Sylvalchemy Grove Blog Post May 2026

May 23, 2026

I’m celebrating another elliptical orbit around the sun tomorrow, so I thought that this would be a good time to reflect.  I think it is important to take time in life to reflect.  It gives me time to process the experiences and learn.  I never want to stop learning!

We have been busy planting throughout the food forest and vegetable garden during the month of May. I like to think of planting a tree as a sacred act. Before placing it into the ground, I take a moment to look at the roots and literally connect with the tree. I try to plant it with good intention, giving thanks as it enters its new home in the earth. In many ways, I feel like the trees are teaching me as much as I am caring for them. They are teaching me patience, especially knowing that some may take many years before they ever produce fruit. But I am okay with that. There is something beautiful about investing in a future you may never fully see.

I hope Sylvalchemy Grove becomes a place that I can continue to nourish for the rest of my life, but I also hope it lives far beyond my years. So often while I am planting trees, I am surrounded by the constant sound of lawnmowers in the distance. It reminds me how disconnected we have become from the land and how much energy goes into maintaining landscapes that give so little back to the earth. The more I work on the grove, the less I want to use a lawnmower at all. My hope is that one day the land will be so full of trees, food, flowers, wildlife, and life that mowing becomes almost unnecessary. Planting trees and restoring the land feels like my own quiet act of rebellion, a way of caring for the earth at a time when it so desperately needs it. And as I work to heal the land, I often feel the land healing me in return. That exchange is the alchemy aspect of Sylvalchemy Grove, the transformation that happens between people and place when we begin to care deeply for the living world around us.

We have finally been getting some rain after a somewhat dry spring, and there is something incredibly refreshing about planting trees in the rain. I love it. The smell of the soil after rain is called petrichor, and walking around the land at Sylvalchemy Grove breathing in that scent, hearing the rain hit the leaves, and feeling completely immersed in the landscape awakens something ancient inside of me. It reminds me of the words of my favorite poet, Walt Whitman: “I am mad for it to be in contact with me!”

I absolutely love design challenges because that is what permaculture is all about!  Unfortunately, the late frost this year has devastated so many fruit growers in the region. One of the biggest challenges  I have been thinking about this month is a frost pocket on the property where cold air settles into the lower areas of the landscape.  Instead of fighting the problem directly, I’m trying to work creatively with the land itself. I am building a hugelkultur mound to function as a frost fence to help redirect airflow, incorporating a rock wall for thermal mass, and designing a pond nearby to absorb and slowly release heat. I’m going to be using bentonite clay for the pond instead of plastic liner.  I’m trying to observe deeply and think in relationships instead of relying on quick fixes.

Another challenge has been working with so-called “invasive” plants like Dame’s Rocket and mugwort. It is easy to label these plants as villains, but permaculture has shifted the way I think about them. They are opportunistic plants thriving in disturbed soil and edge conditions. We humans place the blame on plants, but it is really us that is the problem.  Humans create the disturbance and edges in which they thrive.   If they were not there, nutrients could be washed away with every rainfall. Their roots are holding soil together, cycling nutrients, and protecting the landscape. Before trying to remove them, I need to understand why they are there and what niche they are filling in the ecosystem.

The longer I work with the land, the more I realize that nature is always trying to heal itself. Every plant, insect, fungus, and animal is responding to conditions and participating in a relationship much larger than itself. I cannot impose my will on the landscape. Nature always wins. But there is something deeply humbling and beautiful about learning to work with those natural patterns instead of against them.

This journey continues to push me outside my comfort zone, and maybe that is exactly why I love it so much. Growth does not happen in comfort. It happens when we experiment, observe, fail, adapt, and remain curious. The grove is still young, and so am I in this process, but each season feels like another invitation to listen more closely to what the land is trying to teach me.

Most importantly, I am here to tell you that you can do this too!  If I can do it, so can you!  All you have to do is try!  Today is your day and the earth’s day!  Go make your land come alive!  Maybe you will awaken something inside of you in the process!