn mower can’t handle 8 foot tall vegetation, and I can’t start a pull cord engine to save my life. Luckily, none of my other cover crops were this huge, and the crimson clover that followed it needed no mowing at all. Even after all this, I still think the scythe has a place on the farm. It would be excellent at cutting smaller cover crop rotations from the garden or harvesting a small grain crop.

Consider Seasonal Rainfall Patterns

Once, as a gardener, I planted a buckwheat cover crop in the summer. It grew beautifully, fitted in nicely after some of my other crops were done producing, provided great forage for the bees in a time of dearth, and improved my soil. I sought to recreate this on the farm. But, one key factor of my earlier success was that I had irrigation in that garden, and I do not have irrigation in all my farm fields. Turns out, there isn’t enough rainfall in summer for the crop to establish itself, and my summer buckwheat cover crop didn’t thrive. All my early spring plantings did well without irrigation though, as did my late-fall-planted crimson clover.

Grasses and Weeds Are Cover Crops Too

All the cover crops I have discussed up to this point are annuals, and they add the most value when they are grown as one rotation of many on an annual crop farm or garden. Since I was transitioning my farm from annuals to perennials, I now realize that I could have skipped a few steps. My final cover crop was a perennial blend of pasture grasses and clovers. The pasture grasses need no fertilizer or irrigation, and they do a great job of keeping the soil aerated and protected from erosion, preventing nutrient loss, and addding organic matter. The clovers add nitrogen to the soil and provide food for the bees. Looking back through the lens of experience, I suspect these perennial plants would have grown just fine if I had planted them straight away and skipped all the annual cover crops. Even certain weeds can function as free cover crops! I especially value the dandelions for their taproots, the clovers for their nitrogen-fixing abilities, and the wild grasses for their erosion prevention.

If you’re interested in learning more about cover crops, check out this comprehensive resource by SARE.

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The Food In The Forest

One of the iconic paradigms of permaculture is a food forest. The idea is as follows:

“By understanding how forests grow and sustain themselves without human intervention, we can learn from Nature, copy the systems and patterns to model our own forests — ones filled with trees and plants that produce food we can eat.”

Angelo Eliades, Permaculture News Magazine

Food forests are beautiful in concept and application, and many indigenous cultures throughout the centuries have practiced agroforestry techniques along these lines. If you’re starting with a lawn or a farm field, then planting a food forest is kind of like planting turbo-charged garden, and it’s likely to be a major ecological, environmental, and aesthetic improvement over what was there before. But what if your lot is already wooded? Should you cut down existing trees to replace them with food-bearing trees?

I encountered this very dilemma on the land I steward. Strawberry Moon Farm is about 10 acres in size; minuscule compared to all of the neighboring farms. Of this, we have 2.4 acres of frequently flooded wetland, 3.6 acres of woods, and 4.4 acres of former corn fields and lawn. By mainstream thinking, that equates to 4.4 acres of “good farm land”. At first, I believed this misconception about good and bad land, and I was not sure if the 4.4 classically-appreciable acres would allow enough room for all the plantings I had in mind for this farm. I briefly considered cutting down some trees in the woods to make space for more “food trees”. Ultimately, the idea of cutting down lots of trees made me feel a little sick. But don’t we need food? Aren’t there hungry and undernourished people in our community? Isn’t it important to reduce food miles? And, if I plant new trees, does that make up for cutting down existing trees? The old ones? The native ones? Is a food forest better than a wild forest?

Luckily, I was not forced to make that impossibly heart-wrenching choice. And if you are facing a similar tough decision, relax. There is really good news here. The forest is already made of food.

If you have a wood lot on your property, go to your library and borrow a nice field guide for tree identification in your locale. Take it with you as you walk through your woods. Identify as many trees as you can, and write down their names. Later, employ high technology to its highest purpose, and google those trees. Learn all you can learn about them. Search for them in the Plants For A Future database. Search for them in ethnobotanical databases, such as BRIT. Find out as much as you can about the ways indigenous people use them for food, medicine, tools, and fiber. Learn any modern uses. Learn which mushroom species can be cultivated on the fallen branches from each tree. Learn about its importance to wildlife and pollinators, about its lifecycle, and about its impact on soil, water, and air quality. Learn about its native range, and find out if it is endangered. Chances are, most of the trees in your woods have at least one wondrous purpose, and your only real task is to learn how to responsibly partake of their gifts.

In my case, the woods provide walnuts, hickory nuts, acorns, beech nuts, sweet syrups, cherries, grapes, mulberries, fresh greens of many types, edible flowers and seeds, blackberries, raspberries, herbs, and spices. And I am convinced that is not all, that there is much more value in my woods that I have not yet learned to see. We are not talking about a token yield of a few snacks here, but rather about buckets and buckets of harvest every year, for which we need do no work other than learn what it is and be present to gather it and give thanks. In the future, when I have the time available, there is ample opportunity for me to engage with these woods in a more meaningful way. If I remove some of the invasive undergrowth, I could cultivate many more food and medicine herbs, brambles, and shrubs under the shade of the old canopy. I could inoculate fallen logs with edible mushroom spawn, and harvest the fruiting bodies. I could plant young saplings to replace dead and dying trunks, and eventually harvest their bounty. I could reintroduce numerous species of endangered or threatened native plants. I am only beginning to scratch the surface of all that is possible in these woods.

