Farming Females

Posted on May 6, 2014 by Shawndra Miller

Last month I enjoyed interviewing several women for a special section in Farm Indiana on women in agriculture. While some didn’t consider themselves farmers, all had valuable perspectives about what it means to bring a female sensibility to agriculture.

Many spoke of women’s connection to the earth as something deep and primal. Several compared the nurturing of plants and animals to caring for children.

And Kay Niedenthal, an urban farmer in Indianapolis, might have been talking about our procreative power when she said, “It’s like magic to make something from nothing. To start with dirt and a seed and then have a meal.”

Anna Welch of Fields of Agape in a field being prepared for hull-less oats. (The periodical has a much better photo of Anna by the terrific photographer Josh Marshall.)

I was intrigued by the fact that Anita Spencer of Homestead Growers didn’t start out growing organically. She and her husband were Miracle-Gro fans at the start. When a friend asked if they’d ever considered going organic, she said, “We laughed at her!”

But that question planted a seed all its own. They took a look at the contents of the famed formulation and realized they didn’t want all those chemicals in their bodies and those of their children. Nor did they want to sell produce grown that way.

Now Anita is proud to offer high-quality, chemical-free food to her customers through both Homestead Growers and its spinoff line of tomato sauces, Local Folks Foods.

(As a side note, this anecdote showed me how questions can spur behavior change, even the questions don’t seem well-received. I resolve to ask more questions!)

For the full story, including seven mini-profiles of women in agriculture and Josh Marshall’s beautiful photos, see the current issue of Farm Indiana (page A8).

Celebrating International Permaculture Day

Posted on May 4, 2014 by Shawndra Miller

Today is International Permaculture Day. Guest blogger Thomas Tlusty wrote the following piece exploring his connection to Permaculture, and its power.

Guest Post by Thomas Tlusty, founding partner of The Garden Tower Project

Two years ago, I saw sketches of a device that I felt certain had the potential to revolutionize urban agriculture. I had long been interested in the economics and environmental impact of our food system. So the design piqued my curiosity and unleashed my desire to have a positive impact in my own lifetime.

The Garden Tower is a water-saving, worm-friendly, uber-productive vertical gardening aid.

Since that fateful reveal, my life has been transformed. The Garden Tower Project reignited my passion, and I began rethinking current food production/distribution models. My eyes were opened to the plethora of pioneers, visionaries and everyday folks who are practicing, teaching, and studying Permaculture and sustainable farming/lifestyles.

I am inspired by those who inspire others. I’m thinking of luminaries like Bill Mollison, David Holmgren, and Will Allen. I’m also thinking of many less well-known but still pivotal figures, such as:

Community Slow Food Educators
Permaculture Design Educators
Elementary School Science Educators
Organic Gardening Instructors

I am a relative newcomer to this work. Yet I feel a kinship with those who aspire to build community and develop our inherent natural resources in a straightforward manner.

I’m troubled by the unbinding of our culture from its roots. Western civilization is “circling the drain” as we surpass our fragile planet’s carrying capacity (in our current mode of operation).

Permaculture (to me) represents an entirely sane alternative to the path on which we find ourselves today. Permaculture principles contain not only the seeds of hope but a catalyst for change. In practice, these concepts could improve the lives of untold millions and positively influence the course of our future on this planet.

I find hope in people working together in communities, sharing education and experience. And teaching our children well is our first and best hope.

A child at Learning Gate Community School prepares soil despite the cast on her leg. Thomas captions this photo “Our Hope For Mending a Broken Future.”

Our Hope For Mending a Broken Future: A child at Learning Gate Community School in Lutz, Florida, prepares soil despite the cast on her leg. Instructor: Cissy Brady Stanko

Permaculture engenders ideas and conversations around topics like environmental science, vermiculture, organic gardening, eco-art, and eco-psychology. And connections grounded in Permaculture positively transcend any political, socio-economic, racial, or gender barriers that have been erected in the past or could possibly be constructed in the future.

In my endeavors, I have developed friendships through online Permaculture forums and related Facebook pages. The connections range from the casual and conversational to the inspirational and uplifting. Together they raise me from the deep morass that had grown like a thick moss over my heart’s desire.

