FoodShed Planet

A Jubilee of Ideas, Connections, Harvests (including IdeaMensch and the African Children's Choir) UPDATED

2012-05-27T07:56:00.000-04:00

It is suddenly Blackberries. Well, no, I shouldn't say that. I saw it coming--the flowers, the fruit. But every year when the deep purple appears, it somehow surprises me. They are hidden under leaves and thorns, and getting to them requires some work (and usually pain).

This week, as the school year was ending here in metro-Atlanta, I cleaned out closets and drawers and the garage, even finally letting go of my push reel mower (which is part of the most documented lawn story in the United States). Feliciomo recycled it for scrap metal. The clutter is gone now, and I have room again. Literally. Figuratively. And I realized that, like the blackberries, great opportunities await us if we make the room for them, and notice them when they appear, and endure the pain it sometimes takes to embrace them.

I used to think it was all about the food. I still have that voice inside me that says, "Two pounds per square foot times five dollars per pound . . ." and yes, this is a useful and satisfying voice. But it's not the whole truth, is it?

It's not about the food (although I am totally loving the potatoes and onions). It's about an energy that creates an ecosystem, in our gardens, in our hearts, and, inevitably, in our world. It's about connecting what's good and connecting with others. It's about ideas that grow into action.

Two new people entered my life this week: Susie Newday and Mario Schulzke. Susie is a Jewish mother of five in Israel who works as an ER oncology nurse and who somehow got wind of a site a 20-something German man in L.A. created named IdeaMensch. Susie sent Mario so many ideas day after day after day that they now work together, half a world and half a lifetime away (you can read the cute story about their relationship on Mario's blog here).

The email I received from Susie this week was, like the blackberries, a surprise, but shouldn't have been, I guess, as I have been growing as well. She and Mario wanted to feature me on the site, and the questions they asked me were so soul-searching, that, frankly, I feel almost like the garage--cleaned out. I'm also particularly honored to have had the chance to share with the world some of my heroes, and to share space online with others bringing their ideas to life. I am part of their ecosystem now, and they are a part of mine. Here is the interview. Thank you, Mario and Susie, for all that you do and all that you are.

And somehow, as I think of Susie in Israel and Mario in L.A., and Betty in Cameroon now (although her latest posts are from Nepal), I wonder if, perhaps, we, you and I and all of us, are truly the people for whom we've been waiting. You and I and all of us, from across generations, across continents. We are the ecosystem we have been trying to create.

My friend Erin Levin (pictured) quit her job at Better World Books a week or so ago, and is currently fulfilling her dream to film a documentary about the African Children's Choir. The African Children's Choir is a group started years ago because of the idea of one man who heard one child sing, that if a choir of the world's most vulnerable children traveled the world and raised their voices in beautiful song, they would raise awareness and show that despite the desolate circumstances they come from, they have beauty, dignity, hope and unlimited potential. The following just-released music video, in honor of the Queen of England's Diamond Jubilee, features the African Children's Choir, and clearly demonstrates our human connection. I showed this video to my daughters last night, and a new level of understanding of what we're all doing, separately, together, stirred inside of me.

A jubilee = a season or an occasion of joyful celebration.

Blackberries. Summer. Simple joys. A community of people who bring ideas to life. Voices singing out, being heard. A world connected.

Yes, a jubilee indeed.

UPDATE 5/30/12: Mario is taking IdeaMensch on the Road! See what he's doing, and why, here.

"But Neither Are You Free to Abandon It"

2012-05-20T06:40:00.000-04:00

So the kids aren't coming anymore to the back field urban farm row, as far I can tell (field day, finals, end of school), so I went out there and pretty much just finished things up. Spread the hay. Removed the broken rain barrel. Added little signs and darkened the ones already there. Repurposed that huge bamboo teepee. Brought the bird bath from the fall class. Painted a bigger sign identifying the space now as Public Produce, inviting anyone who wants to to get involved.

And then I remembered the week before, when I saw three fire trucks full of firefighters (from the firehouse walking distance away) show up at the community garden. A couple of days later, I read an article about how the firefighters are now gardening at the greenhouse, which is another part of the community garden, just up the road in the same park.

And then, for some odd reason, I had a flashback to yoga class, back when I used to go to the nearby community center, back when my friend was dying (six years ago this week, and yes, the hydrangeas are blooming again), back when "downward dog" was the only way I could keep looking forward.

So, anyway, at yoga class, there were these windows that looked out onto a lobby, and there were banners hanging, one of which was clearly visible to me. It said this:

"You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it."

When I asked permission from my city to grow out there in the back field, I said it was a semester-only pilot project with the kids, that there would be easy-to-maintain crops out there for over the summer, and that at the end of the summer growing season I would either toss cover crop seeds or let the space return to nature, unless the community garden or some other group wanted to take it over and get new permission from the city to do so.

The school has expressed no interest in getting more involved (although the coach of the health class that participated is clearly passionate about starting a school garden at the school). The community garden has its hands full (click here to help it win an orchard, or click here to vote for the community garden near you) and hasn't mentioned taking over any school outreach efforts. I was ready to just finish things up over the summer and walk away (although a mint-growing student or non-profit-involved micro-enterprise idea I have involving an artisan ice cream company keeps nagging at me . . . I'm not done with that idea yet, but it most likely won't happen in the back field).

But then that darn line from yoga class kept reverberating in my head.

What if I could find another steward? I asked myself. What if I could pass this on to trusted hands? What if this could be the beginning of something, rather than the ending?

So, after first offering the suggestion to the community garden (although the back field is not technically a part of that), I went to the firehouse yesterday. I met the two captains, one of whom is retiring in a week or so and will have more time on his hands (and who told me while smiling that he used to garden with his grandmother). He came out to the back field and my friend Bob and I showed him around. I told him how beautiful it is out there when the sun rises, how peaceful and free and wide-open it is. How much food could be grown, just on the little space already under cultivation (the kids had computed that they were cultivating 553 square feet--the two long rows, plus a big circle--which has the potential to produce 1,106 pounds of food per year, for a food value of $5,530). How much good could be done. I invited his participation over the summer, and that of others at the firehouse (who have already expressed interest in growing healthy food and reducing stress through gardening). I suggested that they talk with the city if they are interested in taking over the space after that (if they want to grow more than what they are growing at the greenhouse) as they would need the city's permission.

(Here's my little video from yesterday about how that space went from Locked Gate to Open Arms.)

And now, of course, we wait and see what grows.

And I get ready to move on.

Have you involved your local firefighters in your city's food growing efforts? You may be surprised at their level of interest. Why not stop by today and get into a conversation about it?

A Way to Make a Measurable Impact in Only An Hour a Week

2012-05-17T06:07:00.003-04:00

Don't want to/have room to/have time to Plant a Row for the Hungry? Well, I have news for you--you don't have to (although see my Operation Plant a Row tips here, if you're gung ho on gardening). I have a one-hour-a-week opportunity for you that could yield an average of 100 pounds of week of beautiful, fresh, healthy food for your local food pantry immediately (or at least that's what's been happening for my friend David, who is one of my friends who actually did help create a new Plant a Row).

* Go to your local supermarket;

* Find the produce manager;

* Ask for good-condition fresh produce that is somehow unsellable (it's actually very sellable, if the stores simply offered a discount on it, but no) to bring to your local food pantry (you are protected by the United States Good Samaritan Law);

* Show up each time at the same week at the store and the employees there will start to think of you and save things for you.

It's as easy as that. The photo collage above shows what David received yesterday by simply doing this. He has been bringing a bounty like this every week for 2-3 months now.

I am still shocked at the quality and quantity of food David is bringing each week. With all we know about wasted food in the United States, I thought every supermarket most likely already had a relationship with Second Harvest, its metro-area food bank, or local food pantry. But it doesn't. (See Introducing the Next Michael Pollan, my blog post following my interview with the author of Wasted Food: How America Throws Away Nearly Half Its Food.) (Also, see this story about Anthony Delgado, another friend of mine gleaning food and doing good.)

Our Ton for Hunger Drive 2012 at the little food-pantry-garden-that-could (now funded for two years thanks to the Wine and Dine Bottle Garden project) is at about 75% of its annual goal of 2,000 pounds of fresh food donated (which includes community garden, food pantry garden, home garden, and supermarket donations). And you know what that means, don't you?

It may be time for a new goal.

Completely eliminate food insecurity in my city, where more than 2,000 citizens live below the poverty line and countless more* are struggling? (Not to mention the vulnerability of the general public when not enough food is grown locally, or when laws that are antiquated or simply show a lack of awareness prohibit citizens from providing for themselves, their loved ones, and their communities in small-scale, urban-appropriate ways.) Sounds like a reasonable, achievable goal.

Completely eliminate food insecurity in a ton of cities? Now, we're talkin'! Let's do it--one little hour at a time. See pages 138-139 in my book for other ways you and your city can increase local food abundance and quality.

* seniors on fixed incomes, the suddenly unemployed (by the way, the self-employed, which includes a larger percentage of Americans every year, don't get severance packages or unemployment when they lose their business), those with mounting medical bills, and others

"See You Tomorrow, One Shoe"

2012-05-15T11:36:00.000-04:00

This is hands-down the best commencement speech I have ever seen. And I am absolutely honored to have crossed paths with this amazing woman, Luma Mufleh of the Fugees Academy, the only privately-funded school in the United States exclusively for refugee children-of-war (see 13 Miles and a World Away). Thank you, Luma, for all you do and all you are. You have changed my life in ways you (and I) don't yet realize.

Real Work to Grow Real Food that Makes a Real Difference

2012-05-13T07:18:00.001-04:00

So, here's what has happened this school year at a community garden and in a back field with that middle school health class, about which I wrote in this post: The Exciting Return of Open Garden--and How a Middle School Got a Garden in Less Than Two Weeks. I decided to share with you the actual emails that I sent to the principal each week as recaps of the class. This class was not lesson-planned. The work the kids did was not master-planned as part of the community garden. It cost a total of $300 (everything else has been donated, such as a garden bed by a city councilor). Draw your own conclusions, and if there is anything in here that can help you in your own school garden efforts, please feel free to use it.

(November 10, 2011)

1. The students were presented with a list of goals and were in charge of determining ways to achieve them.

1. They crushed leaves as a carbon source and mixed them with compost in beds being prepared to grow food for the food pantry.

2. They watered the raised bed they are tending (which they filled and planted last week), and then hooped and row-covered it for continual winter growing.

3. They learned the difference between a garlic head and clove, and how to plant garlic (which they then did).

4. They checked the pumpkin compost mixture they made last week to evaluate appropriate carbon:nitrogen ratio and adjust if needed.

5. They harvested buckwheat seeds to save for soil-building cover cropping for next summer.

6. They transplanted an Asian green named tatsoi (which tastes a bit like spinach) from a demonstration commercial greens grow bed into a food pantry bed.

7. They learned to identify cilantro, lavender, three types of lettuce, two types of cabbage, and two types of kale

8. They did real work to grow real food.

9. They were necessary.

(November 17, 2011)

The kids finished filling all the empty food pantry beds with leaves and compost, plus they transplanted into two other food pantry beds, added lettuce seeds to their bed, checked the pumpkin compost and adjusted the carbon, and watered the new plantings. They all left with a sprig of mint, which helps increase alertness (hope that helped back in the classroom!).

