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Abby Quillen

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Gardens

Welcome to My Garden

By Abby Quillen

garden love 126

Oh hello there, come on in. Do you want to see the garden? That’s what I’d say if you stopped by today — even if you happened to be selling magazine subscriptions, educational materials, or hand woven baskets. Oh yes, everyone ends up out in the garden munching on plump snap peas and tender butter lettuce, watching zucchini grow before their very eyes. It’s all I can do not to gush about these bursting beds twenty-four hours a day. (Sorry, friends.)

So come on back. Check out the sun-dappled chard and the lettuce forest. Marvel at the sheer ambition of hop plants and the audacity of fennel. Learn from the sunflowers, who turn their faces to follow the sun all day.

Despite the scarcity of corn and the abundant weeds, my Three Sisters bed is bringing me constant delight. “Look at all the squash we’ll have!” I proclaim daily as I count all of the bright yellow flowers dotting the spiky vines. We’re already eating zucchini nearly every day. (Can you see the excitement on my sons’ faces?)

Come, let me show you how the bean tendrils wrap up the ears of corn. It’s better than television, I tell you.

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What’s that, you need to go now? I wish I could send each of you off with armloads of lettuce, beets, and peas. (I’m sure my sons would insist you take a zucchini or two.) But alas, I’ll invite you back soon.

How’s your garden growing? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

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July 8, 2013Filed Under: Gardening Tagged With: Backyard Garden, Food, Gardening, Gardens, Growing food, Organic Gardening, Three Sisters Garden, Vegetable Garden

How Two Plant Geeks Grew a Permaculture Oasis in an Ordinary Backyard

By Abby Quillen

Here’s my review of Paradise Lot by Eric Toensmeier and Jonathan Bates, which appears in the current issue of YES! Magazine.

Paradise Lot Book Cover

How Two Plant Geeks Grew a Permaculture Oasis in an Ordinary Backyard
by Abby Quillen

In “Paradise Lot,” two residents of an inner city write about how they transformed less than an acre of their blighted yard into a thriving food forest full of mushrooms, gooseberries, silkworms, and more.

Eric Toensmeier and Jonathan Bates are not your average backyard gardeners. They call themselves plant geeks, and they’re not kidding.

Toensmeier sustained a serious head injury in 1994, and to heal, he memorized thousands of Latin plant names, families, orders, and superorders. He also cross-indexed a tome of edible plants with references listing cold-hardy varieties and perennials. Bates studied biology and ecology and spends a lot of time poring over Plants for a Future, an online database of useful plants. Not surprisingly, when the two friends bought a duplex together in 2004, they didn’t build your average garden.

They set out with a list of ambitious goals. They wanted to transform their yard into a permaculture oasis by planting “a mega-diverse living ark of useful and multifunctional plants” from their bioregion and around the world. They hoped to harvest “two handfuls of fresh fruit every day for everybody in the house, including guests, for as long a season as possible,” and also to attract birds, beneficial insects, and a couple of bachelorettes.

Toensmeier, the main author of Paradise Lot, who also wrote Perennial Vegetables and co-wrote Edible Forest Gardens, doesn’t skimp on details about how he and Bates turned a “dead and blighted” one-tenth of an acre of compacted soil in a “biologically impoverished neighborhood” of Holyoke, Mass., into Food Forest Farm, an Eden for edibles. Although it is more memoir than how-to, Paradise Lot outlines the basics of sheet mulching, raising silkworms, keeping chickens, and growing mushrooms. Readers will gain an understanding of the principles and objectives of permaculture, a movement that began in Australia in the 1970s. It combines indigenous land management practices, ecological design, and sustainable methods to create low-maintenance gardens that function like natural ecosystems.

It’s inspiring and a little daunting to read about what Toensmeier and Bates achieved on their small plot in eight years. They managed to transform their Massachusetts front yard into a tropical garden. In their backyard, they installed a pond, shed, and greenhouse, and they grow about 160 edible perennials, many of which you’ve likely never heard of before. Here’s an inventory of the berries they harvest each season: honeyberries, strawberries, goumi cherries, Gerardi dwarf mulberries, four kinds of currants, gooseberries, jostas, blueberries, wild raspberries, golden Anne raspberries, ground-cherries, wintergreen berries, juneberries, and lingonberries.

