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I used to think farming was about growing food, now I think farming is about growing soil and habitat, and food is what happens when you do that well.

~Jay Drysdale

Dear Reader

As chilly and often grey May folded into June's warmth, affirmative answers to my many questions arrived. Yes, those gorgeous white beans from Transylvania did germinate and are now climbing up the trellis. Yes, the new potato variety is flourishing in the high tunnel, and the setting of first flowers signals potato production is underway. With a name like Upstate Abundance, I had high hopes. The newly bedded strawberries are blooming, as are the support rows of calendula and cosmos.

As a natural experimenter, I’m always conducting a dozen or more garden tests at any one time. The results are part of the call-and-response song that begins mid-April and continues through the fall. I initiate with a seed, a start, a cutting, or intercropping, and the earth responds. This seasonal conversation builds over time, beginning much like the tenuous strains of an orchestra warm-up. About nowish, this felt vibrational whir is transformed into a complex composition in which each and every plant and winged friend contributes. May is the month of assembly, June is when a melody can be followed, and by July, the harmony is exquisitely intertwined.

Out in the Gemmo Forest, where the wild spaces far outnumber the cultivated ones, the conversation has a different feel. Rather than the call-and-response of the garden, the forest is a negotiation, a search for a mutually acceptable agreement. Three seasons ago, the forest and I began what I came to understand was a negotiation. I was in search of a stretch of land to transition into a cultivated field, something it had not experienced for a quarter of a century. The first farming family used the entire 12.5 acres for conventional cultivation of corn and strawberries. Their growing process involved tilling, the use of manufactured inputs, and extensive mechanical intervention. I arrived on the scene with a widely different vision. How was I to communicate to this breathtakingly beautiful expanse that I believed in a different path, one of mutualism, a mingling of wilderness and production beds, serving one another and its many inhabitants?

After weeks of evening walks circumventing the twelve acres, we settled on a site, and the process began. The soil was lightly disced to barely break the soil, compost was spread, and the first rye seeds were scattered. Since that time, all remaining work was completed by hand, many hands in fact. We've rotated cover crops for two full growing seasons; permanent beds were measured and dug, and then they all sat patiently, waiting for irrigation.

This week, intern Lucie and I pulled the silage tarp that had covered them for nearly a year. After encouraging the few snakes to move to an equally suitable home, we gave the beds a final prep with the broad fork and rake. Today, before the expected rains, they will be seeded with buckwheat by hand and covered with straw for a short rotation until August. The buckwheat will feed the soil and pollinators and, once terminated, will form a mulch for planting. In the last stretch of summer, the beds will be planted in with the first large-scale planting for the 2027 season and beyond. I would never have imagined that what I negotiated for in 2023 would take so many seasons to complete. I have a sense, however, that the land knew. There were lessons I needed to learn, and trust I needed to build.

As I’ve gone about my growing projects this week, I’ve done so with the echoes of Jay Drysdale's book, Reading the Land, ringing in my ears. If I could put one book in the hands of every grower, this would be it. Somehow, in 65 thin digestible pages, Drysdale is able to deliver exactly what one needs to know to decode nature’s signals and be in a true relationship with the land, a term often used but seldom understood. You don't need to be a farmer or gardener, for that matter, to appreciate the wisdom. You’ll find his blog here on Substack and his self-published, concise books here. I find his ability to bring what is essential to light with such ease to be the trait of a gifted writer. If you dive into his work, I’d love to know what you think.

Tomorrow, the sun begins its transit through what the Human Design system calls Gate 45, the gate of leadership and resource management. The corresponding I Ching Hexagram is Lake over Earth, and the English translation is Assembly. The oracle tells of gathering your people and aligning your personal will and that of the Heavens to lead. The energy present will invite you to consider exactly what you’ve chosen to invest in with your time, talents, and treasure. It’s worth noting that this is enhanced by the Venus conjunction with Jupiter, which brings a special delivery of beauty and abundance - be sure to soak it up.

Until next week,

Follow the Sun June 7-18th

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