The students were amazed that the garlic they planted just last week was sprouting, and I was amazed that a wheelbarrow with no wheel presented the kids with an opportunity to create their own solution--two and four of them at a time carried it instead, over and over again.

(December 6, 2011)

Quick initial comment: The student photographer does such an excellent job of getting photos that don't show the kids' faces! She really has a future as a journalist! (Is she a good writer? Is there a school newspaper? Just a thought . . . )

Anyway, thank you so much for coming today. We harvested 44 pounds (which the kids weighed, and added), for a donated value of $220 (as the kids computed correctly, based on $5 per pound). They also harvested from the Team Peachtree bed, which didn't exist five weeks ago. As you can see in the photo of the red bucket in the walk-in cooler at the food pantry (where we brought it after the harvest), the garden produce will be the only green, fresh food that the food pantry clients receive tomorrow.

After working with these children the last five weeks, I am confident that a garden at Peachtree would be a success as the children are capable of doing real work to grow real food that makes a real, measurable difference. Come dig with us whenever you can get away from the office and you will probably start loving it out there, too! Here is a photo of the school garden at Coan Middle School in the City of Atlanta. As you and I discussed briefly, it is an "urban farm" model, which means basically that it has long rows instead of individual plots, and which is the model you see more often with middle schools. I think this is a better fit for the energy level, work ethic, strength, and enthusiasm of the kids I've seen so far.

The reality is that kids don't wait. They grow up. My 16-year-old has never once had her hands in a school garden. I am grateful my 11-year-old now does. Everyone at our garden has enjoyed working with the children and we thank you both for enabling this to happen. I will be sad to see this group rotate out but excited to meet the next group, who will have a chance to continue the work already started.

(December 8, 2011--the kids came twice that week)

Today, my fellow garden-member Nicole led the kids in adding organic fertilizer to the many beds they had filled with compost, manure, and leaves over the last few weeks. They learned how it includes cottonseed, kelp meal, rock phosphate and dolomite lime (and was created by a fellow garden member, Shawn). Then, they got to transplant into the new beds that are now completely prepared for growing for the food pantry.

A number of children had been curious about the birdhouse gourds growing in one of the member's beds, so I brought ones I had at home that I had painted. Several boys of Mexican descent shared some nice stories with me about their grandfathers and how they use gourds like this cut in half by a machete for drinking water and for other purposes.

Finally, every student got to visit with my friend Farmer Sue of The Art Barn at Morning Glory Farm (see here: www.theartbarn.com). She brought a heritage-breed lamb who trotted behind her like a dog, and a chicken named Vera Bradley who had been featured on the cover of a magazine with her. This chicken, which looks like it is wearing pajamas, is the type of chicken brought over on the Mayflower. The kids got to hold and pet the animals, and asked many questions of Farmer Sue about them.

I especially enjoyed talking with the children about some of their favorite experiences here in the last five weeks. Many liked crushing the leaves in the beds, and a large number claimed that harvesting for the food pantry was their favorite activity of all.

(March 15, 2012)

It was so great to see a new health class running through the gates to the community garden this morning. This group will be the first people in the City of Dunwoody to grow food on the back field, and they will actually create their grow space, which is two 40' rows, enabled by funding from the Peachtree Charter Middle School Foundation. They will be conducting three different growing experiments: comparing no till, hugelkultur, and double dig, as well as figuring out irrigation solutions and deer-resistant vegetable choices. This is real research that is needed by the community about real challenges in our climate and growing conditions, and the answers to these questions are not yet known.

The kids and Coach Burdette were awesome. The kids clearly knew about the last class that came out for numerous weeks during the fall semester, and they were excited to be there (and worked hard). They should be finished creating the 80' grow space next week, and then can decide as a group what to plant.

Here is a video that shows them running through the gate onto the field. (See video here.)

(March 22, 2012)

Thank you again for allowing these children to join other Dunwoody schoolchildren who have the opportunity to be part of a garden. There is not one lesson that can't be learned in a garden, but I think the most important of all is, for each and every child, that "I am necessary, and I am capable of doing real work that matters."

The kids spread compost, added organic fertilizer (and discovered they can carry 25 pound bags), planted 3 types of potatoes (including Purple Peruvians) and 2 types of onions, turned over cover crops and learned how that helps the soil, and saw once again that they are necessary. They are doing real work to grow real food that makes a real difference.

Here is my friend Bob's post about the middle school kids, titled Enter The Young, and here is an article that ran on the local Patch.

(March 29, 2012)

The kids have finished creating both their rows and are now growing in both of them.

* They remembered to "bend at their knees" when lifting something heavy.

* They asked lots of questions about manure and how that is good as they spread more cow and chicken manure (one boy said the cow manure was his favorite part of the last three weeks as it surprised him so much how nice it smelled).

* They learned how to plant tomatoes (laying down so they could develop a strong root system and foundation to support them as they grow), peppers, and more onions;

* They worked as a team to water by hand with watering cans.

* They continued working on the signs.

* They "turned under" two beds of cover crops in the main garden, as they did last week, and remembered how that benefits an organic garden.

* They saw that it's better to not complain--just get the job done--even when chicken fertilizer stinks.

* And the most exciting part of all, they applied "real world math" to figure out the square footage of the two rows and the compost circle (in which they will be growing as well) to determine this necessary information: They are cultivating 553 square feet (the two long rows, plus a big circle), which has the potential to produce 1,106 pounds of food per year, for a food value of $5,530. And, yes, there were students who were able to show the others how Area= Pi x R squared. The group that computed these numbers then presented the findings to the others.

When I asked at the end for students to raise their hands if they were necessary today at the garden, every hand went up.

(April 12, 2012)

Today the students:

1. Figured out how to equitably distribute 6 wheelbarrows of wood chips around a 4' x 8' bed . A student presented the conclusion (1 load on each of the 4' sides, and 2 loads on each of the 8' sides).

2. Designed, engineered, and built tomato cages out of locally-harvested bamboo. Used loppers, a saw, and twine, and worked in self-determined teams (all girls today). Figured it all out on their own.

3. Toured Don Converse's rain garden (thanks, Don, for leading this!) and continued their concept development about rain harvesting solutions.

4. Planted and watered at least 10 more crop seeds and herb plants (thanks, Ann, for helping!) to see what the deer will leave alone (they apparently like onions as they ate them all, which was a big surprise--the tomato and potato plants seem to be surviving, however).

I'll get more bamboo for more building next week, and I hope we are able to do a couple of actual pilot projects in the next couple of weeks re: the rain harvesting solutions as well. And let's hope the whole row doesn't become just one big deer salad bar! We left room on the "Deer Like: " sign for many more entries just in case.

(April 19, 2012)

Great projects in the "back field" today. The students worked more on their structures (tomato cages and cucumber/bean teepees), they created a simple rain harvesting system, they added fish emulsion to their plants and seedlings growing from last week's planting (which the deer didn't eat--hurray!), they tossed the compost made from smashed pumpkins from the group in the fall, and they learned three new words:

1. Olfactory (the sense of smell, which is considered the most powerful sense--they smelled the gross fish but also peppermint, lemon balm, spearmint and lavender);

2. Soporific (sleepy effect--they smelled lavender and were reminded how Beatrix Potter included this word in her story about Peter Rabbit, and found out that sometimes lavender farmers fall asleep in the fields, and that lavender is used in bath products for babies because of its soporific effect);

3. Prolific (bountiful--they saw how I'm growing sweet potato plants from a sweet potato in water and how prolific it is).

They learned that I have no answer for "What do I do next?" That's for them to figure out.

My favorite moment of the day was when one boy smelled the herbs and asked me, "How do you get them to smell like that?"

All of them raised their hand when asked if they were necessary today.

(May 3, 2012)

I think today was the best yet, and I'll tell you why. So far, I've seen particularly excellent collaboration skills from the kids, but I was not fully satisfied that the traits of self-motivation, innovation, and curiosity were sufficiently developed in these students and I believe these are traits needed for a changing world. Yet today:

* A girl told me she was going to remove some very stubborn weeds and proceeded to walk all the way back to the community garden to get a shovel to do it, and then did it. This was not on the Goals list. No one told her to do it. She just saw it needed doing and did it.

* A boy who has been doing a lot of talking about the "lack of water" issue for weeks now, yet had been a little lacking in actually doing anything about it, brought an oversized umbrella with him from home and went to work on fixing the broken umbrella rain barrel immediately. He rigged it with string in a way that hadn't been done before, or suggested by anyone. I think it's going to work!

* A group of girls were bursting with pride after working with Coach Burdette to improve the tomato cages they have been working on for 3 weeks now, including the total rebuilding of one of them. One girl told me they just weren't good enough before and they wanted to make them better. She was smiling from ear to ear.

In other exciting news, a boy befriended a cricket (which gave me an opportunity to mention the Newbery Honor Award-winning book, A Cricket in Times Square, which many of the kids knew), all of the kids seemed very interested when I showed them the worm bin (although only one student in the class had ever been in a classroom that had one) and they made and used a liquid worm castings tea to water, the herbs were a big hit again (including learning how to say "rosemary" in Spanish--romero), and they were introduced to the idea of "companion plants" by planting marigolds by the tomatoes because they emit a chemical that keeps bugs away.

I'd like to extend a big, special thanks to Ann (as the kids did today), whose diligent watering day after day has been critical during these days of no-rain for helping the kids' seeds to germinate and transplants to thrive.

The sad news of the day? The in-my-face realization of just how eco-illiterate and nature-deficient this generation of kids is. Many 12-year-olds do not know that photo 1 leads to photo 2 which leads to photo 3 in the collage above. Sitting in the shade of the tree, with little seedlings all around us, enabled this quick impromptu lesson to take place. PLEASE encourage your teachers and parents to get outside with the kids. They are literally starving for nature knowledge, and the lessons from all their classes will come alive in ways they will never forget. The other sad thing? I don't think they know how to use a microscope. I gave it to them to "explore." They told me they "couldn't get it to work." Next time, I guess I'll have to show them how to actually use it. Do they not have these in school?

So that I don't end on a sad note, once again every single student can tell you exactly what they did to be necessary. I also want to say that I saw Ron Clark, Disney Teacher of the Year, best-selling author, subject of the TV Movie of the Year based on his story, and head of the world-renowned non-profit school The Ron Clark Academy, speak last night (he did the entire presentation while standing and dancing on a desk) and it reinforced for me what a great thing Coach Burdette is doing with this fun, hands-on, multi-sensory, kinesthetic learning for his health class. Thank you for involving me in this very special pilot project.

(May 10, 2012)

BIG, huge thanks to Farmer Sue of the Art Barn at Morning Glory Farm (yet again--she did this for the class in the fall as well) for donating her professional time to share her chickens, goat, knowledge, and enthusiasm with the students (www.theartbarn.com). Thank you also to our other guests today: Alan Mothner, the executive director of the Dunwoody Nature Center, and Angela Minyard, one of the founders and a board member of the Dunwoody Community Garden. Big thanks, as always, to Ann Dovanquy for her volunteer help with the students, and bravo to Coach Burdette and the kids. Their little urban farm is growing beautifully.