The key skills in farming the woods are to observe with attention and intention, to learn to recognize gifts of great worth, and to learn how to harvest responsibly and sustainably. One cannot approach a woodland with arrogance and a closed mind and expect to leave with an abundant harvest. Unfortunately, that’s what the first colonists of my county did, and it resulted in most of our old growth forests being cleared, most of our wetlands being drained, and a labor-intensive, resource-intensive monoculture imposed over the ashes of a once great land.

“Tall trees covered the whole county with their wide-spreading branches, depending to the ground, and the shrubbery below arose and united with the branches of the trees…In the open space, in the valleys, grew either prickly ash or nettles, both equally armed with sharp, fiery prickles…Where spice-wood did not grow to thickly, male fern formed a solid mass three feet in depth, covering logs and pit falls so completely” …

“During a dry time, two or three men might, by merely sowing and deadening over with fire, burn up the whole superincumbent covering over eight or ten acres in a single day… till the whole county, in an incredibly short time, was brought into cultivation.”

-Judge Franklin Harden, “A Historical Sketch of Johnson County” (1881)

Had Judge Harden (one of the first colonists of my county) and his people made a priority to learn from the indigenous people who were already engaged in a longstanding fruitful and reciprocal relationship with this land, perhaps we would all be living a more abundant life today. If he had studied more deeply, he might have learned that prickly ash, nettles, spice-wood (spicebush), some species of ferns, and many species of tall trees already produce premium quality food, and some of those plants have useful medicinal applications as well. Furthermore, there were likely many other magnificent species that he overlooked in his haste to slash and burn.

“There were wild plums, strawberries, grapes, pawpaws, persimmons, crabapples, and many varieties of berries. The acorn of the bur oak, Indian potatoes, and tubers of the water chinkapin, arrowleaf, and Jerusalem artichoke supplied starch. Common milkweed, flowers of the mulberry, early shoots of skunk cabbage, sour dock, wild onion, and a number of other plants were prized as greens. Teas were made from spikenard, spicebush, sassafras, and several other plants.”

-Stewart Rafert, an account of the wild local bounty known and enjoyed by one of Indiana’s largest indigenous tribes, the Miami. From “The Miami Indians of Indiana, A Persistent People” (1999).

I wish I could have seen my state covered by that old and abundant forest made of food. Past harms cannot be undone, but we can choose to learn from the mistakes of our past and to make a better decision today. I’m grateful for the wild spaces that remain, and I will do what is in my power to do to preserve and restore them. The woods on my land are not old, but they are becoming old. A token few trees may have lived a century or longer, but most are 50 years or younger. It is likely that someone of my grandparents’ generation planted the majority of these trees. That planting was a great gift. I hope someday, when a future generation inherits the new native tree forest that I have planted, they can recognize the inherent worth of it, and steward it on into the future. And as I begin to plant the 4.4 “good” acres on this farm, I find my plans evolving towards more and more native food-bearing trees and plants over the more common (mostly Eurasian) orchard crops. The native plants offer a brilliant package of joy and nourishment for the entire ecosystem. Perhaps one day, the old forest of abundance will return to these ten little acres in Johnson County.

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Sage Advice

I’m growing two varieties of garden sage (Salvia officinalis) in the herb spiral this year. One plant was simply labeled “Sage”, and the other was labeled “Berggarten Sage”. Early in the summer, it seemed like Berggarten Sage was extra productive, but regular Sage has totally caught up and now both are producing about the same amount. The Berggarten variety has a slightly milder flavor, and huge round leaves. The large size of the Berggarten leaves is an asset when making fried sage leaves, such as are used in one of my favorite lasagna recipes. In most other recipes, the sage leaves are chopped and/or dried, and there is only a slight flavor difference between the two varieties. Both varieties are labeled as hardy perennials in zones 5-9. I planted them in zone 6, so I hope to enjoy both of these plants for years to come!

Most people don’t think of sage when they go to brew a cup of tea, but sage makes a very nice herbal infusion. Brew as you would mint tea. À votre santé!

Pro tip: In past years, I’ve tried growing sage in the ground with no success. Sage enjoys dry climates and well drained soil. It does not thrive if the soil is soggy all spring long, such as is common here in central Indiana. If thriving sage plants have eluded you in the past, consider growing it in a raised bed, or near the top of an herb spiral. A little elevation has made all the difference for me!

Both plants were purchased from Companion Plants nursery in Ohio in May 2020.

If you enjoyed this totally ad-free, affiliate-link-free, sponsored-content-free, subscription-fee-free, 100% honest free article, please consider showing us some love! You can help us and our cause of Earth-positive agriculture by sharing this article with your friends, following us on social media, and interacting with our posts. If you’re feeling especially generous, you could also toss us a few coins through a free platform called Ko-Fi. It’s easy to use and processes through PayPal so you don’t have to create a new account.