I’m now acting on a long-felt wish to accomplish something meaningful and utterly critical: addressing our outdated and increasingly toxic food production/distribution system. Without action and intent, habits will remain the same. Permaculture shows us the way to a very different future.

Thomas Tlusty was raised in Lombard, IL. Thomas was active in social justice and interested in food issues from a young age. In his late teens to early twenties, he worked at the Chicago Board of Trade (in Agricultural Commodities) for a leading grain exporter. The Ellettsville, IN resident has been a practicing Certified Natural Health Professional and is currently an Active Isolated Stretching Therapist in private practice. Thomas is a founding partner in the Garden Tower Project.

No More “Long Hard Slog”

Posted on April 30, 2014 by Shawndra Miller

Several readers told me that Tearing up an Ancestral Contract resonated with them. Here’s another inheritance I’m reevaluating: the much-vaunted Protestant work ethic.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad I have a strong work ethic. I’m grateful that the folks in my lineage weren’t afraid of hard work, and that I inherited a bit of that spirit. I like to buckle down and get things done.

Saturday my neighbors and I participated in the Great Indy Cleanup. Photo by Heidi Unger.

But sometimes, work isn’t the thing that is needed. Maybe it’s play. Maybe it’s stillness. Maybe it’s receiving. Maybe it’s rest.

I have known this, of course, in my head. But to really bring that knowledge into the body and energy field? That’s a different thing than intellectual understanding.

I completed two big projects a few weeks ago. I’d spent several weeks extremely focused, with most days quite regimented in order to fit everything in. And it felt good to work hard and get to the finish line.

With the deadlines past, I enjoyed a few leisurely days. It was hard not to feel like I was shirking. I worried that I was not getting important work done. I’d grown accustomed to pushing. So if I allowed myself to enjoy a slower pace, a few long walks in the sunshine, something felt “off.”

Redbud blossom photo by Heidi Unger.

But I knew I didn’t want to live the rest of my life constantly driving myself beyond my capacity, as has been my habit lo these many years. I remembered the energetic principles I’ve been learning from energy healer friends like Merry Henn and Dawn Ryan. And I took a look at some core beliefs.

I’ve practiced self-testing my energy field (also known as muscle testing) for several years. At this point the skill is reliable enough to serve me in all kinds of capacities. For example, I can test my resonance with various beliefs.

The residual effect of my inherited work ethic manifests like this:

“It is impossible for me to be happy and rested and still meet my commitments.”
“I must work to the point of exhaustion in order to get my work done.”
“I must push my body to the point of illness to prove my worth.”

All of these statements “tested strong,” meaning my energy body resonated a big YES to each of these unhealthy beliefs. But these beliefs no longer serve me. I wanted to change them at an energetic level.

I used Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT) to quickly shift them, then rechecked: They tested weak. I worked with variations of the statements and did more rounds of EFT. Eventually I came upon:

“It is impossible to live in tune with my life purpose and feel happy and rested.”
“Aligning with my life purpose is a long, hard slog.”
“I must disregard my body’s need for rest if I intend to fulfill my life purpose.”

Well! I shifted these too, until I resonated something completely different. I now equate fulfilling my life purpose with deep joy and ease, a healthy body, connection, flow, and other such deliciousness.

Clowning with invasive garlic mustard. My job at the cleanup was to pull it.

What about you—what contracts and core beliefs are you holding or releasing?

(Interested in learning a simple way to self-test? Check out this video.)

Tearing Up an Ancestral Contract

Posted on April 27, 2014 by Shawndra Miller

I woke up thinking about that beloved quote we see so many different places: “Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.” Attributed falsely to Nelson Mandela, the words are part of a beautiful passage by Marianne Williamson.

I realize now that I took that quote to heart, but not really into my being. I thought I understood it. I aspired to it. But recently I’ve been reviewing my ancestral contracts and commitments. I see more clearly now the ways I’ve limited myself.

I was raised Mennonite. Few would think it to look at me (and no one would guess it from my Sunday morning routine). But Mennonite-ness is a key part of my identity.

In many ways I don’t feel very far removed from that heritage—nor from my Amish forebears. Recently my spouse and I watched a PBS show about the Amish. We kept nudging each other: Yep. That’s us! (She descends from the same “plain people.”)