Next week is the last week of this year-long pilot project and the "Goals" chalk board will be blank when the kids come running down the hill. The students will decide what they need to do to finish what they have created. FYI, the public will be invited to "give and take" there this summer--give a few minutes to water or tend, and take what's ready for harvest. I'll try to donate whatever is available on Wednesdays to the food pantry. It is my hope the students and their families will come by when they can to see the fruits of their labor.

At least six students came up to me personally and told me that they were starting or have started home gardens, and at least one student's family now has a plot at the community garden. I'd like to think we all helped to plant a seed this year in our children--a seed of knowledge, curiosity, and belief that they are necessary. Let's see what grows.

One Stitch, One Step, at a Time

2012-05-06T07:04:00.001-04:00

One, two, three, four, five . . . sixteen. That's how many steps there are in the staircase in my house. I've counted them a million times, in the dark of night, while carrying a sick baby or sneaking down to hang the toilet paper that we drape across doorways on birthdays so the birthday person can "break through" to a new year. I have heard the pitter patter of tiny feet and the soft tip-toe of a teen's late-night return on them.

One, two, three, four, five . . . sixteen. That's how many years have passed since I first stood in that entrance way, before this house was even finished being built, that day when my husband and I had all but decided we'd move back to New York but "let's just look at this house first." I had this heart-stopping moment as the sun streamed in that one day my daughter, who was close to a year old at the time, would walk down those stairs in her prom gown.

One, two, three, four, five . . . sixteen. Those years have passed. That moment came. She did. Last night. In a dress she designed and made herself, with the help of my mother, with whom she has been sewing for years, ever since 9/11/01, in fact, when my mother moved down to the metro-Atlanta area from New York and they started having "sewing camp" together each summer.

Over the years, they've made doll and bear dresses, and lots and lots of clothes. Those handkerchief skirts that she gave to her friends for birthdays. That asymmetrical skirt she designed. Shirts and dresses and let's not forget that batik stage that resulted from an end-of-year hands-on social studies lesson a brilliant middle school teacher gave, in which my mother wasn't even involved (see Never Underestimate the Power of Tie-Dye on page 103 in my book, plus you may enjoy When Necessity and Desire Collide.)

My daughter never mentioned any other possibility than that she would make her own dress. And then, she arranged the time with her grandmother to discuss her plans, shop for fabric, create the pattern, and make it happen. I popped in last week as my daughter stood on my mother's coffee table so that my mother could pin the dress to hem it. The light streamed in, like that time when I first saw my house, and I saw my mother's hands, looking more like my grandmother's hands each day (as are mine, if you want to know the truth), struggling at times to grasp the pins.

My mother hemmed the dress and gave it to me a couple of days later, when she and I toured a "green" cemetery for a story on which I'm working. She told me, "It went well, but it took me three hours to blind-stitch, because of my arthritis. I had to keep stopping to give my hands a break."

One, two, three, four, five . . . sixteen. In just this last year alone, the girl in the chartreuse driving shoes* has become the young woman in the emerald green prom dress. My mother has beat cancer, yet again, and she has almost completely recovered from that car accident that almost killed her a few years ago.

And we have made it down those stairs, one stitch in the fabric of life at a time.

* See Teen Learning to Drive. Mom Learning to Meditate on page 220 in my book.

The Bathroom as Metaphor

2012-04-29T06:33:00.002-04:00

So, there are lots of challenges at my daughter's high school, not unlike many others nationwide as budgets have been cut and administrators are challenged to do more with less. I don't know the whole story as to what's been happening this year (a 360 review of things is coming out soon), but I do know one thing that appears to have been cut that should never be cut. Dignity. And the most-used main bathroom right off the school's lobby serves as a metaphor.

The student body somehow lost the "privilege" of a door. Then, the mirrors. Finding paper towels with which to dry your hands (after washing them in the faucet that never stops)? Good luck. The worse the bathroom looked, the worse it became. Litter on the floor. Toilets a mess. Just down-right disgusting. Day in, day out. I think it had become one of those realities where people were just starting to take for granted, as in, "yeah, the bathrooms are gross."

It upset me, but my daughter didn't want me to get involved. Yet going to her school for arts performances meant that mothers, grandmothers, and guests from outside the community (especially because the arts performances are so excellent) were using that bathroom, and it was never, ever clean. And it hit me every time I was there that the downward cycle was certainly not changing behavior; rather, it was just making people even more careless. I don't know how you were raised, but for me, when company is coming, you clean the bathroom! And when older people are coming, you work extra hard to be sure they are comfortable. There had to be a better way.

And so, yesterday, before attending another performance, to which my mother and her fellow-senior friends were coming, I kept thinking of the bathroom and how poorly it reflected on the school. In fact, I had just gotten off the phone with a friend of mine who's daughter was thinking about applying to the schools' joint magnet program (science/math and the arts--the only one in the state--a graduate of this school's magnet program is currently the lead in War Horse on Broadway) and I had ended the conversation with saying, "I don't know if I can recommend you do this right now--the bathroom seems like a metaphor to me, and I really don't know what's going on in the bigger picture that has led to this." (This after having written a glowing review of the school a few months earlier.)

U.S. Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg said in an interview years ago that she preferred to not be a deconstructionist but rather a reconstructionist, where instead of just tearing something bad down, she builds something good. My husband and I refer to this quote often, and sure enough, I came downstairs after finishing the phone call with my friend, and I told him (regarding going to last evening's performance), "I'll meet you there. I'm going over early to tidy up the bathroom." I had a hunch that it wouldn't take much to make a difference. I've learned it never does.

I grabbed a plastic water bottle that was laying around and cut it in half, filled it with herbs and flowers and tied it with a ribbon. I drove over to the school, slipped into the bathroom with my secret bag of GreenWorks products (non-toxic and sweet smelling--here's my post about my interview with the brand manager when this product line was released a few years ago). And, you wanna' know what? It took me about five minutes. I sprayed. I picked up litter. I put the vase of herbs and flowers over the sink (but no, I couldn't stop the faucet from running). It looked pretty. Welcoming.

The second my mother arrived, she said, "Excuse me. I have to stop in the ladies room." And I smiled to myself. I didn't say a word about it, and didn't intend to. But then at intermission, I saw a line of women in the bathroom--sisters, mothers, grandmothers, friends. And it looked pretty in there, and I felt good. I'd even say I felt proud. I mean, just look at that floor! It did not look like that before. I know--ridiculous--but, really, is it? Isn't it always the little things? Isn't there some thing that's bothering you that you can actually change through some simple action today? Isn't the bathroom just a metaphor?

(You may enjoy this post, Will I Lose My Dignity? which includes the lyrics from one of my favorite songs ever, from the Broadway play Rent.)

So, I woke up this morning wondering. Would a simple recycled water bottle of "pretty" be enough to stop the downward spiral? Would it say, "You're worth this" to some teens who may not hear that in their lives otherwise, or who may have not learned that you pick up after yourselves, that beauty is not a luxury? Would it raise the bar of expectations, and create a ripple effect of positive action? Would it make people think twice about making or contributing to a mess? Would it help the kids "earn back" their door and mirror?

What do you think? Is it worth trying? Do I drive over there each week and leave a little gift of dignity?

I'll have to ask my daughter.

(P.S. The performance by this extraordinarily talented group of young performing artists was, once again, excellent, and yes, I continue to feel this school was the right choice for my daughter.)

The Funny Farm, Einstein, and Shoulders to Stand On

2012-04-22T07:17:00.000-04:00

I stood on a stage behind a fake tree as a six-year-old in 1970, the year of the very first Earth Day, and said my one and only line: "Please prop up my branch because it is about to break."

So many years have passed since then, and so, so many things have broken on our earth since then. Truly, it's shocking. I think of this when I meet people like Duane Marcus of The Funny Farm, whom I visited recently, who was slugging it away back then trying to make a difference, and still is, day in, day out. What have we accomplished in all this time? Anything? Or are we merely sticking fingers in the dike, so to speak, to plug a hole or two while new ones eliminate our small, positive gains?

I don't know. I can't care. All I can do is all I can do for today. All I can do is be a model for my children, and attempt to build a bridge to their future in a changing world. All I can do is be here with this earth, and these people, and this moment, and try to be kind.

* I accept that I live at a particular time in history. And that, like Einstein (I just finished reading Walter Isaacson's book of that name), whose life and particular time in history were so extraordinarily intertwined, so is mine. And yours.

* I accept that I live in a particular part of a particular country.

* I accept the limits of a human lifetime, and the fact that our purpose in life will not necessary be evident within that short timeframe.

* I commit to a joy-based journey.

* I commit to compassion, for others and for myself.

* I commit to treating creation in all its forms with dignity.

* I commit to telling the stories that I feel need telling, as I hear and heed my calling to bear witness and to be a small stone in the pond.

I stand on the shoulders of Duane and all the others who started on this path before me (including Einstein, who stood in awe of nature), and I stand firm for the next generation so they can stand on my shoulders as well. (See I Stand On Your Shoulders on page 179 in my book, Food for My Daughters.)

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. --Albert Einstein

Thank you all for what you do, or try to do, no matter how long you've been on this journey. Let's keep looking deep into nature together.

And that's it. Earth Day 2012. That's it. It's just as simple as that.

We plod on.

17 New Orchards Coming Soon Across The United States (and How You Can Help from the Comfort of Your Home)

2012-04-18T07:34:00.008-04:00

This is not one of my pomegranate trees, of which I put in two last year. This is one at the home of someone in my city from which my older daughter and I picked (with permission) last year because by the time my trees would bear fruit, she'd be off at college, and I wanted us to have this memory.

However, my pomegranate trees are dead as door nails (after what appeared to be a very healthy year last year). I'm not drawing any conclusions just yet (my friends who got the same type of trees at the same time say theirs are doing fine), but the only difference between my dead pomegranate trees and the rest of my very abundant garden is that the trees are located in the flow of runoff water from the neighbors, as I'm downhill from about five houses.

I really want fruit. Fruit is packed with nutrients, costs a fortune to buy organically, and adds a lot of weight when I'm calculating the "ton for hunger" I help donate to those in need and that I grow for my family.

Currently, I have a fig tree and some berry bushes, and I plant melons each summer, but that's it. I also have one of the smaller plots in our city (with the exception of the 50% of my city's residents who live in apartments), so there is not much room for more trees, and now that the one spot I had identified may be unusable, that pretty much takes care of that (although I'm still holding hope for espaliered apple trees, once I figure out how to do that!). The fact that one pear tree in my city yielded 567 pounds, harvested in about an hour and donated to the local food pantry last August, does haunt me a little (and, by the way, the post I wrote about that is one of the five most-read posts out of almost 800 on FoodShed Planet in almost six years).

And so, I like the idea of "public produce." (The book, Public Produce, is the best I've read on this topic--it overcomes every common objection to edible public landscaping you can imagine). There are cities nationwide and around the globe that are embracing the idea of planting edible landscaping, including fruit trees (or, who never stopped). Schools, community gardens, and city halls (including Atlanta's) are getting into this as well. The big leader in the Transition Town movement, Totnes, is totally maximizing the idea of public produce, as are many others.

