Our 9-year-old surveyed our garden and turned to look at me. “Mom,” he said, “it’s like you finally figured it out this year!”

It was a well-intended compliment, and it made me chuckle at the blunt, sweet way children speak the truth. To the naked eye, he is right. Our garden has certainly never looked better. But what he doesn’t know, or maybe doesn’t remember, is the work we put in the past years. Record temperatures and days over 100 degrees in the middle of a drought didn’t make for an easy task. But it was a noble one; a hopeful one. To be a gardener is to invest in the future. It is a courageous act that says; what is today is not what will be tomorrow, and that the future will be better. Today, we could all use a little more of that. 

I started gardening during my battle with Lyme disease. There was so little I could do physically, so many things I had to say, “not right now.” The garden was the opposite; it was new, it was hope, it was investing in the future. And like so many things, something happened that we did not plan - the garden became part of our culture as a family. We grew strawberries, watermelon, tomatoes, broccoli, many, many herbs, and flowers. The pollinators in the garden revived a failing pear tree, which soon provided shade in the summer heat. We shared so much delight and wonder in a hard season of life. 

This is our 3rd year of intentional regenerative gardening in our home. This means we don’t use chemical pesticides; our fertilizer comes from composting, decaying wood, and other plant biomass like cactus. We companion-plant and use cover crops to help with pests and water retention, and we rely heavily on pollinators for abundant yields. We also use a Hügelkultur, or mound gardening method, in our garden beds. Our limestone-rich soil in San Antonio, plus the dry, hot weather, means we need an abundance of carbon and materials that retain water to prevent the soil from becoming water-resistant. 

The first year of regenerative gardening, we didn’t really notice a difference; we felt like we were constantly adding soil to help fill the mounds, plant roots seemed shallow, and we were always adding compost to help with yields. The second year was a little better; less soil needed to be added to support the mounds as the internal matter began to decay. We were graced with a swallow-tailed butterfly, and her lovely offspring hatched, cocooned, and transfigured in the shelter of our pepper plants. We grew potatoes for the first time, and we found a way to shelter cucumbers in the heat. 

This year, finally, something happened in the garden: an anole (small green lizard) made its home protecting our tomatoes, the butternut squashes are thriving, the strawberries are sweet and delicious, and the blackberries are finally self-confident. I’ve lost count of all we’ve grown between January and now. A hummingbird checks on the garden nightly, and the bees are always busy in the morning. Ladybugs are here, not because we released them in the past, but because they found us. The soil is black (almost an anomaly in Texas) from the inner work of the Hügelkultur. And the material inside should last us for another 2 - 3 years. 

We find ourselves drawn to this green space. It literally sings, and we delight to listen in. We are not expert gardeners; we are always learning something new. But we are devoted ones. We are courageously, hopefully, consistently investing in a better future. We feel connected to our land, our little half-acre. There is much to do, and there is much to enjoy. 

Slow and intentional is not flashy; it doesn’t ask for attention or recognition, but oh does it compound. Whether in our home garden, on our partner’s regenerative farms, or in our nutrient-rich foundational foods, year by year, the impact is there layer by layer. Topsoil is increasing by ¼ inch per year on one of our partnering chicken farms; third-party testing showed a 20x increase in the nutrient density of a partner farm’s regenerative beef vs conventional. And to our delight, but not surprise, customers share daily the cumulative impact of adding nutrient-rich goodness in their lives. 

Thank you for joining us in this, day by day, sip by sip, sear by sear, jar by jar as we courageously and consistently invest in the future together. 

FONDly,
Alysa