By Gadjoboy, via Wikimedia Commons

But what about these contracts I’m reviewing? Well, we Anabaptists are a humble people; that’s one of our main things. (Sometimes I think we’re pretty darn proud of our humility!)

And there is something to be said for taking a self-effacing approach to life. The world is full of braggadocio. Who needs it? Why not modestly go about our work? Actions speak louder than words, and all that.

I embrace many agreements stemming from my heritage. I value simplicity, stewardship, and nonconformity: carving a path that’s different from the mainstream.

But in our purported humility’s case, it seems that something unhelpful hitched a ride on that value. It’s a habit of self-effacement so extreme that it abnegates many of our gifts.

What do we have to offer, who are we to say, why would anyone care what we think?

Quick story: On more than one occasion, I heard my dad refer to himself as a “dumb Amishman.” (He said this jokingly—he was never really Amish, though his father had been.)

Related story: Sometimes I assist my spouse in whapping something together—perhaps reusing some wire and twine to make a garden trellis or the like. And one of us will quip, while surveying our finished product: “Not bad for a couple of Amish girls.”

Raised beds Judy and Dad made from reclaimed materials.

It’s funny, and it speaks to the beautiful ingenuity that our forebears cultivated. But it also smacks of a self-doubt passed down for generations.

Our gifts have been buried under an avalanche of inherited beliefs about who we are and who we can never be. We run from the limelight. We say yes to too many tasks, making it impossible to complete our real assignment on earth. We keep our dreams under wraps.

At some point this unspoken agreement with our ancestors simply no longer serves.

I’m sure most people face ancestral contracts rooted in our ethnicity, religion, or nationality. Perhaps it’s time to bring these agreements to light. We can decide for ourselves whether to sign on the dotted line—or whether to tear the contracts up.

Unfurling

Posted on April 23, 2014 by Shawndra Miller

Happy belated Earth Day. Today I’m in a bit of a spring swoon. I fall in love with the world this time of year. I find myself looking more closely than usual, feeling wonder and deep gratitude.

For lunch I had a salad of farmers market greens, augmented by a few trout lily leaves. Several large colonies appear every April across the street from our house for a short time before fading back into the earth.

We’d dug our Jerusalem artichokes last week, so I cleaned one up and cut it into crispy little rounds for my salad. While I was scrubbing the dirt off, it occurred to me that something about Jerusalem artichokes is just flat amazing. All that sweetness growing deep underground.

Jerusalem artichokes, aka sunchokes, from our garden

The tops of the plants are dead; we left the ‘chokes in the ground all winter. Yet here they are on my plate, ready to complement the sharp tang of mustard and dandelion and arugula.

I feel especially tender toward trees this spring. Probably because winter was longer and harsher than usual. Snow and ice buried us for several months. Many branches cracked under the burden; some trees split in half.

So it seems more miraculous than ever to see trees pushing new leaves and buds and blooms. Every day on my walks, there’s beauty surrounding me. The tulip trees are especially dear, with these new baby leaves, furry like does’ ears, unfurling.

New tulip tree leaves, via Wikimedia Commons

It just hit me, watching this happen—slowly, slowly, but still the growth is there—how really astounding it is that a tree can make leaves and blooms and seeds. Think of it: the tree, a hard wood thing, somehow pushes out softness and color.

I suppose I could review the science behind it: phloem and xylem, was it? In any case it’s miraculous. There are channels within that rough brown case—it’s alive!

Did I ever tell the story of my cousin who was raised in the Caribbean? When she came to visit Indiana relatives in the winter, she was appalled to see all the “dead trees” standing around. “Why don’t you cut all those dead trees down?” she asked my dad, to his great amusement.

Sometimes what seems to be dead is only in a state of deep rest. Waiting for the right time to stretch up and out, touch the sunlight again.

What is unfurling in your spring?

New “Project” in Irvington

Posted on April 19, 2014 by Shawndra Miller

We went to check it out a new art gallery in our neighborhood last night.

5547 Project

We found that 5547 Project is not just a gallery–it’s a study in the art of reclaiming. The space itself is a repurposed industrial shop. Within are local artists’ works, plus furnishings made from natural and upcycled items.

