Gardening has NOT been cancelled

A dear friend sent this to me a few weeks ago and I have kept it on my desktop ever since:

During relative seclusion and 10-hour days in front of a computer in recent weeks, I've made it a point to get outdoors -- safely -- and be around green things as much as possible. Though I did go into a bit of a weeding frenzy in the backyard garden after a couple brunch cocktails on Easter Sunday, most of my outdoor time lately has been spent at my school's garden. I think some days it's the best part of my week to spend a couple of hours shoveling wheelbarrowfuls of wood chips or digging up tenacious wire grass invading the garden paths. (It's a great workout, too -- thanks for allowing us to garden, Mayor Bowser.) I didn't even mind getting my shoes and pants completely soaked last week while repairing the drip irrigation system. Nor was I phased by getting sprayed in the face a few times on a warm, sunny afternoon as I fumbled to turn off the water source.

Many folks have walked past -- at a safe distance -- while I've been in the garden in recent weeks. Some of them have been kids and parents that I know, and who were excited to see that I was still nurturing the spaces they'd helped with earlier this school year. But many of the casual, garden-side conversations were with total strangers strolling past. A few stopped to ask how they might help, and a handful of them commented on how they pass by the garden regularly and are elated to see healthy, colorful living things thriving amid these times where it seems like all there is is bad news. (While I still support my local NPR station, I can't handle more than 30 minutes of news a day these days.) Gardens are a sign of hope, proof that life continues, and plants can nourish our bodies and souls.

Since I technically can't invite any of you to join me in the garden in person, let me offer you some virtual good news for your soul by way of the garden video I made for my students a few weeks ago. It is my first official stint on YouTube, but luckily I am behind the camera for most of it:

Yes, I love being in the garden. But when it comes down to it, nothing is as fun or rewarding as gardening with kiddos. I hope we can get back to this soon:

The (incr)edible schoolyard

Welcome to Day 1 of my week-long California adventure. This morning found me back at Alice Waters' original Edible Schoolyard project. It was amazing to revisit this most beautiful and extensive school garden, tucked away in Berkeley. Having worked in the field for nearly six years since Ollie and I passed through here on our cross-country bike tour, I was even more impressed than I was the first time around. Imagine that!

I picked up my visitor's badge in the school's main office a bit after 11am, then wandered out to the garden to poke around. When I asked them a couple of questions about their interaction with the green space, two middle school girls hanging out at the garden's long picnic table proceeded to give me one of the best garden tours I've ever had. After tasting some delicate yellow raspberries growing near the entrance, the girls walked me past the espaliered apple orchard and excitedly told me about pressing the fruit into cider the previous autumn. We strolled past the in-ground beds of swiss chard and brassicas, with a stop to admire the gorgeous dahlias (my new favorites) as we made our way to see the chickens cavorting around the straw fort students had helped to construct in the far corner of the outdoor space. We continued on to the chicken coop to check for eggs, admired the orderly tools around the shed, and then explored the greenhouse, where I examined the remnants of last week's seedling sale on tables that students had built.

My impromptu guides led me next to the bee hive, apologizing that the usual veil and gloves were not around for me to borrow so I could take a closer peek. (Yes, kids are invited to check out the honeybees on their own. Pretty awesome!) After that, we meandered to the school-built outdoor prep tables and stone pizza oven, where eighth graders annually prepare and bake their own pizzas. The young people have become much more involved in garden work and construction than seemed to be the case during my last time through, and they sure are proud of this... as they should be!



As if I wasn't enamored enough, my teenage guides led me next through a tunnel of grape, kiwi berry, and passion fruit vines. "Certainly more prolific than my own school garden's vining fruit," I muttered, mostly to myself. California weather and four garden teachers certainly help things thrive around here. Still: impressive. We ended our loop back near the entrance, where I admired the outdoor worm bins and rustic kitchen setup.



With a friendly wave, my guides were off to class, and I was left wondering if one of my own gardens might be as impressive one day. Something to ponder during lunch tomorrow at Chez Panisse with my friend (and kind local host) Colin....

