Story
Front of the Class
In September, with season’s change, school beginning again and our focus turned to learning, I am reminded of how we gardeners rely on constant discovery. Certainly as essential as building healthy soil and promoting vigorous growth, our minds need to remain as arable for cultivation like the good earth under our bootheels. Like a child who drops a radish seed on the soil, and with a little water and sun, in a few short weeks develops into a vibrant plant with a crunchy bite. Now, no matter our age, we approach each planting season with the same wonder and mystery, asking ourselves, “will these seeds come up? Do we still know what we’re doing?” And each season, we are gifted by row after row of brilliant green crops, feeding our wonder and keeping us in awe of Nature.
Recently, while picking heirloom Seckel and Comice pears in our orchard, my mind wandered until it settled on a dusty memory of a random day in high school biology class. Studying plant cells, I read that the graininess in the flesh of pears (my favorite fruit!) is caused by tissue called sclerenchyma. As I picked in the glaring heat of the sun, I repeated to myself, “sclerenchyma, sclerenchyma”, until the word sounded entirely nonsensical. Sometimes I think our minds are like those televised Powerball broadcasts, where our thoughts are the ping-pong balls flying around until one pops through the tube to reveal its number. High upon the orchard ladder, that strange ping-pong ball of a thought reminded me of the many folds and dark corners in our brains, and I wondered how a murky, twenty-five year old memory decided to suddenly float to the surface. Am I just a plant nerd, or is there something more profound at play here? Who knows…
Here at Blackberry Farm, the collective thoughts, questions and enthusiasm of the entire staff help shape our mission in the fields and forests. Like that first radish seed, we began simply by growing vegetables for our chefs, and since have endeavored to steward a plantation of truffle-inoculated hazel trees and are now experimenting with aromatic hop vines for our burgeoning brewery. Next spring, we have plans to cultivate fields of interesting old-time grains for future distillation of whiskey. We are constantly learning from each other and from what the land gives us – essentials to growing our farm. Thankfully, we’re all plant nerds.
Jeff Ross
Garden Manager
In September, with season’s change, school beginning again and our focus turned to learning, I am reminded of how we gardeners rely on constant discovery. Certainly as essential as building healthy soil and promoting vigorous growth, our minds need to remain as arable for cultivation like the good earth under our bootheels. Like a child who drops a radish seed on the soil, and with a little water and sun, in a few short weeks develops into a vibrant plant with a crunchy bite. Now, no matter our age, we approach each planting season with the same wonder and mystery, asking ourselves, “will these seeds come up? Do we still know what we’re doing?” And each season, we are gifted by row after row of brilliant green crops, feeding our wonder and keeping us in awe of Nature.
Recently, while picking heirloom Seckel and Comice pears in our orchard, my mind wandered until it settled on a dusty memory of a random day in high school biology class. Studying plant cells, I read that the graininess in the flesh of pears (my favorite fruit!) is caused by tissue called sclerenchyma. As I picked in the glaring heat of the sun, I repeated to myself, “sclerenchyma, sclerenchyma”, until the word sounded entirely nonsensical. Sometimes I think our minds are like those televised Powerball broadcasts, where our thoughts are the ping-pong balls flying around until one pops through the tube to reveal its number. High upon the orchard ladder, that strange ping-pong ball of a thought reminded me of the many folds and dark corners in our brains, and I wondered how a murky, twenty-five year old memory decided to suddenly float to the surface. Am I just a plant nerd, or is there something more profound at play here? Who knows…
Here at Blackberry Farm, the collective thoughts, questions and enthusiasm of the entire staff help shape our mission in the fields and forests. Like that first radish seed, we began simply by growing vegetables for our chefs, and since have endeavored to steward a plantation of truffle-inoculated hazel trees and are now experimenting with aromatic hop vines for our burgeoning brewery. Next spring, we have plans to cultivate fields of interesting old-time grains for future distillation of whiskey. We are constantly learning from each other and from what the land gives us – essentials to growing our farm. Thankfully, we’re all plant nerds.
Jeff Ross
Garden Manager
In September, with season’s change, school beginning again and our focus turned to learning, I am reminded of how we gardeners rely on constant discovery. Certainly as essential as building healthy soil and promoting vigorous growth, our minds need to remain as arable for cultivation like the good earth under our bootheels. Like a child who drops a radish seed on the soil, and with a little water and sun, in a few short weeks develops into a vibrant plant with a crunchy bite. Now, no matter our age, we approach each planting season with the same wonder and mystery, asking ourselves, “will these seeds come up? Do we still know what we’re doing?” And each season, we are gifted by row after row of brilliant green crops, feeding our wonder and keeping us in awe of Nature.
Recently, while picking heirloom Seckel and Comice pears in our orchard, my mind wandered until it settled on a dusty memory of a random day in high school biology class. Studying plant cells, I read that the graininess in the flesh of pears (my favorite fruit!) is caused by tissue called sclerenchyma. As I picked in the glaring heat of the sun, I repeated to myself, “sclerenchyma, sclerenchyma”, until the word sounded entirely nonsensical. Sometimes I think our minds are like those televised Powerball broadcasts, where our thoughts are the ping-pong balls flying around until one pops through the tube to reveal its number. High upon the orchard ladder, that strange ping-pong ball of a thought reminded me of the many folds and dark corners in our brains, and I wondered how a murky, twenty-five year old memory decided to suddenly float to the surface. Am I just a plant nerd, or is there something more profound at play here? Who knows…
Here at Blackberry Farm, the collective thoughts, questions and enthusiasm of the entire staff help shape our mission in the fields and forests. Like that first radish seed, we began simply by growing vegetables for our chefs, and since have endeavored to steward a plantation of truffle-inoculated hazel trees and are now experimenting with aromatic hop vines for our burgeoning brewery. Next spring, we have plans to cultivate fields of interesting old-time grains for future distillation of whiskey. We are constantly learning from each other and from what the land gives us – essentials to growing our farm. Thankfully, we’re all plant nerds.
Jeff Ross
Garden Manager