Table made from railroad ties, with groovy antiques

We met the man behind the project, David Jackson, a retired Marine who wants to make the neighborhood rock even more than it already does.

David Jackson, founder of 5547 Project, with coral fountain and cool wall art

David brings a rotating cast of artists in each month, and every Friday serves local craft beer, wine, and refreshments. Last night’s opening featured Heidi Unger, a gardening buddy and stellar photographer. She’s the one responsible for the beautiful banner photo on this site, and several others you’ve seen around here, like this one:

Photo by Heidi Unger

My oil painter friend Rita Spalding also has her work up.

Some of Rita Spalding’s work displayed on reclaimed wood wall

Some of the artists also market handmade goods at the gallery. Cheryl Lorance (check her artwork out!) just moved to the neighborhood from New Mexico. Her line of skincare products is called Mount Sapos.

Sculptor Cheryl Lorance makes bathsalts, body butters, and soaps (local Traders Point Creamery milk is a key ingredient!) Displayed here on upcycled pallets.

David mentioned the possibility of opening weekdays with simple coffeeshop fare. I so hope he decides to do that. I can imagine this becoming a real neighborhood gathering place.

If you’re in the neighborhood, stop and check out 5547 Project!

Stop Collaborating

Posted on April 15, 2014 by Shawndra Miller

Photo by Mark Notarim, via Flickr Commons

“People ought to support mitigation and adaptation within their own line of work…If you’re a butcher, baker, ballerina, banker, or a plumber, envision yourself as the post-fossil-fuel version of yourself, and get right after it.

So…stop co-operating with the status quo. Stop collaborating. Stop being afraid and stop feeling helpless. Just stop all that and start living by entirely other means.”

—Bruce Sterling, from WorldChanging

A Remedy for Nature Deficit Disorder

Posted on April 8, 2014 by Shawndra Miller

Guest blogger Dawn Slack wrote the following piece about Letha’s Fund, a terrific program of Indiana Native Plant and Wildflower Society (INPAWS). The fund facilitates schoolchildren’s nature-based excursions and youth-led projects. I am always happy to hear the latest on Letha’s Fund, because my Dad, Donovan Miller, was instrumental in setting it up. Check it out, and lend your support in his name if you feel so led.

Guest Post by Dawn Slack, Youth Outreach Chair for Indiana Native Plant and Wildflower Society (INPAWS)

Kids initiated a garlic mustard pull with the help of Letha’s Fund

Knowledge Is Power

An essential INPAWS role is teaching our youth the value of our natural world, and connecting them to nature. Our members understand how nourishing it is to watch the sun rise and set, to set your hand in a riffle and watch water course downstream, to witness a flower blossom, or glimpse a dragonfly skimming the water’s surface.

We understand that experiencing nature enhances our ability to reason and solve problems. We know how being immersed in nature relieves our stress and energizes us.

We need our youth to understand these things too.

School outing at Winterhaven Wildflowers and Monarch Preserve

We Save Only What We Love

Our youth have little opportunity to bond with nature. Bombarded with technology that, sadly, discourages outdoor activities, they need encouragement and assistance getting outside.

In 2013 Letha’s Fund enabled almost 2,000 youth to visit natural areas or participate in outdoor experiences. And over the past five years Letha’s Fund has facilitated approximately 6,800 youth to learn about our amazing natural world.

Cold Spring students dig in, planting 400 plugs of forbs and sedges

Help Us Empower More Youth

Help us invest in a healthy future for our environment, one full of diversity and natural splendor, understood and loved by its future caretakers. Take a moment to learn about Letha’s Fund, share the flyer, and spread the word about such a wonderful program that is possible because of your aid.

Learn about Letha’s Fund on our website or send us your questions at lethasfund@inpaws.org or call us. Remember, knowledge is power. So pass it along, and help us help the next generation get into nature.

Harshman kids plant seedlings grown by Cold Spring School students with the help of INPAWS stalwart Donovan Miller (my dad!)

We will save only what we love;
We will love only what we understand;
We will understand only what we have been taught.

—Senegalese environmentalist Baba Dioum

All photos courtesy of INPAWS.