Minding our peas and queues

So I've been a teacher in some official capacity on and off since the early 2000s, initially working with high schoolers, then middle schoolers, and finally a handful of years ago I began to focus on elementary school aged kiddos. The past year has been my first foray into working with preK students and let me tell you that while I was initially a little nervous about my ability to create and teach meaningful lessons to kiddos who still can't tie their shoelaces, I've found that 3 and 4-year-olds are a LOT of fun. I find that there is a lot more singing and dancing and hand holding (literally) when I work with my youngest garden stewards and cooks at Tyler Elementary. They are definitely the best students in the school at making a straight line to go outside to the garden, but that's not all....

We've had lessons where we imagined we were seeds sprouting in the soil, soaking up the sun through our leafy hands and water through our rooted feet. We've pretended we were tender lettuce and hardy kale growing out in the garden beds -- which one do you think enjoyed our long, cold winter? We've shaken up our own homemade ranch dressing and devoured it drizzled over salads the size of our respective heads. We've made seed balls with native flower seeds. We've dug up a bed of potatoes....

I must say, more than any other group I've worked with, they are the best at patiently looking for camouflaged snap peas, helping to schlep plant bits to the compost bin, and being willing to taste just about anything in the garden. I can't wait to see how they (and our garden) continue to thrive in coming years!

Are you a worm expert?

It's funny, I've composted at home for a handful of years now, and tried my hand at worm composting at least twice, with mixed success. But to the 1st grade FoodPrints class I was assisting with at SWS this morning, I seemed to be one of the authorities in the room.

"Are you a worm expert?" young Isabelle asked me as she crumbled coconut coir into our homemade, two-level bin. I tore up some more paper bag scraps as I considered this new title.

"Well, I know that worms breathe through their skin," exclaimed her table mate, Evan, "so that makes me kind of an expert!" He had a point.

I wonder what makes someone an expert at anything, really. I mean, I am pretty darn good at changing flat tires. And improvising ways to lash an inordinate amount of stuff to my bicycle. I can prepare a meal out of seemingly incompatible ingredients -- take my chicken, chickpea, peanut, and coconut milk stew I tossed together last week for some personal chef clients: delish!

I suppose by the time I got through working with the fourth group this morning, I was a worm expert. I could talk about slimy skin and a lack of teeth and not letting the bedding get too wet with the best red wiggler authorities out there. Especially if my colleagues are 6 years old.

I can't wait to start a bin with 1st graders at Tyler Elementary in a couple of weeks. Viva la vermiculture!

At your service

Up until about a month ago, I'd never heard of a serviceberry. Thanks to a passing comment from the nature-loving, Michigander vice principal I work with, now it's one of my favorite plants ever. If I could resist devouring the berries the instant they're picked I might be able to come up with a recipe for them beyond "eat out of hand." They look kind of like blueberries, but I think taste closer to black currants. In short: they're delicious. And abundant right now.

According to Better Homes and Gardens -- which is not my usual go-to garden resource guide, mind you, but their snapshot in this particular instance makes a good case for why you should run out and get one to plant at home -- "Serviceberry is rare in that it offers interest in every season. It kicks off in spring with beautiful white flowers, which develop into tasty purple berries that attract birds in early summer. Or harvest the berries and use them to make delicious jams, jellies, and pies. The plant's bright green or bluish green leaves turn stunning shades of red and orange in fall, and its silvery bark offers winter appeal. You can grow serviceberry as a large shrub or small tree."

Wouldn't you know it, there are 4 of these berry-laden small trees at the school garden I maintain a few days each week. And I am clearly not the only one who loves them....

How can we get kids to eat more fruit? Plant serviceberry trees in their schoolyard. Nice work, Tyler Elementary outdoor classroom team!

Guide for hire

I keep getting talked into organizing garden tours by bicycle....

Earlier this week, my friend Sam cajoled me into leading a group of environmental educators who were in town from all over the country (and two from Canada, which I suppose makes it an international conference) on a relatively low-key, 4.5-mile tour of school gardens around Eastern Market. Still groggy after returning from San Francisco about a day and a half prior, I agreed. Maybe it was the jetlag talking, or the compensatory lunch I was promised. (What can I say, I have a soft spot for Chipotle's veggie burritos. Sam knows this.) Despite the severe lack of sleep and the impending rainstorm and the head cold I was nursing, I'm so glad he did.