Well, things are about to change for 17 communities soon in the Communities Take Root contest. There's nothing organic about Edy's Fruit Bars (I'd recommend choosing flavors not on the Dirty Dozen list--I would try the ones with coconut, pineapple, and mango) and I'm not such a fan of the "you have to vote daily" marketing schemes that masquerade as grants, BUT I do love the idea of free orchards going in all over our country as a result, and Edy's is the one sponsoring this promotion. Everywhere from the City of Huntsville, Alabama (home of Space Camp), to the Clarkston Community Center in one of the most diverse square miles in America with refugees of war from more than 30 countries, to churches, middle schools, conservancies, food banks, and more, are in the running (the groups listed passed the first round already). Many of the groups work to eradicate hunger in their communities. Something like 17 orchards will be awarded, five or so at a time based on top votes starting at the end of May and going through the summer.

The community garden I helped start as part of my journey toward increased resiliency is one of these finalists. This garden was vandalized a few weeks ago (lots of reckless damage, including food for the food pantry destroyed, but the saddest visual was the broken blue bird eggs). The vandals were arrested yesterday--five teens, four of whom live right in our community. The hope is that they will be sentenced to community service work at the community garden. My personal hope is that they will help plant the orchard awarded through the Edy's contest. Gardens change lives, especially for teens-at-risk. The recent article I wrote for the Juvenile Justice Information Exchange, ever so coincidentally, is all about this. If you'd like to help see "how the story ends" (or a new phase of these kids' lives begins), please vote for the Dunwoody Community Garden (click Georgia and you'll see it). Or at least vote for a garden near you (oh, and as a good marketing measure, you get to vote every day, AND you get a $1 coupon from Edy's each time you do so). (Want to start a community garden on public land near you? See here for tips.)

Perhaps these efforts will be more fruitful than my pomegranate trees.

After Mr. Stripey Goes In, the Hammock Calls

2012-04-15T07:07:00.021-04:00

The "spring is heeeeeere" bird is chirping all day now, not just in the morning, and I hear it outside the open screen door as the late-day sun streams in. Spring is heeeeere. Spring is heeeeere (see page 2 in my book, Food for My Daughters).

"Yes, yes, I know!" I say out loud, seeing the lady-bug-laden hairy vetch draping everywhere outside, the sage in full bloom, and my beloved lamb's quarters (a sign of summer) already popping up here, there, and everywhere.

I wait for boiling water to cool in the Mama Bread I'm making before adding the yeast (at the end of step 7, for anyone making it at home), and I glance at brochures I picked up at the Global Humanitarian Summit at Emory University that afternoon--so many good things happening at the hands of so many people who simply saw a need and filled it (medical supplies to Haiti, leftover paint to people in huts in developing countries, prosthetic devices to those in need, the Peace Corps--can I apply for that someday still?). The basil planters for the bottle garden fundraising project line almost half the kitchen table and I look sideways at them, feeling hopeful that they will help fund the food pantry garden when they are given out as gifts with donations soon.

I mix. I knead. I think. I peer outside and see my nice neat rows from February succumbing to nature, my nature, starting to twist and turn and lose their form as I plant outside the lines, potato plants everywhere, and as I let mint and lemon balm wander, crushing gently beneath my feet, emitting their essence as I wander as well. The garden resembles the gardener, and mine, once again, resembles me, even down to the randomly-arranged trellises I create.

I see the pile of college brochures on a chair and think of how my older daughter (the one who had the chartreuse driving shoes) notices the ones that feature farms and real food and sustainability, how she points it out to me. She told me recently that she used to feel that sustainability was her mother's thing, but that now she realizes it's as big a part of her as well. I remember all the signs of sustainability I saw walking across Emory's campus earlier that day, and although my daughter is not looking at schools in the southeastern United States, I know she would have noticed all these things as well.

I see a cut rose stem from my rose bush in a bottle I use as a vase, and I recall my favorite moment from the food pantry this week, the moment about which I've yet to tell anyone:

* I had harvested 15 pounds from my home garden (where, by the way, this week was when the amount of food harvested from my home garden in 2012 exceeds my annual garden budget, so everything from this week on is "profit") and piled it all in a big, red bucket on the front seat of my car.

* At the last minute, I cut an armful of roses from my bush, which I planted just last year.

* I pulled up to the food pantry garden and took it out, brought it over and started to share.

* A man walked up to me as I was handing out bags of lettuces and kale and collards, and I saw he was eyeing the roses.

* I handed him a long, abundant stem of them and he smiled and thanked me.

* I watched him walk away and hand the roses to a woman, most likely his wife.

* I saw her face light up, and I wondered how long, if ever, it had been since he could give a rose to his beloved.

So simple, that action. Such a thing we take for granted. We all just looked at each other. Roses. You don't think of bringing roses to the food pantry, do you? Well, I will never look at a rose the same way again. As Alice Waters wrote in one of my favorite books, "Beauty is not a luxury."

Gardens are not a luxury, either. I think of all the ways people who don't really need them can complicate them, and I realize that when I work with those in need (of not just food but knowledge and community), it's all very simple. The middle school near me has lost another year of having a school garden, although Coach Burdette's class is coming to the back field by the community garden every week and lives are changing (including mine) right before my eyes. I spend my limited volunteer time now with them, with the food pantry garden, and with the Fugees garden, which has yielded 100 heads of lettuces in just five weeks, enough for every student in the school to take some home and have some for lunch.

Heat is just about here full-time now, and I have indeed been seduced by Mr. Stripey (yep, my book again: page 37). Winter in this climate is the time for my flurry of new activity, not summer, and once Mr. Stripey goes in, I start slowing down, just focusing on the projects already happening where need is evident and help makes a difference.

With a few of my articles just published (the one about the jail gardens, and then two in the May/June issue of Urban Farm magazine on pages 5 and 10), I catch my breath for the first time in months, and I answer the call of the hammock.

Completely Natural Bursts of Creation

2012-04-08T07:31:00.018-04:00

No, we were not coloring Easter eggs (although don't miss "The Pretty One" on page 39 in my book, if you want an Easter egg story). This spontaneous combustion of paint happened after a casual, spur-of-the-moment visit to the High Museum of Art in Atlanta yesterday, where we spent most of our time not in the excellent Picasso-to-Warhol exhibit but on the self-taught-artist floor, where an old man in the mountains had whittled an entire congregation, a child of former slaves had made a sculpture out of chewing gum, and an entire room (and more) is dedicated to the relics from a preacher's front lawn, which was known as Paradise Garden.

It had been an artsy Spring Break, starting down in Delray Beach, Florida, which is one of my favorite places in the world for many reasons (such as family being there, and that gorgeous, endless beach and ocean), but especially because of the robust, walkable, local-arts-promoting nature of the place. We ambled into this gallery, met this curator/artist, and had what was one of the best experiences of the week.

I then proceeded to spend no less than six hours collecting everything from Spanish moss to seaweed, seashells to sand, with leaves, bark, flowers, and even a dead worm thrown in. I then whipped out my microscope (everyone brings one of those on Spring Break, right?), popped my specimens under the lens, took photographs of the microscopic views, and created this "foodshed planets" postcard of Florida. Sort of weird, yes, I agree, but I couldn't help myself. A simple 4x magnification produced an entirely new and beautiful world. "What else is there right in front of my eyes?" I wondered many times.

And so, of course, I almost squealed at the High Museum yesterday when I saw this painting by a former graffiti artist from Jersey City named KAWS, and the Renzio Piano-designed building's skylights letting the gorgeous day pour in. "They're like my foodshed planets!" I think I may have even said out loud. I was reminded of one of my old posts, about children and creativity and how it all adds up in surprising ways: "If You Can Imagine It, You Can Achieve It." I have no idea where I'm going with my foodshed planets (although they have already morphed into the following collage), and you know what? It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I let this run full circle, however nature intends it.

During this whole week (and for weeks prior), I've been reading Einstein, by Walter Isaacson (who also wrote Steve Jobs, a book I absolutely adored). On this "Holy Week" weekend, with Passover and Easter abutting, I can't stop thinking of what Einstein said about God: "Try and penetrate with our limited means the secrets of nature and you will find that, behind all the discernible concatenations, there remains something subtle, intangible and inexplicable. Veneration for this force beyond anything that we can comprehend is my religion." --Albert Einstein

I truly believe that one of the secrets of nature and intentions of whatever God or higher power there may be is that artistic expression in any of its many forms is a primal, critical, and necessary aspect of human beings.

And so, yesterday afternoon, after returning from the museum, as the sun streamed across our backyard garden and in the kitchen window, my younger daughter went outside with paints and canvases, and I stood by the sink with the bottle gardens, and these bursts of creation happened, which seemed, of course, completely natural.

"Lady of the Lettuce," and Why Fun Matters

2012-03-31T06:42:00.023-04:00

It just kinda' happened. The same couple of volunteers showed up for the food pantry harvest at the community garden and there was so much to pick--five wheelbarrows full--and the burden of a burgeoning season of endless work felt heavy.

I don't quite remember when "how about you get naked and lie down and we cover you with lettuce?" got suggested, but it did, and the harvest leader, Tracy Gilchrist, did, and I took this picture. And we laughed so darn hard our sides were splitting. Then we, three adult women, worried about "getting in trouble," and not even because she was naked in a public park, which she actually wasn't, but because that's what seems to keep happening lately, and Tracy told me a story:

"When I was a child, my best friend and I collected three buckets full of frogs. We decided to hide them so we wouldn't lose them, and for some reason decided it was a good idea to do this under my friend's mother's bed. Well . . ." (and this is when her whole face lit up and the giggling from deep inside her body started) "the next day, my mother got a phone call and I got dragged over to my friend's house and there were frogs everywhere." (and this is about when Tracy started howling with laughter) "And, you know what, Pattie? Fifty eight years later and I'm still laughing about it!"

So, what do you think happened later the day of the Lady of the Lettuce photo?

We went to the food pantry (across the street from the park where the community garden is, and where we created another garden just for the food pantry clients), as usual, and we were still laughing. And that laughter became contagious. And many more of the food pantry clients than usual came over to the garden and not only took the food we offered, but dug and planted and watered, and even took tomato and pepper transplants home to start their own gardens. A few women in particular were spraying each other with the water and laughing, and then spraying us, all in good fun. Kids got involved.

And while I was off to the side, putting hay around the potato plants that are growing like mad (from the potatoes that Whole Foods was going to compost), all I could hear was laughter. Laughter, laughter, laughter. And I realized it was no longer "them" and "us." It was just people having fun, connecting, sharing one of the most basic of human emotions. Joy.

And our little ad-hoc team of volunteers who have been "trusting the journey" at the food pantry garden have been laughing ever since. In fact, we're thinking about shooting a "seasonally-appropriate" photo like Lady of the Lettuce each month, and then maybe even making a calendar (such as in the 2003 movie, Calendar Girls, which was based on a true story) called The Naked Truth About Hunger and selling it to raise money for food pantry gardens. And, would you believe it, my friend Betty, Global Blogging Ambassador for Heifer International, likes the idea so much she volunteered to shoot the photos. We're going to shoot the next one just as soon as she gets home from China. (Who wants to be April?!)

I know laughter increases endorphins, dopamine, and oxygen. You know what else I know? Fun matters.

A Tender Transplant from Generation to Generation

2012-03-29T06:32:00.010-04:00

"When do you sleep?" I asked this 82-year-old man, who was demonstrating his invention of a "goat-mower" to me, where pygmy goats push their heads through a PVC pipe-and-mesh contraption, pulling it along to "mow" a row of crimson clover as they eat it.

