Snapshots & musings from South Dakota, late Spring 2016

Living and working on the Reservation is filled with amazingly high highs and devastatingly low lows. Sometimes, these moments can happen in the same week, same day, or same hour. Trauma is everywhere and, if given enough time to reflect, wallow, or just process the colossally complex nature of it all, I might have quit my job by now.

Yet, the garden, or the La Plant Grows Its Own Food! Project, is my place, my refuge. It keeps me sane. It reminds me that I am doing something meaningful, even though, at times, it stills feels like I'm not doing enough. As hokey as that sounds, the garden is incredibly therapeutic. Endless research backs up the theory on the healing powers of growing food and being around living, green things. (Non-scientific study: I dare you to go to your local nursery and farm stand and not feel a little happier!)

Tomatoes & pepper transplants find a cheerful home in the greenhouse for the 2016 growing season (A.Gross, May 2016)

This is my third season on the Reservation, and I see and feel the garden having an impact. Practically speaking, I'm thrilled that we now finally have electricity and heat in the greenhouse, and I'll be preparing for winter production in the late summer. The beets, arugula, radishes, potatoes, and snap peas were all germinating as of this week.

More than anything, I love that the kids are also super into the whole thing. I often tell volunteers that the garden has a weird, magical forcefield around it. Somehow, once inside the garden fence, kids become calm. I can't exactly put my hands on this energy, but the garden gives off a nurturing vibe. It's a space that encourages children to be inquisitive and present. They ask amazing questions. They are curious as to what's growing. They begin to give their own mini tours of the space with a sense of confidence that makes my heart swell. They taste chives. They check on the garlic and ask when it's ready to harvest. They bring their own packets of flowers to Garden Class to start their own seedling trays. They respect the bumble bees buzzing and tell me, unprompted, that these bees are doing good work.

A bit of solitude in the garden, one bed of cilantro at a time. (A.Gross, May 2016)

But, just as I praise these successes, I recognize that it's dangerous, self-aggrandizing and even a bit delusional if we - specifically, I - begin to equate a good lettuce harvest or one week of increased participation in a garden class with "saving" people. The statistics about what it means to be native youth are alarming and apparent everyday. Rates of youth suicide are still at crisis levels. Kids are hungry for physical nourishment of nutritious food, and they also crave the emotional support and positive attention and reinforcement of adults.

For the majority of people who will read this post, they'll never, ever know the realities of what it means to be or identify as an indigenous person. I'm included in this category, even as immersed as I am in the day-to-day for almost half a year on the Reservation. But, the first step is recognizing and delving into these complexities and finding solutions that occur at an appropriate pace to make life better, specifically for children.

Kids sow their own seeds! A bit of experimentation with passionflower seeds at Garden Class. (A.Gross, May 2016)

Sowing seeds at Garden Class, with kids helping kids. (A. Gross, May 2016)

I'm a fiercely and stubbornly realistic person. That's why I've connected with farming and gardening so well. You learn early on that the fruits of the profession are only a small product of your work. Mother Nature has the ultimate say on the success or failure of a harvest. She forces you to cede control, which is, at first, completely terrifying but, eventually, incredibly freeing. She also teaches you to play the long game if you seek change rooted in sustainability and resilience and, recognizing, too, that the long game may outlive you and me.

While a realist to my core, I'm also an optimist and the two can and should coexist. We do not have to accept the hand that we've been dealt and we can change our paths. I also acknowledge and accept that my perspective is from a place not granted to many individuals. The catalyst I've chosen to combat the injustices faced by native youth is through food because it is tangible. I'm not expecting to solve all of society's ills against native people, to save all of the children of La Plant or the Reservation, or even to be able to feed the entire town. But, I can write, with absolute confidence, that the garden is a place, albeit temporary, where children can feel safe, be curious, be silly, and, while they might not be able to articulate it yet, be optimistic about their lives and their futures.  

Big cloud country: Huge clouds over the South Dakota Plains. (A.Gross, May 2016)

We've got power! The greenhouse is now electrified, which means lights, heat, and ventilation for a longer growing season! (A. Gross, May 2016)

Rooted: Dandelions foraged from the garden space. Wild health food from root to flower. (A.Gross, May 2016)

Signs of life! - Spring 2014

“Along the river, over the hills, in the ground, in the sky, spring work is going on with joyful enthusiasm, new life, new beauty, unfolding, unrolling in glorious exuberant extravagance, — new birds in their nests, new winged creatures in the air, and new leaves, new flowers spreading, shining, rejoicing everywhere.”

— John Muir, My First Summer in the Sierra

It's really happening! Spring is here, and things are growing!

Cabin Fever Cooking: Spinach Dal with Coconut Milk

Surprise. It's snowing again. (A.Gross, February 2014)

How are we all doing? Everyone ok? It's yet another snow day here in Connecticut, and it looks something like this:

To distract you from the blustery weather, I thought that I'd share a recipe. I love Indian food, and I'm often reminded how easy it is to make at home. Last night, I made spinach dal, based on this recipe from The Splendid Table. As with most recipes, I didn't read this one all the way through and I noticed that it was better for slow cookers. Well, I skipped that step. I just simmered it on the stove, and it turned out just fine. Most Indian dishes are well suited for root and winter vegetables. I had carrots, garlic, and spinach from the farm and tapped into my frozen peppers that I put up from HBF this summer.  With a few spices, brown lentils, and a can of coconut milk, this makes an excellent week-day meal...or an excuse to cook during a snowy day with the impending doom of a power outage. 

Spiced Dal with Coconut Milk (adapted from The Splendid Table - an excellent resource and food podcast!)