Toensmeier hopes the complexity and diversity of Food Forest Farm won’t dissuade beginners from experimenting with permaculture in their backyards, since part of the reason they undertook the project in an urban area with typical inner-city problems was to make it a relevant example for amateurs to emulate. “Our desire to try many new things—new models of production, hundreds of new and interesting species—meant that we put a lot more time into a garden of this size than any reasonable person would ever do,” he writes. It’s helpful that the book shares the friends’ ample mistakes, setbacks, and revisions, making it clear that the most important thing a gardener needs if embarking on a similar project is a dedication to experimentation.

Paradise Lot offers gardeners more than inspiration and instruction. Toensmeier and Bates present an unconventional alternative to the American dream: two single men committed to a friendship and to making their backyard and neighborhood better. “Trusting each other with such a responsibility felt especially rare in this world,” Bates writes in one of the short essays he contributes to Toensmeier’s text. The friends’ dedication to each other and to a patch of land paid off. “We made our little paradise here,” Toensmeier writes.

Moreover, Paradise Lot is permeated by an incredibly hopeful and compelling vision of humans’ place in nature. Toensmeier is critical of the environmental movement’s emphasis on minimizing footprints, because he thinks that permaculture and indigenous land management practices offer us ways to affect ecosystems for the better. After all, he and Bates turned a barren lot into a habitat for fish, snails, frogs, salamanders, raccoons, opossums, woodchucks, bugs, and worms.

And the wildlife actually helps them manage the garden. The birds eat insects. The opossums eat rotten fruit when it drops. The squirrels eat unwanted Norway maple seedlings. Some permaculture farmers even employ squirrels as labor by setting out buckets near their nut trees, letting the squirrels fill them, and swapping the nuts for corn. Toensmeier is convinced it’s time for us to re-evaluate our ideas of “nature,” “agriculture,” and “wilderness” and embrace the potential to transform our communities into beautiful, healthy ecosystems like Food Forest Farm.

“Imagine what would happen,” he writes, “if we as a species paid similar attention to all the degraded and abandoned lands of the world.”


Abby Quillen wrote this article for Love and the Apocalypse, the Summer 2013 issue of YES! Magazine. Abby is a freelance writer in Eugene, Ore. She blogs at abbyquillen.com.

May 31, 2013Filed Under: Gardening Tagged With: Backyard Chickens, Book Review, Eric Toensmeier, Food Forest Farm, Gardening, Gardens, Jonathan Bates, Paradise Lot, Permaculture

Redefining Wealth

By Abby Quillen

Redefining Wealth #gardens #greenspace

“Wealth is the ability to fully experience life.” – Henry David Thoreau

“In the new good life, the point is not to have the most toys, but the most joys.” – John Robbins

I was thumbing through a gourmet cookbook the other day, and the author recommended visiting farm stores to procure the most flavorful, just-picked ingredients.

I glanced out at my garden and felt wealthy.

Here we are harvesting fresh herbs, greens, and eggs every day just a few feet from our back door. The early spring sunshine probably deserves more credit than I do for all of this abundance. But I’ve invested plenty of sweat and love into that soil over the years, and I built something that feels very much like wealth.

When I hear the word wealth, I usually think of stock portfolios, IRAs, and 401Ks – the green stuff.

But when I think about what makes me feel wealthy, my mind jumps to other green stuff: my garden, city parks, wide open spaces, and the neighborhood fig tree that gives and gives and gives.

I also think of my close, connected neighborhood; my friends; and walking and riding my bike every day. I think of my kids and our unhurried mornings reading books, watching snails, and counting spiders’ legs.

Wealth is usually defined as an “abundance of items of economic value or material possessions.” But I wonder if it’s time for us to redefine wealth, at least in our own lives.

I’m not knocking savings accounts, retirement plans, or consumer goods. These things are important; they’re just not the whole story.

When we reflect on what makes us feel wealthy, we expand beyond our culture’s emphasis on property, assets, and commodities. We might think about good health, breathing clean air, living in a safe neighborhood, and having access to fresh produce. We might think about having more time.

And by redefining wealth for ourselves, we can ensure that we’re building the kind of lives and communities that make us feel wealthy. They might look a lot different than the ones we see on advertisements and on TV.