His face exploded in smile, and he replied, "Oh, Pattie, I haven't slept in 30 years!"

Rod Pittman, who became my friend when we started a community garden together almost three years ago, was finally sharing with me the farm where he pours his passion, named The Veggie Patch and owned by Dr. Bouchard of Emory University. He had already shown me the greenhouse busting with tomato plants already two years old, planted in pots with little sprinklers buried in volcanic rock, and the pheromones that control pests organically thanks to his professional training as an entomologist (his low-slung cowboy jeans, a reminder of his former bronco-riding days in Oklahoma long ago, hold a phone that could ring at any time and require his hopping a plane to California or around the world, where he consults on numerous farms about organic pest management practices and transition to organic).

He told me how tilapia tanks would soon run down the length of this building, and his plans for expansion of this farm and how he would implement some of his test projects that have proven to be successful. He whipped me on a golf cart around the 600-acres of this 3-year-old USDA Certified Organic farm a litter-bug's throw from 1-85 an hour or so from Atlanta, speeding past the handful of smaller hoop houses, over ridges and through mud puddles to get to the fields, 10 acres here, a few acres there, a lone emu coming up for a chin scratch, cows calfing on the side of a hill, as he jumped out and opened deer fences or expertly sliced the base of a bok choy, talking the whole time about his plans. Red and green lettuces glistened in the morning sun, destined for the regional Whole Foods distribution center just 20 miles away.

In addition to Whole Foods, this farm provides more than 30 types of vegetables to Fresh Market, numerous farmers markets, an online local-farm site, and Emory University's farm-to-fork cafeteria program. Rod makes the 140-mile round-trip drive here seven days a week from his home in metro-Atlanta's Dunwoody, GA, which he shares with his wife, Jerrie, and where he moved from California just three years ago to be closer to his son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter.

I honestly don't know if he knows he's 82.

But he is.

***

A man almost fifty years younger than Rod came here two days earlier. He is a friend of mine, too. Already at 36 years old a renowned name in organic and biodynamic farming, Daron "Farmer D" Joffe has started farms and gardens at prisons and hospitals, at schools and the spa of Virgin Atlantic's Richard Branson, at boys' homes and the home of eco-living expert Laura Turner Seydel (the daughter of Ted Turner). He sells branded compost made from the green waste of Whole Foods (including, no doubt, Rod's vegetables) throughout the southeast region of the United States, he serves as a board member of Georgia Organics, and he runs a retail shop named Farmer D Organics in a space he shares with his parents' eco-car wash, where now crops grow in the median strip and the drive-through has been converted to a wood shop turning out everything from sustainably-harvested cedar raised beds to portable backyard chicken coops. He's married to the founder of the eco-conscious company To-Go Ware, and they are about to become parents. Oh, and did I mention that he is prominently featured in Williams Sonoma's new Agrarian line of products?

Farmer D came here to the Veggie Patch farm to hand-deliver to Rod an order for 17,000 transplants that will find their way to dozens of school gardens Farmer D has helped start in metro-Atlanta, and to stock the shelves at his retail store. To put it more simply--this 82-year-old man will grow the plants for this 36-year-old man that will go into the hands of children. And in that transplant of expertise and energy, and in that transplant of knowledge and passion, and in that transplant from one generation to the next to the next, you will find an effort to plug a gaping hole that has been in our society for not one but two generations, in a country where the average age of farmers is 54.

This is a story I want to write in much more detail.

Going to the Hollers of Appalachia with Betty

2012-03-28T06:42:00.008-04:00

So, my friend Betty Londergan is traipsing around the world right now on a year-long journey as the Global Blogging Ambassador for Heifer International. Heifer gets her there, back and around, but every single minute of Betty's time and all her professional writing and photography services are being donated. I get a few email exchanges here and there with Betty, but mostly I joined her growing fan base that's devouring her brilliant blog posts from her unique vantage point. She has been to Guatamala and Haiti already and is currently in Peru. Betty is funny, smart, extraordinarily talented, and just plain old real. There's nothing "precious" or fragile about her. And that comes through, not only in her call-it-as-I-see-it writing but also in her striking photography.

Betty evokes things in people. That I knew, because she has been evoking things in me ever since I met her when she did a blog post about the community garden I helped start when she was giving away $100 a day all year a couple of years ago (from an inheritance left by her father) and writing about it (while also serving as First Lady of Oglethorpe University). That's also when she wrote about Heifer and forged the relationship that has her bearing witness right now to the extraordinary good that organization does in providing hope that pays things forward for communities in need.

But let's talk specifically about Betty's photos a moment. You see, taking photos of people with their knowledge creates a relationship with them, and when you see the photos, you see as much about the photographer as you do about the subjects. They are reacting to her. And what I see in Betty's photos, over and over again, is a consistent look of strength and pride and dignity. And in that look, I see Betty.

So when Betty asked me to join her on one of her trips, well, you'd think I would have jumped at the chance. But Betty's daughter is away at college, and my daughters aren't at that stage yet. Getting away is not so easy for me, and leaving the country, although traveling and writing like Betty is doing is my future plan, currently fills me with a lump of dread in my heart. I'm not ready. It's not time yet for me. So when the Appalachia trip got mentioned, well, goodness, that's as we say, doable.

Heifer recently kicked off two projects in the United States intended to provide a lifeline to some of the deepest poverty in our country--one in the Arkansas Delta and the other in the High Country of Appalachia. According to Jeffrey Scott, the head of the Appalachia project (whom I interviewed at length recently), Heifer is currently building a coalition of stakeholders in five counties, conducting asset mapping, and determining the best way to increase wealth creation. An extraordinary plan determined by the community itself is emerging to maximize strengths, fill gaps, and build a closed-loop vibrant local economy around food that both increases and diversifies household income, provides access to healthy and nutritious food, and increases social equity. This "hub and spoke" system includes choosing 10 specific products on which to focus, securing anchors (such as supermarkets, Appalachian State University, and churches) with regular access to end-users as points-of-sale, building half-acre greenhouses in all five counties and hoop houses right where people live, and providing the entrepreneurial support, technical assistance, and access to capital to make all parts of this sustainable agriculture project successful.

According to Mapquest, it is five hours and ten minutes from my home to Boone, North Carolina, the epicenter of this effort (a little bit better than the 57 days to Tasmania, yes?). Jeffrey says, "I've traveled internationally, and I've never seen such poverty as here in the hollers." (Holler: As a noun, holler has the specific meaning in the Appalachians of "a small valley between mountains.") There's much, much more to write. And I am going to write about it in detail after seeing it firsthand, in person, in July. With Betty. With pride, strength, and dignity.

And So It Goes. And So It Grows. And It All Matters.

2012-03-25T06:05:00.021-04:00

Here's a picture I took of my friend, Ed Bruske, of The Slow Cook, in July 2010, in his front-yard garden a mile or so from the White House. Since then, Ed sold his home. The developer turned it into condos. The developer destroyed the garden, as is his right (here's Ed's story about it). After both Ed and I asked him, the developer said he'd add some garden plots for residents. Here's where it's at now. And so it goes.

This happens to all of us involved in this resiliency-stuff, a moment when we stand there and see all our work get literally obliterated. And then, our hearts breaking, we have to come to terms with it. And it usually goes something like this:

Does anything I do even matter? (The wallowing period follows, which may take years, or seconds, depending on where you're at.) (And then) Well . . . it mattered while it happened. It mattered to people who saw and with whom I shared. It mattered to my children. It mattered because it helped me become who I am and who I am yet to be, and for what I am yet to do. It mattered because I believe it was the right thing to do. It mattered to our collective air, water, and land, even if it was just for a limited time. It mattered to my Higher Power, perhaps. It mattered in my heart. It mattered in ways I simply do not know.

And frankly, that's all we've got. (Thank you, Ed, for all you did and all you tried to do. It mattered.)

I was talking with one of the people with whom I started our community garden and we were wondering about it long-term, a thought direction that causes instant stress. "Wait--let's think this through. What's the worst that could happen?" I finally asked her. "If it doesn't last, the structures get removed. The plants die out. And someone tosses wildflower seeds (or, cringe, paves paradise to put up a parking lot). And the people who have been involved and our collective knowledge will be better because it existed. It's great when things endure, but that's not the only 'great' there is. Now is great, too."

And so, for now, I plant. I grow. I try to make a difference for today. I try to keep things simple, and joy-based. I try to let the world's abundance work through me. I try to learn patience and tolerance. I try to understand that if the market or the masses or a simple man or woman on a mission cannot help something sustain, then it's okay to let it go. I try to practice detachment, impermanence, and not get stuck on things. I try to live peacefully. I try to be kind. I try.

I asked my friends Bob and David to meet me at the food pantry garden early yesterday morning so we could mulch what has emerged pretty naturally as an expansion area. I went earlier than our planned work time in order to get set up and to make an extra run for another wheelbarrow, yet when I pulled up, they were both there hard at work already, which made me smile. That's what Steve Jobs would call an "A" team (see Why Steve Jobs Is Now My Constant Companion).

I joined them in what can only be called a ballet (didn't know you were dancers, did you, guys?)--the three of us filled wheelbarrows and raked and spread mulch and moved about seamlessly, simply sensing each others' presence, hearing the music of our collective effort, and knowing where we were each needed next. And we got it done. No master plan. No meetings. No money.

What will be in that space has yet to be determined. Perhaps a picnic table. Berry bushes. Herbs. Perhaps something completely unexpected. We don't know the plan. It will reveal itself. In the meantime, there is no denying, at least to me, that what happened yesterday mattered, when two friends of mine who were until recently strangers worked together to do something good.

And when I came home, I noticed the roses are about to bloom.

And so it grows.

"Do You Think That You Can Stop Doing That Which God Wants You To Do?"

2012-03-24T06:32:00.022-04:00

I wasn't planning on being there. My younger daughter was supposed to come home from an after-school commitment with a neighbor, but a phone call indicating she needed to stay a few hours later started a ripple effect in my afternoon. I'd bring her a sandwich, I told her. I called the mom who was originally bringing her home to tell her that she'd be staying later. That led to me offering to bring her daughter to the high school (where her family was attending an event) when I went by with the sandwich, as her daughter didn't need to stay later. That led to me having weird little pockets of time to kill rather than coming home in between since traffic at that time of day is so bad in my city. That led to a stop at the community garden, some twirling around in a field of clover at the middle school, and an unexpected visit to the food pantry garden to water and marvel at the potato plants in the Plant a Row we started last fall and in which we didn't expect to grow anything but cover crops just yet, but are.

That led to me meeting Anthony Delgado. I was crouched over taking photos, the sun setting on what had been a beautiful day, when an SUV pulled up slowly and a man I had never met said to me, "Are they all gone?" indicating the church employees. He said he had fresh food to deliver for the next day's food pantry. I realized then who this man was. I had heard about him, how he picked up unsellable but still good food from supermarkets and delivered it to people in need all over metro-Atlanta, every day of the week. He had been featured on CNN and elsewhere, including on my friend's blog here.