Postscript: To read my dad’s invitation to INPAWS members to share their love of nature with children, click here and search on “Expertise Not Required.”

Like to Eat? Thank a Bee.

Posted on April 4, 2014 by Shawndra Miller

Kate Franzman, beekeeper and urban farmer

Kate Franzman is one of many fabulous people who keep the “indie” in Indianapolis. Concerned about the die-off of honeybees, she started Bee Public with a goal of increasing the number of honeybees in our city. The organization has placed hives at several urban farms, including one right in my neighborhood.

She’s a writer too, and her first-person story is featured in the current issue of Indianapolis Monthly. I generally don’t shrink from bees myself, but her description of capturing a swarm as a novice beekeeper is truly impressive.

Swarm on a fence post in summer 2013. Kate scooped them by (gloved) hand into a box before transporting them to their new home at South Circle Farm.

Her passion for these pollinators leads her to give talks and workshops emphasizing their importance. “Since 2006, we’ve lost more than one-third of our honeybee colonies nationwide, due in major part to Colony Collapse Disorder, an alarming phenomenon that occurs when the bees mysteriously desert their hive and die,” she writes.

“One out of every three bites of food we eat was made possible by a bee. So no bees, no food.”

Kate and a few of the creatures on whom our lives depend

The unusually harsh winter killed all the bees in Bee Public’s hives, so Kate initiated a crowdfunding campaign to raise money to replace the honeybees. The response has been one of “unprecedented generosity,” prompting her to pledge to purchase replacement bees for other urban farmers and expand the network of hives.

On May 10 at Pogue’s Run Grocer, Kate will present Bees 101, an overview of how to create a bee-friendly backyard. And if you want to take it further, Bee Public offers consulting and hive setup for local restaurants, community gardens, and urban farms. There’s even a sponsorship option for people not in a position to have a hive. Check out Bee Public’s site and Facebook page!

All photos courtesy of Bee Public.

Pay It Local

Posted on April 2, 2014 by Shawndra Miller

In Ball State University’s Down to Earth documentary about sustainable food systems, renegade farmer Joel Salatin makes a key point about the importance of spending food dollars locally. A small amount of cash spent at the farmers market or local food store might make a huge difference to the vendors there. You never know what kind of difficulties they face, and where they stand on the thin line between a manageable load and giving up.

It’s kind of like paying it forward, only you’re “paying it local.”

Freedom Valley Farm’s high tunnel beds.

It reminded me of something I blogged some months back:

The row we plant might be just the encouragement our elderly neighbor needs to start seeds on a windowsill. Which might nudge her granddaughter to visit a farmers market and buy a farmer’s tomatoes, and one of those funny-looking squashes while she’s at it. Maybe she’ll come back in ensuing weeks and bring her children and a friend, buying more locally grown food. Which shows the farmer that his produce is desired, and keeps him from throwing in the towel after a tough summer.

Since I wrote that I’ve talked to many small farmers as part of my freelancing job, and I’ve learned that farming is more difficult than any nonfarmer could ever imagine. What they do requires a lot of faith. And people to buy what they’re selling.

When I interviewed Hoosier Organic Marketing Education (HOME) founder Cissy Bowman for a Farm Indiana story, she emphasized the critical role of the nonfarmer ally. “Never feel disempowered,” she told me. “As a consumer your opinion is the most important, because you’re the one who buys it.”

Our consumer choice is not even just about food. It’s also about keeping land out of developers’ hands. If farmers can earn a living wage, fewer properties will be snatched up and turned into subdivisions and shopping malls. That means more acreage for wildlife, native plants, and pollinators.

From the front page of Farm Indiana

The current issue of Farm Indiana contains two stories I wrote. One is about Cissy and HOME, a terrific nonprofit organization that helps farmers like Anna Welch with rural development projects and educates everyone about the importance of organics. The other is about Freedom Valley Farm, an Owen County operation that I thoroughly enjoyed visiting.

Jim Baughman showed me around his farm on a February day.

I can testify that Jim’s winter produce is among the best I’ve tasted. We’re talking melt-in-your-mouth spinach and juicy-crisp carrots. This guy is good at what he does, and he does it all without chemicals.

To read the stories, click here.

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Shawndra Miller

Giving voice to the world’s remaking

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