After all kinds of adventures trying to locate their bus to bring them down from Baltimore, and then worse than usual delays on the beltway, fifteen members of the North American Association for Environmental Education arrived almost exactly an hour behind schedule.  They met us at Union Station and saddled up on their rental bikes. After a few minutes of introductions, we hit the road.

The group was wonderful: enthusiastic, curious, appreciative, observant. And they all wore their bike helmets without me having to harass anyone even once. Imagine that!

We visited four schools around Capitol Hill, climbed on found material structures at some, snacked on fresh dips and salads at others, and celebrated what I hadn't realized were quite the cutting-edge garden programs at Watkins, School Within a School, Peabody, and Capitol Hill Montessori. Oh, no, I knew these were all cool gardens with great teachers -- they were chosen as highlights of the DC school garden scene, after all -- but it was interesting to hear how they compare to programs and gardens in other places. DC school gardens rock.

I daresay I'll get talked into another one of these soon. Oh, look, I already have been: the first event for Healthy Schools Week is, you guessed it, a school garden bike tour. It should be pretty fun.... Come join!

DC school garden bike tour: summer 2013 edition

Get some air in your bike tires and some oil on your chain. Grab that helmet and water bottle. It's back, and it's going to be even better (and certainly bigger) than ever before. Yes, it's another school garden bike tour!

After the previous school garden bike tour (this past fall), the BicycleSpace and OSSE and school garden peeps got to thinking: why not take the ride to the next level? The idea this time around is to not only raise awareness about a handful of awesome school gardens but to then help to raise a bit of funding support their amazing work.  I mean cash money. Not a lot, but a bit. (It all goes to the garden project -- promise! Your friendly neighborhood food educator is helping to organize this gratis.)

It all starts at BicycleSpace @ 11:30am -- a perfectly reasonable hour to be riding a bicycle on a Sunday, don't you think? The group will share a tasty, free breakfast. At the final school, thanks to a generous donation by our local Slow Food chapter, we'll transplant seedlings grown by the wonderful Farmer Kristin over at Radix Farm into raised garden beds at one of the schools. In between, we will learn from each school about a project they need to accomplish in order to make their garden an even better learning environment.  As the tour goes on, you'll want to keep in mind which school inspires you the most, or looks to have the most potential, because at the last school, over a delicious free lunch around 2pm or so, BicycleSpace will request donations. Then we will all vote on which school's project will receive all of what has been collected.  You will decide which school will benefit. (Bam! There's a direct democracy in action for you!)

Space is limited so sign up here.

Okay, so, yes, it is technically free, but I'd encourage you to donate if you are one of the 80 cyclists on the ride....

DC School Garden Bike Tour

Because I can't say no, apparently, a couple of months ago Sam over at the State Superintendent's office talked me into leading this year's DC School Garden Bike Tour -- the concluding event of Growing Healthy Schools Week. (Because DC Farm to School Week and DC School Garden Week 2012 were, go figure, the exact same week, somebody decided to combine the two. Incidentally, I also led two hands-on cooking classes for with students from Oyster Bilingual and Cap City Charter School for GHS earlier that same week. More on those entertaining lessons coming soon.)

[Photo courtesy of fellow cyclist, Jaqueline Hammond]

I could not have pulled it off without the help of my friends Kealy and Ariel, whose logistical and moral support proved invaluable as schools and routes shifted... again... and again... and Kenton, who fearlessly joined me on test rides between the schools, including that terrifying stretch that we decided to circumvent after white-knuckling it across the river on decidedly bike-unfriendly East Capitol. (Flashback, anyone?) I should know from the last time that organizing a group bike outing is like herding cats, but once again, on the day of the ride everything came together.

October 20th was perhaps the perfect cycling day -- bright, sunny, warm (in the sun), and with a bit of a breeze. More than 40 folks showed up at Kelly Miller School, the first of five of the finest school gardens our city has to offer. The majority of these folks joined me for the biking version of the tour that I led through Southeast and Northeast DC. Also included on the tour was Prospect Learning Center, winner of this year's "Golden Shovel" award (largely due to the inspiring essay written by one of the students, which I got to hear firsthand at the Kid Power celebration dinner a few nights later.)