We talked. This guy is an "aura" person, one of those people whose positive energy you feel simply by their presence (and the photo I took of him in his car makes me feel like a "light" is literally emanating from his heart). I asked if I could interview him in the morning, and our phone conversation then was cut short when we agreed I would hop in the car and come over to see his operation. Two freezers full of meat and a fridge full of every type of food imaginable represented that morning's bounty that would be gone by the end of the day so the next day's food could fit.

I saw Anthony's family photo, the one with his single-parent mom and all his siblings (11 of them) from years ago when they did not allow him to be in it. Anthony was the black sheep of the family, the one who "went bad." After enlisting with the U.S. Marines and serving in Vietnam, he fell into drugs and crime, spent five years in prison, and eventually found himself homeless eight years ago. As he tells it, an elderly couple that he saw but no one else saw (angels?) told him to go to the VA Hospital, and he believes his life was saved that night.

One day he saw some bread going to waste, asked if he could have it, and gave it away to those in need. He didn't know he was starting an outreach program then, and in fact, when on a future occasion he was asked if he was the guy who was giving away food, he almost said no until someone else answered for him, "Yes."

And this is the part of the story where Anthony changed not just his life, but mine (in his telling of it to me all these years later). He told me when I saw him that first night how he asked himself this question, "Do you think that you can stop doing that which God wants you to do?"

I have been questioning things lately--it's a big time of transition in my life and many things are up for re-evaluation, including my writing career (considering that my big client bit the dust due to this challenging economy) and my garden-starting efforts (understanding that "how to keeping gardens going" is hard work long-term and I'm not the person for that, although I do stay involved with every single garden I help start for one-two years).

"Do you think that you can stop doing that which God wants you to do?"

My eyes got a little watery when Anthony said this. I had just come from the middle school, where that darn empty field just eats at me every time I see it, and where I absolutely do not want to be involved starting a garden. What's more, I have been thinking about going back to a corporate job again, wearing my little suits again, yet everything about that feels wrong, at least now.

His question hung in the air. "Do you think that you can stop doing that which God wants you to do?"

I composed myself.

"I wasn't planning on being here right now," I told Anthony as I leaned on the edge of his car.

He choked up, literally touching his neck as it happened, and replied, "I wasn't either."

I asked Anthony for what advice he gives to others, and he replied: "Ask yourself what you are perfecting in your life, and realize that that is what God wants you to do. I consider myself to be just a tool. I'm just a tool through which He works. You think I want to do this, getting up at 4 AM every day and delivering food all over the place? I don't want to do this. I have to do this."

If you'd like to find out more about Anthony and his 501(c)3 non-profit organization, see My Brother's Keepers here. After you watch the video where Anthony starts his van with a set of pliers, you need to know this--the head of a trucking company saw that video and provided Anthony with a new van as a result. Also, the owner of a major car dealership serves as his mentor and board member now. Good things keep happening.

Anthony trusts the journey.

As do I.

Bolting, The Exciting Return of Two Impatient Men, Another Year of Nothing, and An Existential Question

2012-03-18T07:30:00.034-04:00

And, so, yes, heat has rolled into town with a vengeance, more so than last year, already in the 80s (the high 20s in Celsius) and it's not even officially spring, never mind summer. And, yes, the brassicas are bolting, their flowers pretty and buds sweet-tasting, and I cut bowls of them every night. We're eating lettuces like mad as well, picking them still dewy in the dark of morning to pack in lunch boxes, knowing when they bolt they'll be bitter instead.

The crimson clover is blooming, and I'm wearing flip flops and tank tops again, and the mint is big enough to candy again, and I'm eyeing the hammock. I've even alerted my friend Bob that, you know, I'm a "winter garden creator" and now with the Fugees and other new gardens behind me, I'm not really looking to get heavily involved beyond my home garden, family, and work (knocked out a few articles this week, and am loving being Better World Books' very first national Change Agent, by the way).

Except for the jail gardens, of course. They should be all throughout my state. Yes. I'm convinced of this, after finishing my jail garden article (I'll link to it when it's published). Quick summary of what I'm finding:

Vegetable gardens are emerging as THE best thing YET for kids-at-risk and both youth and adult offenders. Recidivism rates drop from 65 percent to 10-20 percent for adults who participate (Rikers Islands, San Quentin, the works), and the youth are EATING it up, literally and figuratively. What's more, the taxpayer savings are completely quantifiable (money saved in reduced sentences and reduced repeat offenses plus many garden programs let youth "earn" money to pay restitution to their victims, and some reduce food service costs) so it's a win-win on all ends. My question: will we see a reduction in FIRST offenses in the future as a result of all the school gardens, and kids learning earlier that they are "necessary"? In addition to public health and education enhancers, I believe a real argument can be made that gardens are public safety tools.

I heard from Rashid, as he has interest in this. Bob is involved, of course. And may I remind you that these two people met almost a year ago and I felt the world shift beneath my feet? May I remind you of this ?

And speaking of school gardens, the middle school still doesn't have one, despite a high school student who received permission, raised the money and was apparently ready to go. I took this picture yet again of the space that has been screaming school garden for years, and my younger daughter said, "Why do you take those pictures, year after year after year? It is always the same, and it never changes." Precisely. (Here's a video of this exact location from 2009). Before that student had the funds in hand, we offered to put in a garden one Saturday this past fall for 600 dollars in supplies. A garden the size of the Fugees garden would have been there by that Monday. I suggested a "dress down day" (which happen frequently, and for which the kids pay $3 and it's donated to a cause) would raise the funds in a heartbeat. But no. Bureaucracy. And that is not where you will find me. And there does not appear to be a groundswell of shovel-ready people to make this happen, so que sera sera. What will be is another year of nothing. (Perhaps it's time for a revisit to Because Children Don't Wait. They Grow Up.)

But one class did return right across the street, this time to the back field about which I had been dreaming for a few years now. Just like the last class, they broke into a run as they went through the gate. See this quick 1-minute video.

The kids are cultivating two 40' rows in the back field beyond the community garden and are conducting three different growing experiments: no till, hugelkultur, and double dig, as well as figuring out irrigation solutions and deer-resistant vegetable choices. One boy said to me, "We need irrigation channels, you know." Another is researching what to plant. I told them this is real work that matters, and that I don't have the answers, that we'll need to figure them out together. Lesson plans? Nope. I don't use them. (see Life Has No Lesson Plan . . .)

The food pantry garden is expanding (pictured is a food pantry client helping plant lettuces this week). The community garden is exploding with new people and ideas, and Board of Directors 2.0 appears to be doing a bang-up job. While chatting with a new member there yesterday during a Go Green event, I was asked "Where are you?" meaning which bed was mine. But I don't have a bed there, and the question, frankly, felt bigger than that, broader, more existential.

"Where am I?" I pondered out loud (most likely leading the person who asked me to think to himself, "Great. My first day community gardening and I get to meet the nutball.").

Where am I? Where am I? I tossed around in my head and heart, the first of the season's bees (whatever season this is!) buzzing nearby.

"A little bit here, there, and everywhere," I finally responded.

Back home in my garden (where I'm spending far more time than I have the past couple of years while I had been helping create the other gardens and writing my book), I stood and looked at a bolting arugula plant. I nibbled its leaves, now sharper-tasting than before, and contemplated how much longer it had left before it was time to move on. And I may have even said out loud, "I get ya', kid. I know how you feel." And a breeze may have blown right about then. And the hammock may have even gently rocked.

Food Pantry, Bottle, and Jail Gardens; Better World Books; and the Paradigm of Abundance

2012-03-11T08:43:00.019-04:00

The "spring is heeeeere" bird is up early every day (which you may remember from the very first chapter of my book), proclaiming this clearly obvious news here in metro-Atlanta. Forsythias, cherry blossoms, pear trees (pictured is the pear tree from which we harvested 567 pounds of pears in an hour to donate--I've already asked permission to do that again this year), and daffodils have all bloomed, the first of the hairy vetch is flowering, and now, with Daylight Savings Time adding an hour of light at night, we'll be eating again in the backyard before long, surrounded by my little urban farm, from which I'm currently easily harvesting a fat colander of greens every day. My teen, who is researching colleges, is suddenly realizing that having access to this fresh, daily supply of healthy food actually matters, and is starting to notice which schools have farms and gardens, and which don't.

And so, eyeing the hammock and knowing that heat will roll in soon and the trees will leaf out and provide much needed shade, and a book and I will curl up and nap right there, I focus intently on bringing my current projects in for a landing, and deciding what my next steps will be.

1. Food Pantry Gardens. I was honored to speak at a big cathedral in Atlanta yesterday about the food pantry garden (along with the food pantry directors, Mary Louise and Kathy, who are two of my favorite people in the world). The workshop attendees are all interested in starting their own church-property gardens, and my hope is that I provided just a little bit of extra knowledge and inspiration to help them make that happen. A woman named Vilma came up to me at the end and said, "I want to start a garden, but I don't have the physical capability to do it. What should I do?" As she seemed computer-savvy, I suggested she start a blog and send it to me, and I'd send it out via social media and we'd see what happens. People fall from the sky, I told her. Resources appear. The world's energy conspires in your favor. Just start. Just take an action, any action, and let the beautiful flower of change unfurl.

2. Jail Gardens. The other presenter (along with the co-directors of the food pantry and me) was DeDe Harris from the jail garden I visited a couple of weeks ago. I am working on an article about jail gardens, and let me just tell you this: my findings are mind-blowing. Yes, yes, there are all the touchy-feely parts of gardening, but there are also hard facts about the cost-savings to taxpayers in reduced recidivism, shortened sentences, lower food service costs, and monetary value of donations to those in need in the community. This may be the biggest topic onto which I've stumbled yet. And someone with some particularly pertinent expertise and resources is interested in possibly exploring this a bit more with me. Stay tuned about this one.

3. The "Wine and Dine" Bottle Garden Project. The recycled wine bottle fundraising project for the food pantry garden is yielding some very interesting results so far. Vases are starting to come in from the artists. Pictured are some from an artists retreat created by members of the church where the food panty is located, and ones from my friend, Nancy Shevitz. I asked Steve Penley, on a lark, if he would paint some, and his wife said he would (I am not sure if Steve is aware of this yet!). My friend, Farmer Sue of the Art Barn of Morning Glory Farm, offered to paint some as well, so I cut, cut, cut yet more bottles this week. Home gardeners are being recruited now to fill the vases with herbs and flowers for the sale. When and where that will be, we don't yet know. Perhaps simply through social media, with a pickup hour or two at the church.

4. "My Own Bottle Garden" Passion Project. And so, from my trust-the-journey playbook of "one thing leads to another," this is how the bottle garden project is starting to morph in my life. My teen has volunteered me to make them with women at a homeless shelter, and this gets me thinking . . . (always dangerous).

5. Better World Books. I was recently selected to be a Change Agent with Better World Books, which is the largest online bookseller for good (and a certified B-Corp) that donates book-for-book for every book sold and supports literacy programs close to home and around the world (and never, ever, ever sends one single book to a landfill, where millions currently end up right now). It is currently rolling out its Drop Box Program beyond metro-Atlanta and Indianapolis to include Tampa, St. Pete, Sarasota, Orlando, Jacksonville, Ft. Lauderdale (Florida), Houston, Dallas, San Antonio, Austin (Texas), Raleigh-Durham (North Carolina), Cleveland, Cincinnati, and Columbus (Ohio). If you are within an hour radius of these cities, you really do need to see this.

