“To restore the land one must live and work in a place. The place will welcome whomever approaches it with respect and attention. To work in a place is to bond to a place: people work together in place, become a community, in time, grows a culture. To restore the wild is to restore culture.” – Gary Snyder
I have been spending these winter months reflecting on what it means to steward biodynamic land. Being attuned to the seasons is a foundational part of biodynamic farming, being guided by the stars and moon to direct fertility sprays, seeding, and harvesting. At the core of biodynamics is the recognition of each farm’s singular individuality, the unique soul of a place. This idea is intuitive given each farm has a singular history, climate, soil, and thousands of other factors that differentiate it. Land is never stagnant, it is a breathing and evolving space; it is a living organism. Parcel to this is the belief in biodynamics of a human aspect, those who tend land will indelibly leave a unique impact.
In this spirit I have been admiring the uniqueness of the garden I tend at Brooks, which has its own stamp of individuality. This is a space that has been tended by so many and I love to picture the evolution and continuation of such a legacy. As I plant hellebores in the thick compost of the garden I give a breath of thanks for the gardeners before me who lovingly mulched these beds. When I tend the large hydrangea tucked along the old farmhouse, I picture the previous owner of this home, who l’m sure lovingly tucked fresh blooms into vases for her own table.
Humans are part of a land’s individuality, we sculpt the terrain both by our decisions and our spiritual connectivity. This is what it is to be human, how we show up every day can make an impact, whether small or big, good or bad. Soon it will be four years since I have begun tending this land, through that time I have watched myself grow, and with this transition the garden has grown with me. When I first arrived here, I was a stranger to the land, and over time I have become both its guide and its student. I feed these soils with compost and mulch them with straw from the chicken coop. In return I reap the rewards of food, flowers, and medicines.
The wisdom of Biodynamics, like so many earth first ways of land stewardship, is guided by this relationship of reciprocity. This practice of give and take has a seasonal pull to it and humans have a responsibility to uphold both sides of this agreement. In this time of winter, there is little to be harvested from the land, a stray leek, a handful of beets, a dainty pink radicchio. Instead, this is the time to give back, to mulch and compost and give gratitude for the growing seasons of the past and for those in the future. I think this feeling of gratitude and reciprocity reverberates through our gardens and farms. Maybe you have felt this before when entering a space. There is a feeling that something is right, like a sigh, or a weight off your shoulders that you didn’t know had been pressing you down. I think this feeling is rooted in a sense of coming home, of knowing that a place only becomes a home when it feeds you, both in body and soul.
– With Love from the Garden
Shannon
Farm to Table
Our tasting room menu this month features herbs from the Brooks garden.