[clickToTweet tweet=”We can build lives and communities that make us feel wealthy. #gardens #greenspace” quote=”We can build lives and communities that make us feel wealthy.” theme=”style1″]

If you liked this post, you may enjoy these:

  • Can Money Buy Happiness?
  • Making Economic Exchange a Loving Human Interaction
  • Ditch the Life Coach and Do the Daily Chores
  • Should Towns Print Their Own Cash?

What makes you feel wealthy? I’d love to hear about it in the comments section.

May 27, 2013Filed Under: Gardening, Nature, Simple Living Tagged With: Building Wealth, Gardening, Gardens, Nature, Simple Living, Wealth, Wealth Creation

Lessons From the Garden

By Abby Quillen

“Can we plant the pumpkins this day?”

“Let’s go see if the peas are growing!”

“Mom, the chickens are in the garden again.”

Oh yes, those are the sounds of spring around here. It’s our fifth year growing vegetables in our backyard. It’s amazing how much easier it is than that first April, when seven months pregnant, I dragged my husband out to help me dig a garden bed in our brand-new backyard. I wish I’d heeded the wisdom of permaculturists, who recommend observing and analyzing a site for an entire year before planting a single seed … and also the wisdom of my body, which wasn’t happy about my grand gardening visions.

Those are just two of the hard-earned lessons I’ve learned from five years of gardening. Except for one summer of gardening in Colorado several years ago, my husband and I are gardening newbies. My dad planted a vegetable garden for one season when I was a kid, and it was one of the most thrilling summers of my life. I couldn’t wait to go outside every morning to see what was growing. I knew I would be a vegetable gardener someday, and during the many years my husband and I spent renting and moving around, I longed to get my hands in the soil.

I wasn’t a natural.

Those first few years, I labored over my garden plans for hours while studying Steve Solomon’s Growing Vegetables West of the Cascades. I’m thankful for all I’ve learned from that book, and from others. I still refer to books. But even for a word lover like me, gardening is one of those things you learn by doing. And, oh, how I’ve learned.

My first big lesson: I’m not really in charge.

Yes, I can plant at a certain time and mix the fertilizer. I can water or not water. I can fence the chickens away from the first tender sprouts. But I’m collaborating with the weather, the rain, the soil, the wildlife, bugs, insects, and bees. There’s a certain amount of surrender involved.

Over the years I’ve surrendered to stunted squash, wilted cabbage, and unripe tomatoes. To chickens shredding the lettuce, bugs eating the spinach, kids eating the cherry tomatoes.

I’ve learned to let go of perfection.

My next big lesson: gardens have healing powers.

For a couple of seasons, gardening became a chore. Work. I’d trudge out and dutifully plant the seeds and water. I’d mix my fertilizer and mindlessly sprinkle the soil with it.

I believed in growing my own food. I wanted to harvest vegetables from my back yard. But I’m not sure I loved the actual gardening part.

Last spring, overwhelmed with caring for a three-year-old and an infant, I wasn’t sure if I’d plant a garden at all.

“Maybe it’s a good year to let our plots lay fallow,” I announced in March.

But, at the end of April, I got a great deal on a bunch of starts and planted.

Then my dad died.

I spent much of June in Colorado. And when I came back, it was incredibly uplifting to see the peas twisting up their trellises and the lettuce, rainbow chard, spinach, carrots, and heirloom tomatoes crowding their beds, reaching for the sun.

I spent so many hours with those plants over the next few months, watering and weeding, watching and listening, sitting.

I was surprised a few weeks ago when I pulled out my gardening journal. Every season I meticulously record what I plant, what’s growing and what’s not, when I fertilize, etc. Last year, I didn’t jot down a single note after April 29.

And yet, I learned more from gardening than ever before.

The garden is the perfect place to grieve. Quiet, buzzing with bees, bursting with life. The plants have so much to tell us about life and death, about patience, about just being.

Now, as I embark on my fifth growing season, I feel no sense of duty. No obligation. I only feel grateful and excited.

What lessons have you learned from your garden? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

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April 1, 2013Filed Under: Gardening Tagged With: Family life, Gardening, Gardens, Grief, Healing, Learning, Life, Vegetable Gardening

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