I expect churches and schools to be lining up on waiting lists for these FREE high-quality, tamper-proof, sensor-monitored drop boxes before long. I love this company, I love what we are doing, I love that we can provide some passive income to support school and church gardens (or whatever your organization's passion projects are), and I'd love to help you get yours. I created this site to give you all the details you need. Contact me here. And congrats to Simpson Elementary in Peachtree Corners, Georgia (the newest city in the United States!) for adding a Better World Books Drop Box to its recycling efforts and planning a big Earth Week book drive around it. Smart!

And so, as Willy Wonka liked to say, "Yes. Good. Off we go!" And as my friend, Kathy, from the food pantry, likes to say, "You can choose to live in the paradigm of abundance."

I choose that.

Fugees Garden Details: Don't Make It Harder Than It Needs to Be

2012-03-06T20:08:00.042-05:00

Okay, so you want to do a garden like the Fugees garden, within the next month or two, but you're not quite sure how to do it? If I can't help inspire a few others to do this themselves, then I haven't done my job as one small stone in the pond. So, here goes. Here's what we used, and what we did. Let us know how your garden build-out goes! Oh, and by the way, that photo is a picture of our plan. Don't kill yourself master planning. A scribble works, too. Another serious heart-to-heart piece of advice? If people start annoying each other, you don't have the right team. Change it. (This actually matters.) Joy-based projects are downright easy when fueled by positive energy flow.

What You Need to Build a Garden Like the Fugees Garden

The Fugees garden consists of six 5' x 10' beds for 300 square feet of grow space, with the potential in Grow Zone 7B/8A (metro Atlanta straddles these two zones) to grow 2 pounds per square foot/600 pounds for a value of $3,000. It is serving as a pilot project for when they have a huge garden at their new larger school in a year or two. (By the way, the Fugees Academy is the only school in the United States that is exclusively for refugee children-of-war. Find out more here.)

With about 15 people helping (mostly the Fugees teens themselves), this took five hours (break in the middle for pizza--seriously, you need to do this: 4 large pies, at least). Be sure you have good wheelbarrows (at least 5, including 1 or better yet, 2, that are a bit smaller so younger or smaller people can help as well) and shovels of different sizes (for the same reason). Also, be sure your power drill is charged and you have the right drill bit. And don't forget a measuring tape, a level and pickaxes to get the beds even. (Hint: We like to stake and string the garden layout during a site survey prior to the build-out.)

Here are the rest of the supplies, and a few tips. Divide and conquer (when you have the right team, people do this naturally).

* 10 cubic yards of county compost (no sewage sludge or persistent herbicides--research your county compost before using it--the county compost in DeKalb County, GA is fine for organic growing) (my county's delivery fee is usually $75--your Keep America Beautiful chapter may have a way to wave any fees).

* 150 pounds of organic fertilizer (we used Farmer D Organics custom blend--he's a friend of mine, he's very generous, he does tons of good, and frankly, he helped change my life ten years ago, so I'm partial) @ $50 each 50-pound bag (ask for a community/school garden discount from your local supplier--we got some money shaved off this).

* 24 bags of cow manure (4 40-pound bags per bed) @ about 3 bucks a pop (or, better yet, get some free, local , fully composted horse manure--our garden build-out happened so fast we didn't have time to source this).

* a cubic yard of Farmer D Organics planting mix (we used this to top off the beds) Farmer D donated this, but it would have run about $150.

* 18 untreated pine boards, 10' x 10"x2" (6 of those need to be cut in half). These run about $10 each.

* 48 lags to secure the beds, called SPAX. They are lag screws that have built-in washers and are self tapping. They are treated for use outdoors: 3" long 1/4". They are greenish in color and are sold individually NOT in a box. They should run you about 30-35 cents a piece.

* 400 lettuce plants, which were donated by The Veggie Patch/Bouchard Farms (the indefatigable Rod Pittman) but would run you (non-organically at Home Depot) about $3.50 a 9-pack, so something like 140 bucks or so. (And, by the way, we just used the stakes from the site survey as trowels--no problem--one less thing to bring. Don't sweat details you don't need to sweat.) Verify what would be seasonally-appropriate crops where you live, when it's time for you to plant. Here, the summer crops start going in around April 15 (lettuces are a spring/fall crop here--we'll be able to get fast crop of them before tomatoes, peppers, basil, etc.).

* About 3 pounds of onions, which we got for $2.99 a pound at Buckles Hardware in Monroe, GA (patronize a local shop near you, if you can, as it keeps more money circulating in the local economy), so that's $10.

That's it. Build. Fill. Plant. Clean up. Take photos. Don't make it harder than it needs to be. As my friend, Bob, likes to say, it's just dirt.

Some Things Are Simply Meant To Be. The Fugees Academy Garden Was One of Them.

2012-03-06T13:53:00.003-05:00

I am still on a high about how terrific this experience was, from beginning to end (which took less than a week). And I'm still as sore as can be. My friend Bob wrote a great account of the build-out here, if you'd like to read it.

Thank you to all who helped and/or donated to make this happen. If you didn't get a chance (it happened so darn fast), please consider joining Team Fugees here and help the Fugees Family organization fund their many varied needs. You get a cute sticker for the back of your car that makes you feel good every time you see it, and Coach Luma feels good knowing she can count on you each month.

The Miracle in This Simplicity (Featuring Melissa, a Jail Garden, Bob at Buckles, and the Circle of Carrots)

2012-03-04T06:32:00.011-05:00

Out I went with my colander, my before-dinner routine predictable. Walk around the outside of my house, from the back to the side to the front, picking collard and kale leaves, and those beautiful red and green lettuce leaves, and the sweet tatsoi flowers now in full bloom, and fistfuls of cilantro, their fragrance lingering for ages afterwards. And every day as my bowl fills, I take a photo, its sheer presence never ceasing to delight me.

Yesterday I said out loud, a little prayer, perhaps, "Please may I always see the miracle in this simplicity."

And miracle it is. This simple thing I've done, grow food, has put me face-to-face, hand-to-hand, heart-to-heart, with children and the elderly, with those in need of food, knowledge and community (from a school outreach project, to a food pantry garden, to a jail farm where everything harvested is donated), and with friends I simply never would have met--such as my friend, Melissa, whose photo with my daughter kicks off the April chapter of my book, and who is pictured in the collage below, starting a new farm and new phase of her life.

As I was watching the Academy Awards the other night, I got a message to check my back door, that my friend Bob had left a donation from one of his community garden beds for the food pantry. Later in the week, after working with the guys at the jail (where DeDe Harris of Walton Wellness is doing a bang-up job), I went with him to a family-owned hardware store named Buckles Hardware in tiny Monroe, GA, where we bought onions for the Fugees Academy garden which we are building today, and I thought of those carrots, and the miraculous circle of simplicity they represent.

There is no golden award that could mean more.

Let's Prove How Powerful Social Media Is and Fund the Fugees Family Garden by 5 PM Friday (3/2) UPDATE 3/1 9:50 PM: WE DID IT! UPDATED AGAIN (see below)

2012-03-01T17:52:00.020-05:00

My friend Bob and I got the call just a couple of days ago. Luma Mufleh was finally ready to start a garden for the children at the school for refugee children-of war that she started after simply getting involved, starting a soccer team, and trusting the journey all those years ago (as immortalized in this New York Times article and the excellent book that followed, Outcasts United).

Named the Fugees Academy, it currently serves about 35 children between the ages of 11 and 18, including its first class of girls. I've written about Luma and the Fugees Family numerous times over the past couple of years as our paths have crossed (see 13 Miles and a World Away).

Today, I stood where she wants to start the garden, and, along with Lauren, from AmeriCorps, and Bob, I helped measure out and stake the beds. A flurry of activity happened all day as Bob and I tried to secure everything from free compost to borrowed wheelbarrows. We figured we can do this garden for $550 in supplies. Here is how it breaks down:

* The Fugees Family garden will consist of six 5'x10' raised beds. This provides the potential to grow 600 pounds of fresh food annually, at a rate of two pounds per square foot, for an averaged value of $3000.

* Each bed will require three 10' planks of untreated pine, plus the necessary bolts, for a bed frame cost of $50 per bed, x 6 beds=$300

* Each bed will require 20 pounds of Farmer D Organics organic fertilizer, totaling 100 pounds, for a total cost of $100. Some organic fertilizer is being donated by Farmer D Organics.

* Each bed will be filled with free county compost and topped off with Farmer D Organics planting mix, which Farmer D is donating. Paths will be lined with free wood chips.

* Each bed will be filled with 54 lettuce transplants (a mix of available varieties) for a cost of $25 per bed, x 6 beds = $150 . This will enable a fast crop prior to summer planting.

* All labor will be provided by volunteers, students, and their families.

Total cost to build the garden = $550. That's all.

We have everything lined up to build out this garden this weekend (including borrowed trucks and willing helpers), but only if we can raise this money in the next 24 hours so we can buy the supplies that weren't donated. (More money raised will, of course, fund the garden's future.) To donate, click here and donate securely via Paypal on the Fugees Family website. Please write "food" in the notes, or email me and give me your name so it can be tracked correctly. THANK YOU.

Please share this post via your social media network. Click here to repin on Pinterest.

UPDATE: Tuesday, March 6, 2012. I am still on a high from Sunday, when we built the garden. First, we raised $1200 in 24 hours, which is enough to build the garden and maintain it for a full year. Then, horrible storms happened Friday night, which moved the installation to Sunday. And then, well, you'll have to read my friend Bob's post to hear what happened next. I agree with him that this was the best of the garden builds we've had since we started. There was just an incredible feeling of flow and generosity from beginning to end of this one, and the international language of teamwork prevailed throughout.

Here are before-and-after photos.

And here is a collage of special moments from the day.

Trust Me--You Can Do a Ton (Easy as Pie)

2012-02-26T05:52:00.029-05:00

It started with a small voice in my head nagging me in my kitchen garden. What if I could grow a ton of food? (Click here to view.)

I didn't know then the door I was opening: that I would meet the people with whom I would help start a community garden, directly across the street from a food pantry, or that my new friends and I would go on to donate not one but two tons within the next two years, plus start an additional garden right at the food pantry, where the clients themselves harvest each week.

And now, as growing-pain changes happen at the community garden, I find I want to secure a ton for hunger in diverse ways to ensure its continuity, and to help reach the goal I've always had to provide 100% of the people who come to the food pantry each Wednesday (about 100 families) with something fresh and healthy.

The "gift of this challenge" gives me the opportunity to show you, really, how easy it is to donate a Ton for Hunger in your community. And maybe together, you and I and others will donate 10 tons this year, or 20, or 100.

So, here's the math:

A Ton for Hunger = 2,000 pounds

2,000 pounds = 4,000 8-ounce bags of lettuce or cooking greens

2,000 pounds = about 4,000 meaty tomatoes

2,000 pounds = about 4 trees full of pears

2,000 pounds = 50 pounds per week x 40 weeks

2,000 pounds = 50 gardeners each donating 1 pound per week x 40 weeks

2,000 pounds = 50 40-pound boxes of potatoes, apples, or zucchini being thrown out by a supermarket

So, you can try to donate 2,000 pounds from one source, but that makes you vulnerable to changes beyond your control. OR, you could do this:

* 250 pounds from community garden

* 250 pounds from church or school garden, or maybe the farmers market

* 500 pounds from home gardeners in your community

* 500 pounds from 1 pear tree (see 1 Pear Tree. 1 Hour. 567 Pounds for Those in Need)

* 500 pounds from supermarket waste

That's 2,000 pounds, easy as pie (pear pie). This suddenly seems doable, doesn't it? Like, now, this year.