At each stop, a garden manager or parent spoke about the green space's history, what was growing, and how students (and in some cases, staff) engage with the growing spaces. Most had raised garden beds bursting with vegetables and herbs, some had pollinator gardens. A few were specifically geared towards students with various physical and learning challenges. Some were integrated into the curriculum, while others were used primarily for after school programs. Each had a story to tell of challenges and successes. In truth, I think the story of the ride is best told by the video, shot by Francis over at BicycleSpace:


Special thanks to Jordan, whose bike-along stereo system made the bike tour the most fun thing ever. Nothing like 80s tunes to pep up an already great day. I may have to insist that all bike tours I organize going forward include a bikeable boombox. (Yep, I'm sure I'll get talked into organizing another one. Maybe a Bike the Breweries tour this spring?)

The Physical Club

I learn something every day. Or a few things. Like today.

This afternoon marked my second session back with the middle schoolers at Drew Freeman since the holiday break. The garden club project originally started with me being hired this past fall to teach a series of 12 after school lessons on sustainable living. I found myself falling in love with the students and the possibilities at this most unusual public middle school in Prince George's County right around the time I was asked to continue leading (and expanding) the club. How could I resist such a bevy of kale munching, beet craving, plant loving pre-teens? I can't. And once we take a final vote on our club's name, you'll fall in love with them, too, I bet, when you read all about our adventures in planting and cooking on the blog we'll be setting up. But I'm getting ahead of myself. First we need a name.

The motley crew of 7th and 8th graders have over the course of the past 4 months been alternately referred to as The SMILE Club, The Urban Farming Club, and the Garden Club, and gosh darn it, I'd been thinking lately, it's about time we chose our own name. Something that really solidifies for us -- and for the increasing number of interested folks dropping by to see what we're up to -- what it is we are all about. (Beet Freaks? They do love beets more than anyone ever could have anticipated. The Drew Garden Crew? Wooh, good thing I'm not the one doing the naming here....) The whole process of students brainstorming names for themselves was very telling. I tried not to smile too maniacally as I scrawled possible names they'd generated in their journals onto the chalkboard and asked them to explain their ideas: The Green Group ("because we're doing stuff to help the planet"), Going Green ("because we recycle and stuff"), The Cooking and Planting Club ("because that's what we do"), The Green Squad ("um, well, you know, we care about green things and we work together"), E.F.G. (The Eco-Friendly Group), and, admittedly my favorite, The Physical Club.

"Why did you suggest The Physical Club?" I inquired of the mild-mannered student who'd volunteered it.

"Well, Ms. Vincent," James smiled as he straightened his glasses, "it's because we do stuff here. We're not just home sitting on the couch." Yep, sometimes we do some pretty physical stuff in this program. Remember hauling the dirt for the raised beds in early November? I definitely broke a sweat.



Of course. They get it. This club is about doing things. Building things. Growing things. Recycling things. Reusing things. Cooking things. And making our world a little nicer. And, yes, some days are quite physical. Like today, as we collected, arranged, and zip-tied a 2-stage compost bin for our garden. Let me tell you, those pallets were heavy. (Don't be fooled by Nigel's smile, he was really working here.)



It took a bit longer than I'd anticipated as students and teachers measured and troubleshot -- what, it's a word (or should be, if it's not) -- and rearranged the wooden sides again and again until things lined up, and after zip-tying the whole shebang together and starting off the base layer with the remnants of our sprouted seed trays from the classroom, we at last headed back indoors to clean up and warm up and do a little cooking.



Look at the contentment on our faces. That's one good lookin' compost bin.

Next we'll be shredding up the cardboard boxes I've been stockpiling in the classroom to start mixing in with the food scraps we sort after snack time each week. But you'll have to read about that in our club blog... name TBD.

Walk on down to Walker Jones Farm

I spent almost the entirety of this weekend out of doors. Boy, do I need to do that more often.

Saturday was a marathon barbecue organized by my dear cousin Sonia and her husband -- ostensibly to celebrate their daughter Ani's first birthday, but the occasion conveniently provided the largely Armenian/Ukranian crowd an excuse to consume a seemingly endless supply of grilled pork, roasted potatoes and peppers, and vodka on an almost impossibly beautiful day.

