As a very small child, I would pray every night for God to give me a cow and a horse. I saw those things as being more important than pretty dresses, a new bike, or any of the other things I’m sure kids my age were asking for. In my innocence, I believed that a cow and a horse would give me freedom, happiness, and stability. With a horse beneath me, I could escape into the lush forests which I loved. And with a cow in tow, I could have a constant supply of food available. Oh to be such a beautifully naïve child again!

Currently, I’m working two properties, with vastly different farm techniques.

The first home is large, but it’s crammed into a very elite neighborhood with a tiny one-third acre lot. Because of the close neighbors and small amount of land, I’ve learned to plant everything very close together: dwarf fruit trees, tall plants and vines along the fence, midsized plants underneath, low growing plants and rootstock up front. Everything is heavily mulched with shredded cardboard, newspaper, bark, and chicken manure from my coop. Yes, the city zoning does allow me to keep a few chickens, just not the horse and cow I used to pray for.
I’ve worked this garden for over a decade now, although I really wouldn’t call it work because every plant out there thrives with very little interference from me. Annual crops like lettuce reseed and grow up where their parents once stood. Perennials like asparagus grow thick and lush. Flowers grow right among the vegetables, drawing in the beneficial insects. I grow everything organically. No pesticides, no weed killers. Any weeds that manage to find their way under the fence are simply chopped back into compost. It’s beautiful, but tiny, and I’ve been itching for more land to play on.

The second home is smaller, but has a big ten acres for me to grow on. I’ve christened this new property, Willowbark. At the moment, she might look like a desolate wasteland from a post-apocalyptic movie, but I dream of the day she will be a thriving food forest capable of supporting not just a family, but also that cow and horse I used to pray for. I purchased Willowbark in 2019, but we’re only just now beginning the process of healing the soil and repairing the old home. There’s a lot of work to be done, but for me it’s like looking at a blank canvas just waiting for someone with the inspiration to start painting.

Learn more about Willowbark