Blog

Since its inception four years ago, Tri Cycle Farms has both provided for and empowered the community. As we continue to build community through soil, we invite you to join us. Your support can help us grow the next level of our outreach to produce and distribute sustainable, naturally grown food, but most importantly community empowerment!

In order to expand our efforts, we will are asking for your support to hire a Farm Manager, pay for two Arkansas GardenCorps service members, and transform our Community House into a neighborhood Food Hub.

Check out how YOU can become a supporter and grow our community through soil!

 

 

 

Read more: https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/tri-cycle-farms-community-through-soil#/

 

“Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like?"...

"It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine...” 

― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

Spring is here, ya’ll. The daffodils and forsythia are in full bloom. Rain is a daily tease. Dead nettle, chickweed, dandelion, and clover have burst over the so-recently-bare garden, claiming territory and accenting the new green with purple, white, yellow. Life returns, at first a bit tentatively, then as if magic overnight.

It feels good to be back in the garden, to feel the sun warming my skin and the damp earth under my bare feet. All the girls at the farm have sun-kissed cheeks and dirty nails, and it feels just like it’s supposed to feel.

The first day of April- some cloud-cover, warm, moist air, the perpetual sense that it was about to shower. We got to the farm early and raked the straw off a few beds, exposing soil that has long been protected under a thick layer of mulch. We loosened the soft layers with a broad fork, delighting over the gigantic worms we found. It never gets old. We added some fresh compost and minerals, feeding the soil so that it will feed the plants that feed us. After gently forking in the nutrients, we raked the beds flat and got to seeding, planting lettuce, carrots, radishes, beets, mustard and spinach, arranging them in rows and blocks, imagining how they’ll look in June. We again covered the beds with straw, but lightly this time, just enough to keep in moisture while still letting sunshine seep through. It is all about balance. And today, the rain will fall. Maybe.

          “The mountains’ bones poke through, all shoulder and knob and shin.  All that summer conceals, winter reveals… To sleep, spiders and fish; the wind won’t stop, but the house will hold.”
-Annie Dillard

It’s snowing for the third time this week.  Ten days ago it was 75 degrees; we were sweating like mad, digging beds and catching earthy whiffs of spring.  Then winter said, “Shhhhhh.”

Winter is a mother.  She is strict, quiet, and measured.  But she is also tender toward those she loves.  I’ve fought her most of my life, but she remained.  While I’ve fussed, she has held me against her brittle, bare bones, saying, “Shh, shh, shh, child.  Trust me.  You need this sleep.”

Seasons have their reasons.  Winter asks rest of us.  That we go inside (our houses and our selves), take stock, pause and sit a while.  There is a space for friendship that yawns wide in winter months—because when else would you share a quilt across laps.  When else would you linger quite so long over a cup of tea.

Here at the farm the land feels pregnant and about to pop—buds and shoots and waking perennials.  “Shhhhh,” says Mama, and blows in a snow to settle the children.  The birds put their songbooks back in their pockets.  The forest critters push the snooze button.  “Not yet,” she says, and what choice have we but to listen?

We started some seeds.  We dug some beds.  We saw the crocuses pop up and said, “Well, I guess that’s it!”  We always speak too soon.  The Ozarks love to remind us of that.  Someone once asked me what the state flower of Arkansas was.  I said the apple blossom.  She said, “Nope. It’s the frozen daffodil.”

Leafing, fruiting, and producing all year would be a weary thing.  This respite is a kindness.  As the snow falls silently on you tonight, let it stay you.  Let your anchor down into the deep quiet.  Don’t fear what winter will ‘bare’ in you, the way she bares the trees and the ground.  Just trust her process.  Spring comes soon enough.

Tri Cycle envisions a world with food security, sovereignty, and sustainability for all.

Let’s be honest, ya’ll. These are big issues to tackle. We’re living in a state with one of the highest rates of food insecurity in the nation. 43% of the people within a one-mile radius of the farm are living in poverty. How can we even begin to realize this vision?

We believe that the best approach for our organization is to focus on our neighborhood- to make concerted, localized efforts that transform the community around the farm. By creating a replicable neighborhood model, complete with gardens, urban livestock, and a small farmer’s market, we hope to create a ripple effect that reaches beyond this neighborhood. We hope, more than anything, to inspire others to start their own projects that address food insecurity.

This third year has been a busy one, full of milestones, and we are looking forward to all that the coming year will bring. Just this past Sunday, we turned the soil (thanks, Dan Coody!) for both the market garden at the farm and the soon-to-be community garden at the North Creekside Apartments down the street. Both projects will aim to inspire and teach people how to grow their own food. We hope you’ll join us in these gardens and find your own inspiration!