Sunday morning, after my ritual trip to the farmers' market, I biked over to K and New Jersey, NW, for a long overdue visit to DC's second urban farm. While Ollie and I got a little turned around on the ride over -- I have yet to work out why I always seem to miss the turnoff to K Street after it merges with Massachusetts Avenue when I cut through Chinatown -- I arrived about a half hour into the community workday. Within ten minutes Sarah had me weeding the cabbage rows. One group was building tomato trellises. Another was digging holes for herb transplants. The largest group was loosening soil and tilling in piles of peat moss to prepare the ground for berry bushes. (Blueberries in particular prefer more acidic soil, and peat moss is a common, organic amendment to lower soil pH. Don't say that you never learned anything here on the bikeable feast blog, eh? And speaking of learning, I should mention that the farm is as much focused on food and garden education as on sustainable production -- it's a project after my own heart.)

A bit later, after a luscious chocolaty, coconutty cupcake nearly sent me into sugar shock (I don't each much sugar these days), I somehow ended up in charge of tomato transplanting. After Sarah gave me a rundown on the process, I began to demonstrate and delegate tasks: clearing the mulch, mixing in organic tomato food, digging holes, filling the watering can, snapping off the bottom leaves, planting up to the bottom leaves, watering.... Some have leadership thrust upon them, you know? Those were the most meticulously planted and staked 20 tomato seedlings this city has ever seen.

Actually, I missed the final step -- staking the tomato plants (which encourages upward, rather than sprawling, growth) -- because Sarah sent two of us off in her station wagon to pick up blueberry bushes. Allon and I made our way to the hardware store, loaded up 4 different varieties of ready-to-fruit bushes, and made our way back to the farm. (Note: even by car I am unable to work out the K St/Mass Ave conundrum. I wonder some days how on earth I made my way around the country....) By the time we returned with the trunkful of shrubs, most of the 20 or so volunteers had made their way to part two of The Awesome Foundation's day of support for Walker Jones: a happy hour fundraiser. (BTW, I am somewhat obsessed with The Awesome Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to supporting all kinds of cool, local projects through small grants. And now there's a chapter in DC....)



So here's Sarah, just before she and I planted the newly acquired blueberry bushes into the freshly acidified, loosened soil. I actually missed the happy hour -- dang, and I'd been meaning to check out Passenger Bar for some time now -- but when we finished up around 3:30 I figured it was time to get myself to Mike's place for some late afternoon gardening there, where I am the official edible garden adviser. (More on Mike and Alicia's urban homestead to come in a future post.)

Now that I know how to get there, I plan to make my way back to The Farm at Walker Jones with some regularity. You can come, too. Check out the beautiful urban food growing space, meet one of DC's friendliest urban farmers, get your hands in the dirt. If you're lucky there may be a cupcake or a tshirt in it for you. (Not that you're doing it for the tshirt. The donated cupcakes, however, may themselves be worth the trip.) Open volunteer days are on Sundays from 12-4pm and Thursdays from 3-6pm. Hope to see you there soon!

Tabula rasa

After my time visiting the original Edible Schoolyard (ESY for short) on my way through Berkeley, CA, I was excited to see what its first attempt at replication would be like in the markedly different climate -- both socially and seasonally speaking -- of New Orleans. Before I sat in on a few classes last Wednesday, I was lucky enough to have a chance to speak with Kelly, the school's ESY community outreach staffperson (and, ahem, AmeriCorps alumnus), about the program's origins and other Louisiana-specific aspects of the program at Samuel Green.

It turns out that the original public school was in dire straits a few years ago and the school board had more or less thrown its hands up in exasperation. After a series of fortuitous conversations and almost impossible good fortune that included a chance meeting with Alice Waters (who founded the original ESY and who was looking for a way to reach out to the post-Katrina New Orleans community), the founders of a high performing charter school across the city agreed to take over the troubled school. The new charter school's program was essentially built from scratch -- a tabula rasa, as it were -- with a chunk of money from Ms. Waters and the steady support of the community. (For those readers who were not in my NY Teaching Fellows professional development sessions, "tabula rasa" means "blank slate." Jim, stop shaking your head.) The Edible Schoolyard NOLA folks were determined to develop strong lessons that built on Louisiana state standards -- a move that helps lend legitimacy to the gardening and cooking education program that has been criticized by some as taking students away from important lessons on things like memorizing the US presidents in order or diagramming sentences -- and I believe the school is the stronger for it.