Some suggestions:

1. Have fun (this matters more than you may realize).
2. Trust the journey.
3. KEEP IT SIMPLE. You won't believe how people want to complicate this.
4. Throw a wide net. You will be surprised who gets interested in joining you.
5. Use social media. It is powerful. Show pictures. Show a thermometer keeping track of pounds (just Google it--you'll find one). Start a blog (like my new one for this year's initiative: 50 Gardeners).
6. Let leaders emerge, and then get out of the way.
7. Recognize and accept the good that comes, in all its forms.

Don't get hung up on forever. Just do what you can for today. Trust me--you can do a ton.

See Operation Plant a Row 2012 (on Pinterest, my new favorite thing) for tips and inspiration to get you going (growing). And let me (and Garlic Lady, pictured--you forgot about her, didn't you?!) know if you're going to do this--we'd love to follow along.

And remember the words of my friend, Bob (pictured with the carrot), when you worry about mistakes or things not working out. "It's just dirt." (See Just Dirt here--click on the cached version--for tips for cities, citizens, and companies to grow food, knowledge, and community.)

When in Doubt, Plant (and Why It's All Business for Me Right Now)

2012-02-19T07:56:00.021-05:00

"It's all business out there," Berny, my beloved lawn guy (he came to my rescue after my two years of push-reel-mowing--see my book for the most documented lawn story in the U.S.), said to me the other day in response to seeing how I had changed up my backyard garden. This little comment was the big "aha" of the week. That's because, as I like to say, the garden resembles the gardener. A few of my friends were a little upset at me for "going all row on them" after being Miss-Free-Spirit for years. I thought of them yesterday when I planted seeds, one by one, in little straight lines, evenly spaced, not with my usual twirl-and-toss scatter method. What on earth has become of me?

Well, it's all business. First of all, I've learned a lot in the last few years about what's possible. Two pounds per square foot. And that's not even a stretch. I was hitting these numbers at the gardens I've helped start, but wasn't hitting them at home (although 400 pounds last year was nothing to sneeze at--but 2,000 pounds is my potential). Yes, I know, that's because I let all kinds of other things grow, but I'm trying to build my bridge to the future (see my Eat Pray Love hope chest here, if you missed it) and I want to now start transitioning the garden to a more permaculture model that requires less maintenance. And step one is getting it in order. Trust me--it will probably start meandering again by May. You know how I am.

But secondly, I'm currently working on a different sustainability story--my business. In the 16 years I've been running my professional writing studio, I've lost so many clients to the economy, first because of 9/11, and then three publications for which I wrote folded, and then, most recently, my big bread-and-butter corporate client closed its national operations, which shut down my projects. I've always managed before (I trust the journey explicitly), but it requires singular focus on business survival, and that means it's all business for me right now:

* My other blog, Sustainable Pattie, focuses this entire year exclusively on the business of sustainability in metro-Atlanta. And this past week's article showcases the business angle about which I'm most excited (in fact, the most excited that I've been since, oh, let's say 1994 and the mainstream emergence of the Internet): the B-Corp Movement.

* Also, FYI, fellow business owners, the most exciting social media tool I've used lately is, believe it or not, Pinterest! The New York Times ran an article last week that says Pinterest is experiencing the fastest growth of any social media tool, and I can tell you that things posted on it spread like wildfire. If you haven't tried it yet, here are two business uses for it: your portfolio, and bonus features of something you've already published (see bonus photos from Food for My Daughters here).

* If you need a professional writer for your publication or company, please contact me or pass my info on to someone else who might. Self-employed writers who lose their clients due to the economy don't get severance packages or unemployment benefits. They just stop getting paid. I've learned over the years to be honest, and to simply ask and "put it out there" when there's a need, and surprisingly unexpected things happen. Here's my LinkedIn profile. Here's my portfolio. I could use your help. Thank you.

I'm also really committed to supporting other small businesses, not only because I know how much more money this puts in the local economy (see so a city councilman strolls into a barber shop here), but because I know how they feel. I took my friend Mike's mead-making class last weekend for this reason. The guy is trying. He has come a long way, and he is hoping to open a meadery, for goodness sake. And besides, it just seems so Beowulf or something to learn how to make mead (and those are the kinds of quirky pursuits I like). And, of course, I'm working on a article about it now, so, you see, it all works together.

Okay, so let's get down to business about growing food. Yes, in answer to those who have been contacting me (thanks for remembering this!), it is time to start the sweet potato slips! This one's simple. You take an organic sweet potato and stuff it in a glass of water, as pictured. I don't even use toothpicks. It may take a month or more, but it will start sprouting. The sprouts will grow roots. Come late May, you snap them off and plant them. You can get 5-7 pounds of sweet potatoes per slip. They are perfect for school gardens as they need little to no care over the summer. They are also perfect for growing for those in need, as they tend to be ready for harvest right when we have a lull between summer and fall crops, and they are pound-heavy and nutrient-dense.

Next, potatoes. Here in Atlanta, it's time to plant them now, no matter what else you're being told. If you wait too much longer, our spring gets too hot too soon for them. Click here to view the 4-minute tutorial about planting potatoes I taped for you on what I do.

Finally, the bottle garden update. Two months ago, I didn't think I could do it. Now, I have more than 40 vases on their way to the artists to be painted, and 35 bottles ready for the semi-hydroponic set-up (they are all to raise money for a currently-unfunded food pantry garden). I'm running three tests on new methods. And I have learned a shocking amount about glass--and about asking for help (a whole team of people have been donating the bottles and de-labeling them so that I could cut them). Mostly, I've learned I'm more persistent than I realized. See here for a video on how I cut the bottles.

I posted a status update on Facebook yesterday that said, "when in doubt, plant" because, frankly, that's the action I always take when I'm not sure what to do next. Someone commented, "That should be a t-shirt." Well, guess what? Now it is. You can order your organic t-shirt (two styles for men, several styles for women) here (please note the saying is on the back of the shirt, which I find provokes more conversations).

What Novella, Willow, Tom, Sara, and Temra Tell Me

2012-02-12T07:09:00.012-05:00

Novella and Willow tell me to pee on my garden. Tom tells me that "Blake" is a self-fertile kiwi variety that thrives in my grow zone (and I breathe a sigh of relief that I don't have to worry about kiwi sex). Sara says to try a hydrogen peroxide/water spray on mildew in the shower and move on to tea tree oil if that doesn't work (it's the only place in the house where I break down and resort to a harsh chemical every few months). And Temra mentions the interesting tidbit that Olivia's farm-to-table restaurant staff is cross-trained to herd cows, book bands, and make furniture (do they get tips for that, or just tips on how to do that?).

I've read these books and emailed or spoken with all the authors (except Novella's co-author Willow, whom I would like to feature in a future post due to her outstanding and interesting work with City Slicker Farms), and I would like to heartily recommend each of them. Here's why:

Sara Snow's Fresh Living, by Sara Snow: If you're new to this living-lighter-on-the-land stuff, start with Sara. Watch her terrific shows, visit her website, and read her book. She is totally the friend-next-door, guiding you on the journey with expertise, enthusiasm and support. This book takes you room-by-room and simply suggests the hows and whys of greening things up a bit. You know when you go for a walk with a friend and the next thing you know two hours have passed and you've walked many miles without even realizing it? That's what it's like with Sara. (Pictured is one of my green-living friends, Debbie Smith, creator and owner of Idbids, on a recent walk with me). The part about houseplants, if you can believe it (she gets very specific), and the green cleaning recipes are worth the price of the book alone. And it's especially terrific to see what becomes of someone who "grew up green" (and yes, veered off the path for a little while, like most of us at one point or another!)

Urban Farming, by Thomas J. Fox, from the editors of Urban Farm magazine: Let's put it this way--I donated a pile of urban agriculture/sustainability books recently (and believe me, I love my books) to the Better World Books drop box at Truly Living Well's Wheat Street Gardens location (pictured--my Jamie!). I kept this one. As I told Tom when we talked recently (he grew up twenty minutes from me and went to school in my hometown!), this book looks like a textbook and reads like a novel. I frankly don't know how he did it. He's not an urban farmer or even a hardcore gardener, yet the information in this book is spot-on, presented beautifully, and truly offers "something for everyone" in a way that's not overwhelming but still truly helpful. If I were to teach a class on urban farming (which I'm not), this is the book I'd use.

The Essential Urban Farmer, by Novella Carpenter and Willow Rosenthal: First of all, I loved Novella Carpenter's memoir, Farm City. If you haven't read it, do. You'll think of the pigs forever, and Novella's dumpster diving, and the chef she met, and how her life changed. You'll show up more, take more risks, and laugh a bit more heartily at the serendipitous situations in which you find yourself as a result of this changing-the-way-we-eat stuff you're doing. Or at least I did. But back to this book. The Essential Urban Farmer is all business. Don't look for Novella's very quirky, funny voice here. It's the answer to, "Okay, you got me. I want to do this. Tell me how." And believe me, you'll learn it--everything from knot tying to a view of rabbit genitalia like you've never seen before. My favorite little tidbit in this book is the simple crop rotation advice: heavy feeder, light feeder, edible nitrogen fixer, non-edible nitrogen fixer (pictured is Austrian winter peas in the shopping cart garden I steward at the community garden). (That one's courtesy of Willow, as she's the veggie pro). The Essential Urban Farmer offers advice for all stages of your experience, but I'd put this one in the category of someone serious about urban homesteading/farming and wanting to move to the next level. This book goes on the shelf and will come out (frequently) when I need really specific, hardcore advice.

Farmer Jane, by Temra Costa: I am extremely influenced by design, and I smiled from the moment I opened the package mailed to me with this book in it. The premise of this book is that the decision-making and purchasing power of women in deciding what their families eat is not getting the media shout-out it deserves, and the extraordinary growth in women leaders in the real food movement is a story worth telling. Well, actually 30. Temra profiles 30 women in the sustainable food industry, from farmers to chefs, film makers to policy makers. Novella and Willow are in there, as is Olivia Sargent of Farm 255 fame. This book reminded me that I am part of a larger collective of people (men and women) working together to change not just the dinner plate, but the world, and is succeeding. (Pictured is my friend Melissa, who is shown on her farm years ago with my younger daughter--no, they are not in Temra's book, but they are two women changing the world, and this picture does appear in my book).

According to The Essential Urban Farmer, one yard of compost covers 100 feet with 3 inches of compost, so therefore the 10 cubic yards I recently had delivered covers 1,000 square feet. As I calculated my home garden area in cultivation to be 600 square feet last year, it appears as if I have, once again, expanded. And since I know, from my food pantry gardening involvement, that I can grow 2 pounds of food per square foot in my grow zone, that puts my yield potential at 2,000 pounds, which, yes, would be, finally, a ton. I am completely certain that I won't hit these numbers without Temra, Sara, Tom, Willow, and Novella offering their advice and encouragement. So I'll keep these books close by. As you may want to do, too.