Nature is a flourish of activity. All that seemed asleep and dormant is awake and stretching, sweeping colors and excitement across our landscape. Spring, not the date March 21, but the real spring that makes you want to eat life, is early this year, about two weeks early. The forsythia are in bloom as well as apple blossoms, quince blossoms and many of the fruit trees that supply fruit on our tables from late summer through winter. I even saw bumble bees in the red and pink quince blossoms. All these flowering bushes and trees make New England beautiful. Let’s hope we don’t get a serious frost. I am sure many orchard farmers are a little worried about it.
I love spring, its promise of life and in the Blue Heron the first real sign of spring are the salad greens from Ricky and Deb, known by many, as Seeds of Solidarity Farm. These greens are a far cry from the organic greens from California we use in the hard, frozen winter months. They are delicious with a vibrancy that pop and dance in your mouth. I love their salad greens because they are delicious, but I also love them because I know the farmers and their farm.
About a year before we opened 15 years ago, when the restaurant was still a dream, I was out walking on a hot summer’s day when I met a neighbor, Ricky Baruc. Ricky is muscular and sinewy, lean and wiry, not to tall about 5 ft 8, his handsome face well chiseled. He wears his passions in his bones. His dark hair is buzz cut and his hazel eyes intense. Sometimes he has the look of a monk and sometimes a terrorist, but he usually smells like a farmer, a mixture of soil and sweat. We did not know each other well, at the time, but we walked and talked for about an hour sharing our dreams. Ricky wanted to return to organic market farming and to the soil, selling his produce to restaurants; I wanted to open a small restaurant, “a farm to table” restaurant where I could feature Ricky’s dream produce and the great produce available in our area. Fate, or just neighbors being in the right place at the right time, I don’t know, but Ricky and his wife Deb are our friends doing their dream and Barbara and I are doing ours. We walk in each others paths and help each other as we go. Ricky and I joke that we are brother and sister from another mother, so to speak, having traveled together in past lives.
Ricky, Deb and their son Levi and their farm Seeds of Solidarity have been our primary vendor for baby salad greens, kales, chards, arugula, beet greens, mustard greens, tatsoi, tomatoes, baby turnips, garlic scapes, pea greens and various other vegetables since we opened in 1997. In April, our salads, with his greens, practically jump off the plate, after a winter of organic greens from California. Customers notice the difference immediately and we know the season has truly changed when Ricky drives up in his “French Fry oil” bio diesel truck. They provide us with all these gems from April through November.
Ricky does the farming and Deb runs the education, non profit Seeds of Solidarity Education Center. The focus of the education center is to work with disenfranchised youth, giving them skills to cultivate food and a hopeful future and their philosophy is to grow food everywhere. Deb is a strong, beautiful willful and contemplative woman who looks like an Indian or Turkish princess with olive and tanned skin and black curls down to her shoulders. Her arms and legs are muscular from years of growing a farm.
Seeds of Solidarity is the Hallelujah Chorus of biodiversity. It is surrounded by forests except from the road entrance. Upon entrance, signs begin to inform the guests of Deb and Ricky’s reverence to life, land and people. Each garden and green house is named for people and animals that have inspired, taught and given. There are two large gardens on upper fields when one first enters and guests are asked (a sign) to park and walk down the dirt drive to their home and the larger area of farming. Nelson Mandela is the first garden name I noticed on a visit last fall. After the upper fields, the forest is on either side and there is a small brook. As I began to come into the cleared light I saw the array of fields, greenhouses and shades of growing colors. I heard a radio or tape of a man’s voice reading or speaking and I saw legs moving back and forth in a green house covered in shade cloth, rolled up on the sides. The green houses, open at the bottom and ends allowed air and moisture to flow in and out. The legs were Ricky’s and he was watering a new bed and listening to a CD of SPEAKING the LOST LANGUAGE OF GOD Awakening the Forgotten Wisdom of Prayer, Prophecy and the Dead Sea Scrolls. I stood and watched him move back and forth preparing the beds for seed. The greenhouse was a cacophony of color, food, richness and life as the sun light filtered through. There were full rows of mustard greens abutting tatsoi next to beet greens, touching lettuces, meeting arugula, rubbing elbows with pea tendrils. It was a joyful, intensely happy green house and its name, Mahatma Gandhi. Ricky and I hugged a sweaty hug. Names of the other green houses are Cesar Chavez, Wally and Juanita Nelson (local anti war tax resistors and organic farmers fro the 60s), and Dalai Lama. The gardens are dedicated to Rachel Carson, John Lennon, Jackson and Jasper (two fine dogs), David Tate, Molly and Daisy Craig from Rabbit Proof Fence, and of course Nelson Mandela.
Ricky thinks the best teacher for farming and solar power is nature, he tells me that the cutting edge of solar science is the study of how plants photosynthesize the sun. I have no idea but he definitely knows a thing or two about solar because the farm and house are 100 percent solar. Their house is a hand built hay bale house.
The upper fields which were in existence when they purchased the land had very good soil, the same soil that covers most of this valley but the lower fields were not so good. Ricky needed to make good soil and he did. University of Massachusetts soil testers have declared their soil some of the best anywhere. This “off the chart” rich soil was great news for Ricky and Deb, first because it meant that they could farm and secondly because it gives immense hope for simple ways to renew depleted soils. Their method for creating this absolutely no till soil is fairly simple. They use cardboard and compost
allowing the worms and microbes to do their soil magic. They open up an area for farming by covering it with organic matter (compost) and then cardboard. It takes about 6-8 months to clear and make ready for seed. He realized he could plant right through the cardboard. Although he has raised beds, his cardboard method means he does not have to continue doing raised beds as often. He is an organic farmer, but not certified.
Ricky responds to questions about his methods by saying that the soil and forests know more than we do. Gesturing toward the surrounding forest he says that the forest grows without our help. No one tills the soil and daily new organic matter is added to it by the life and death cycles of all beings in the forest. His model is ancient and radically new.
As I left on that visit, he walked me to my car. We stopped at a circular garden where a sign reads:
“We are Sephardic and Ashkenazi Jews of the Diaspora on the Land of the Pequoq people. May we honor all traditions and come to realize that all life is sacred. May you go in peace.” In this small garden is Emir Wheat (the first wheat) from the holy land, Narragansett Corn from Rhode Island (our first local flour corn) and Tobacco.