The lessons that the California school garden program used didn't translate well to the New Orleans setting. This is not to say that the lessons at the Berkeley ESY were poor, but the school had more leeway. I didn't have an opportunity to sit in on classes there, but I did get the distinct impression that the curriculum was just recently starting to be more structured. (And for the record, I am not all about rigid "structure" or "standards." Heavens no. But as a former public school teacher, I also know you are asking for trouble if you don't have a solid lesson plan or can't justify a nontraditional educational activity. Also, many of the kids seem to respond well to classroom rituals and consistent expectations.)

At Green, the garden lessons for grades 1-8 are closely tied in with science class, while the cooking lessons are (quite creatively, I think) linked to history coursework. Every class is slated for 16 sessions each in the garden and kitchen (which works out to four times per quarter in each space). So while the 1st grade class that I observed conducted group activities related to plant cycles -- having seen the garden during different times of the year, there was much to notice and discuss as they planted flowers and collected seeds -- the 7th grade class reviewed people, places, and documents of the Civil War before cooking up steaming tureens of New England clam chowder and saute pans with traditional southern shrimp and grits. (My stomach started grumbling near the end of the lesson as students and teachers sat down to share the communal meal -- complete with flowers, napkins, and ice water -- so I had to hotfoot it down the street soon afterwards to get myself a shrimp po' boy. Not exactly sustainable, but local and delicious.)

While I did not have a chance to speak with the teachers at Green, I was impressed by the creativity of the lessons and the focus of the majority of the students as they joyfully (as much as 7th graders allow themselves to be joyful) undertook their assigned tasks. It's a very different model than, say, the School at Blair Grocery, and yet both tap into the potential for personal and community growth via food-centered experiences. Pretty fitting for a town known for it's culinary heritage, agrarian roots, and distinct populations.

I'm not saying I'm moving to New Orleans, or that I'm looking to jump back into a classroom full time just now, but what a place to teach!

Reading, writing, and 'rugula

It all started with a return phone call this morning from Linda. Not a wedding photographer by trade, though she'd agreed to take pictures for Meghan's wedding last weekend, I learned that the artist generally photographs wildlife and, more recently, organic farms and community gardens all around the Houston area. (What luck!) Linda, unperturbed by the babbling of the bridesmaid with the bike glove tan, shared some of her thoughts on community strengthening through gardening in the region. It was she who directed me to Urban Harvest (a local nonprofit that cultivates farmers' markets and community gardens) and encouraged me to get in touch with the folks involved in developing school gardens in the city. It was almost lunchtime on a Friday, but I started making phone calls....

I spoke first with Susan who filled me in a bit on the history of Urban Harvest and its partnerships with local schools. She talked me through the financing, development, and management of the gardens: it seems the work has grown from the inception of the original 3 gardens years ago and quite a few now have transitioned from after school projects (largely funded by 5-year 21st Century Community Learning Center grants) to programs integrated into the school curriculum, some with their own paid, part-time staff. From local community grants (like those from Home Depot, Shell Oil, and Chase Bank, as well as small businesses) to school budget allotments for garden instructors, funding for these programs continues to shift as the outdoor learning spaces thrive beyond their initial start-up phase. At the conclusion of our conversation, Susan recommended a few interesting school garden models right in my neighborhood. Well, within a 30-minute bike ride, anyway.

[Sidenote on biking in this town: I've learned pretty quickly that Houston is not so biker friendly. Automobiles don't seem to acknowledge the faintly marked bike lanes or the clearly posted "Share the road: bicycles are vehicles, too" signs. Probably hard to see them over the giant truck hoods. And why, in a city so dangerous for cyclists, does nobody wear a helmet?? I've been here over a week and I can count the number of bike helmets I've seen on one hand. End of rant... for now.]