Ingredients:

• 2 Tbl coconut oil
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 1 large carrot, chopped/diced
• 1 cup frozen red peppers, chopped
• 3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• veggie stock or water
• 1 cup dried lentils (I used brown, but you can use yellow or red)
• 4 cups water
• 2 tsp cumin
• 1 tsp coriander
• 2 tsp tumeric
• 1/2 tsp ground cardamom
• 1 tsp ground cinnamon (**If you have curry powder on hand instead of these individual dried spices, you can use it instead. I'd use like 2 Tbl of curry powder.**)
• 1 Tbl fresh ginger, grated 
• 1 can coconut milk (I used light)
• 2 heaping handfuls of spinach, chopped finely or in a food processor

Instructions:

Dal: A good place for spinach. (A.Gross, February 2014)

1. In a large saute pan, heat the oil over medium heat and saute the onion and carrots for 10 minutes, until the onion has browned. Add frozen chopped peppers and 1/2 -1 cup of water or veggie stock to the pan, simmer, cover and cook until the carrots are tender, about 5-8 more minutes.
2. In a separate pot, bring four cups of water to a boil. Add the lentils, bring to a boil and return to a simmer and cover. Cook for 20 minutes, until lentils are tender. Drain or reserve in liquid off the heat until ready to transfer to the coconut mixture.
3. Add spices, ginger and garlic to the saute pan. Add more water or stock to prevent the mixture from sticking and continue cooking on low heat for 1-2 minutes.
4. Stir in cooked lentils, spinach and coconut milk. Cook on low heat for 20-25 minutes, uncovered, so some of the coconut milk has cooked down and the dish is heated through.
5. Serve in a bowl as is or over brown rice, millet or quinoa. 

Variations/Notes:

• I turned this into soup for lunch today. Simply reheat in a soup pot, add warm water or veggie stock. Remove from heat, and use an immersion or stick blender or, carefully, transfer the warm liquid into a stand blender. Add more liquid until you reach a desired consistency for soup - it depends on your preference. I topped my soup with a little goat cheese, but a dollop of yogurt would be excellent, too. 
• I didn't use a picture of the soup in this post. It tastes amazing, but a picture doesn't capture its deliciousness. Sadly, it resembles the color of baby poop, which is not quite appetizing on a food blog. Just trust me on the taste!

Finding some greenery, and how it taught me to stop throwing shovels

“Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”

— Mary Oliver, poet

I've lived in New England my whole life and I've always had a fondness for winter. It's taught me patience and to be a bit more reflective and introspective. As a food grower, the winter also forces me to appreciate the spring and upcoming growing season much more. But, last week, the snow broke me. I was over the cold, the ice, the uncomfortable, multi-layers of clothing. I threw a shovel like a javelin and may have used a few choice words. I officially joined the other obnoxious, melodramatic East Coasters who talk about the weather as if the apocalypse was approaching.

Welcome back, spinach. I've missed you. (A.Gross, Feburary 2014)

Fortunately, my winter-related freak-out seems to be short-lived because I saw some greenery. I harvested sweet spinach in a warm, unheated greenhouse for the first time in weeks. My body craved the greens; the act of harvesting, eating and interacting with the spinach immediately lifted my spirits. I also sowed the first seeds and handled the first seedings of the 2014 season. It feels a bit odd to be planting seeds in early February, especially with 10" of snow just beyond the greenhouse walls. But, the infusion of vitamin D and new life was the perfect recipe to break the mid-winter melancholy.

As I was transplanting rosemary seedlings, I thought of Mary Oliver's passage (that I posted above) because it was a task that made me incredibly mindful of my existence and surroundings. Not to get all hippie-dippy, but I was aware that all this green life growing in the middle of a white and grey winter was either now providing or would eventually provide us with sustenance in the coming months. 

Rosemary seedlings find a new home into bigger cells. (A.Gross, Feburary 2014)

This interaction with the seedlings was also bittersweet. This is my last winter and farming season working for a commercial farm (until, hopefully, I have my own operation!). Fortunately, I'll still be working with seeds and food in my upcoming job, but on a very different scale and different purpose. (More details soon!) Embracing the act of food cultivation and reflecting on the knowledge that I've acquired is overwhelming. I'm so thankful for my farming mentors, the places that are the farms and the life cycles of the diverse ecosystems. But, I'm also incredibly excited to use these skills to help others have access to good, healthful food. 

It's easy to be frustrated, stressed or angry, but I think it's just as easy - and far more rewarding and fulfilling - to be happy. Clinical depression certainly exists and I'm not naive enough to think that working with plants is the only cure for mental health issues. BUT for those of us with a tinge of the winter blues, in a trying circumstance, or in need of clarity, seek out signs of life and green. It helps. 

Chive seeds, ready to be planted into drill trays...and dirty farmer hands. (A.Gross, Feburary 2014)

Diggin' in

“Find your place on the planet. Dig in, and take responsibility from there.”

— Gary Snyder

Living and working on farms has allowed me the chance to discover and recognize the concept of place. By appreciating my surroundings, working with plants and witnessing seasonal cycles, I feel rooted.

Have I said how awesome my job is?! Just to rub it in a little more, here's a few shots from the last few days:

collards

collard greens, soaking up the sun @ Hunts Brook Farm, August 2013 (A.Gross)

sunflowers

bees buzzin', blue skies over the sunflowers @ Hunts Brook Farm, August 2013 (A.Gross) 

onions

the fruits of the annual onion harvest. now, it's just a waiting game to see how they dry and cure! @ Hunts Brook Farm, August 2013 (A. Gross) 

cabbage

savoy cabbage, stacked and ready for CSA shareholders @ Hunts Brook Farm, August 2013 (A.Gross) 

fennel flowers

delicate flowers of the bronze fennel @ Hunts Brook Farm, August 2013 (A. Gross)