“We cannot protect something we do not love, we cannot love what we do not know, and we cannot know what we do not see. Or hear. Or sense.” – Richard Louv
Winter has come to the farm once again, and I’m looking forward to seeing some familiar faces during my daily chores, watering and haying the goats and closing up the chickens for the night. For the last few winters, at sunset, I’ve often found myself pleasantly startled by the flurry of tiny little bodies and gentle chirping of a flock of dark-eyed juncos as they surround me, landing in the junipers and pinyons and all over the ground at my feet. They seem to relish all the tiny little weed seeds that cover the frozen ground – lambsquarter, amaranth, purslane, mallow, kochia – plants often dismissed as “noxious” or “invasive.” I’ve come to love these plants, not only because they feed my winter chore companions when the land is so otherwise quiet, but also because I’ve learned how tasty and nutritious they can be for us humans as well.
I’ve learned to recognize many of these “weeds” in spring when they form a carpet of soft tiny little sprouts, in summer when they reach towards the sun with strong stems and tasty growing tips that end up in my frying pan, and in autumn when they droop down and ripen their seeds. In winter, they look like tumbleweeds and dried up sticks, but I know them by the little birds that come and eat their fill and sing to me.
It’s much harder to poison the land with herbicides after listening to the sound of a hundred tiny little juncos gratefully pecking around the ground under last summer’s “weeds” gone to seed, after watching native bumble bees ecstatically rolling around in early spring’s first dandelion blossoms, when you know that the very plants you would be killing create habitat for many of the tiny creatures of this world.
I also think our lives are greatly enriched when we find the time to say these “little hellos” to the world around us. It’s one of the most trustworthy paths I know for falling ever deeper in love with the particulars of the places we live in. It’s that kind of love, I believe, that slowly instills values in us, values that little by little help us to shape the world by the way we live our lives. It’s also so much fun!
If you need help with these “little hellos” or want to meet like-minded people, I invite you to come see us at Smokebrush Farm. We hold workshops and volunteer days where folks can come learn various aspects of the agricultural and culinary arts. Our CSA farm stand is open year-round on Wednesdays from 3 to 6 p.m. where you can find fresh produce, pesto, pickles, herbal medicines and tea blends, locally adapted seeds, nursery plants, art, and crafts, all grown and created in Manitou Springs. Our farm-to-table dinners have been a delight for all who attend, featuring food plants you’ve likely never dined on before! We also host EarthSkills club, where my friends teach regular classes on basketry, wool felting, animal tracking, fire by friction, hide tanning, bird language, wildtending, and so much more!
The farm is just a branch on the tree of the Smokebrush Foundation, where we are always busy with public art projects, cultural events, puppet shows, movement and music classes, and so much inspiration to fall in love with this earth we call home.
Learn more at smokebrush.org and follow us on social media.