After a quick stop by the post office, Ollie and I arrived at Travis Elementary, supposedly the oldest documented school garden in all of Texas. Principal Walker (not a Texas Ranger) welcomed me to the campus and introduced me to George (parent of two Travis students, professional photographer, long-time Urban Harvest garden volunteer, and part-time staff gardener at the school) who happily showed me around and explained how the gardens had grown over the course of many years. The parents and PTA have been avid supporters, he told me, and with the principal's blessing George exercises quite a bit of creative oversight of the green space between the teacher parking lot and the classrooms. There are dozens of raised garden beds -- considerably more skillfully designed than my first attempt in Meghan's yard (though I am rather proud of it) -- and the beginnings of an orchard. There is a small outdoor amphitheatre. George shared his plans for a fish pond, an interactive environmental data collection center (with a computer, electronic microscope, and camera linked to classrooms and the internet), and a project to develop a series of mini ecosystems to foster a wide variety of wildlife. The sky's the limit, the plans are drawn... now it's just a matter of patience and garnering funds.

As things stand now, each class has a raised bed to cultivate. So does the maintenance and kitchen staff. George is hoping to involve neighbors, inviting them to start small plots and help manage the garden during summer months when school is out. Truly, it is a place of beauty, learning, and community. While we strolled about, a teacher brought her class of fifth graders out for a ladybug hunt: apparently the auditorium was overcrowded with students showing off their "science super hero" costumes and she wanted to give her kids a little peaceful outside time on this beautiful afternoon. See, these are exactly the kinds of impromptu learning experiences that successful school gardens allow. The students excitedly but respectfully inspected each garden plot for the elusive aphid hunters and at least twice a student shyly approached us with a question about a particular plant in the garden. "Is that crazy looking flowering one a broccoli or a brussels sprout plant?" one girl ventured. It was the latter, though they're closely related. (Seriously? I'd never even seen brussels sprouts growing on the plant until about two years ago. This kid was at least 20 years ahead of my own learning curve. I am humbled, yet again, by a ten-year-old.) A bit later, George showed me one of the butterfly gardens, including a simple wooden trellis he'd constructed after noticing monarchs building their chrysalises on similar beams near the garden shed. The hope is that the butterflies will populate the beams outside the classroom window, where students are learning about monarch butterflies in science. I departed with butterflies (of the excitement variety) in my stomach.

With less than an hour left in the school day, Ollie and I hit the road again, this time for Helms Elementary, where a veteran science teacher had found herself talked into spearheading a school garden and wildlife preserve more than a decade ago. Welcoming me with a big hug -- I love huggers! -- Lindy asked her colleague, Mary (a longtime community volunteer at the school and active member of the gardening team), to show me around while she got the students set up for a review session in the computer lab. (Next week is the big statewide science exam for fifth graders. Let the record show that I am refraining from ranting about the ludicrous nature of high-stakes standardized tests... for now.) Mary showed me around the vegetable garden and guided me around the wetland preserve. An engineer had seen the pond's small wooden bridge a few years back, I learned, and insisted that he design another one that allowed students to see the water and turtles underneath... a sturdy metal walkway now stretches over the waterway. Mary then introduced me to the turtles and explained recent trouble with the overworked water pump... a plumber friend had volunteered to help fix things, but it was going to be a few weeks, she confided. While there have been a series of small grants along the way, it turns out that most of the supplies and expertise have come from friends, neighbors, and local businesses. Now, isn't that how it should be? (Kind of reminds me of the Noyo Food Forest's successful community partnerships.) Much of the garden building had been done by students and volunteers, I later learned from the science teacher, with most of the heavy lifting courtesy of juvenile offenders doing community service hours. Rather than being phased by their prominent tattoos, Lindy was overjoyed by the strength of the young men. (It's all a matter of perspective, she laughed.) There are plans here, too, for expanding the gardens little by little, funding and leadership permitting.

Lindy, Mary, and I chatted for another hour or so as students tutored each other in the humming computer lab. By five o'clock it was time for Ollie and I to head out. I was hungry and also excited to capture some of what I'd learned today in writing. Food education is slowly taking root in Texas, and the kids are clearly thriving on reading, writing, and a little romaine. (Which is good, because history education is taking a nose dive: the board of education just cut Thomas Jefferson out of the textbooks last month. Ah, Texas....)