In the garden, a baby snake taught me a powerful lesson. If I want to live in a vibrant, healed planet, I need to be brave enough to love all the creatures who make it so. Even the ones who make me a little uncomfortable.
The first year I took my land out of industrial corn/soy production, Butterweed, Daisy Fleabane, and Giant Ragweed took over. I tried to grow cover crops that year, and the Giant Ragweed was particularly difficult to work around. I was still trying to figure out what to do about these “problems” when they just…vanished. Now I have a lot of grasses and goldenrod, dandelion and violet, and lesser amounts of vine and tree volunteers. Even these plants are temporary, and eventually they’ll make way for the next stage of growth. It’s just another stage of succession in the land’s march back to its highest self.
Raccoons might be my favorite animals. I identify with them on a deep soul level, and I truly admire their adaptability, ingenuity, and curiousity. Their impressive cleverness is precisely what puts them into frequent conflict with the human world, a society that ironically prizes intelligence above all else. Raccoons find a way to survive and thrive no matter the circumstances, but tensions ease when there’s plenty for all. This article is about raccoons, mulberry trees, and cultivating greater abundance in our shared world.
The American Hazelnut (Corylus americana), also known as American Filbert, is a small tree or shrub in the Birch family. Although our native hazelnut is a different species than most hazelnuts available commercially, it is widely reported that the nuts produced by our native tree taste very similar to the more widely available European species. Read the full article to learn more about this amazing native food plant!
In 2017, I received an EQIP (Environmental Quality Incentives Program) grant from the USDA Natural Resources Conservation Service. This grant pays part of my costs
The Riparian Buffer Native Food Forest project is well underway. It’s an ever-evolving work and while it will never be “finished”, the initial planting phase
“When the last tree is cut, the last fish is caught, and the last river is polluted; when to breathe the air is sickening, you
I never expected to be a wetland farmer, but now I can’t imagine being anything else. A wetland is a special gift, teeming with life and bounty and potential. It doesn’t speak the language of conformity, and it won’t shine if you try to dress it up like a corn field. Given the right care, the right plants, and a little patience, it can become something truly amazing.