Authors: Intern

As a part of my intern duties, every two weeks I prepare and spray compost tea on our entire garden.  The "tea," prepared using a giant tea bag filled with 9 pounds of our own compost, among other things, is designed to harness the yummy bacteria, yeast, and other microorganisms living in our compost and distribute them to our fruits and veggies to aid in root growth, nutrient intake, and fruit production.

What I didn't realize when I signed up for this position is exactly how literal Malaika, our fearless garden manager, was when she said I had to spray the *entire* garden.  Although our ~1 acre of food and flowers doesn't seem much at first glance, it turns out there's much more area to cover than I might have originally thought.

The first time I sprayed compost tea, it was peak harvest season and all of our vegetables were growing in full force.  It took me almost 5 hours of slowly walking with a heavy backpack sprayer to cover 80% of the foliage and ground cover around the garden.  Though I had prepared for the worst, I found as I walked that I saw the garden in a whole new light.  Plots I had never seen before came into view - one covered in corn, squash, and beans in a "three sisters" planting in the Old Garden, which looked like autumn in early September; a patch of raspberries that was hidden from the rest of the garden that needed immediate care; a patch of lettuce that we had seeded upon my arrival now nearly ready for harvest.  Even better were the non-plant garden residents I had never seen before - a large number of bright green frogs on the huge leaves of cucurbits (squash, melons, and cukes), tiny garden snakes among the potatoes, and cats that even in the 5 weeks I had lived here I had never encountered. It seemed the garden was larger not just in physical size, but in its population.

Some argue the merits of compost tea, especially compared to the amount of effort and labor put into it.  Opponents claim that the microorganisms in solution are so dilute and widely sprayed that they would never make it to the roots and truly impact the growth of our plants.  I would argue that simply the act of giving time and attention - really, loving kindness - to all of our plants is enough to justify the practice, and love them I do.  After each batch, there is a little tea left over that can be given to my favorite crops as an extra snack - during my first batch, I gave it all to the tomatoes, which were producing heavily and in need of all the nutrients they could get.  Now that a frost has cut back tomato production significantly, I give big sips to our raspberries in the lower garden, the soybeans that I can't wait to steam as edamame, and the late planting of potatoes that need all the love they can get.  

I am grateful for the opportunity to witness the garden's evolution over these weeks, and to orchestrate the growth and happiness of the Tea itself.  Every batch we've prepared this year has tested with the highest levels of bacteria, yeast, and fungi possible - meaning that we are getting those lovely critters to all of our plants just when they need it.  In this photo, you can see a cross-generational collaboration for compost tea - Althea, our resident scientist at 2 years of age, *loves* the sprayer almost as much as she loves eating fresh veggies out of the garden! It really is an awesome opportunity for *everyone* (and everything!) that lives in and loves the garden to work together. :-)

Woolman students and interns alike are Harry Potter fanatics. It’s a constant conversation here on campus. For Halloween, we celebrated by creating the three Broomsticks pub here on campus and drinking butterbeer. Naturally, with the release of the new Harry Potter movie this week, the campus is abuzz with excited Harry Potter chatter. We’re all going to see the movie together tomorrow. And so, in honor of this special occasion, I have written the following:

The Song of the Woolman Sorting Hat

Our campus may be pretty,
But don’t judge on what you see,
We’re a community of incredible students,
Full of diversity.
If you seek an artist,
Dennis is his name,
His sketches and creative eye
Will surely earn him fame.
Annabelle, too, can capture a scene
With her camera lens,
Her desire to take pictures
Seems to never end.
If cake or pie is what you seek,
You can find Max mixing batter,
Due to Max’s baking skills
We’re all a little fatter.
If you seek peace and calm,
Just settle by the dining hall fire,
For Sage will be in to play her harp,
And fulfill your desire.
Or perhaps you’d like to spar with Keith
And expend some energy,
Beware his punch is powerful,
But unquestionably friendly.
Or maybe you’re looking for Chloe,
For you need a music suggestion,
She certainly knows enough
To point you in the right direction.
But don’t forget Marijke,
Our Hoosier solitaire,
But you’ll have to track her down,
Because she’s playing sports everywhere.
And if you need a rest,
Go find healer Kai,
He’ll grind you up some fresh herbs,
That work better than shut-eye.
Or maybe you are fascinated
With chickens and their eggs,
If so, Megan’s your girl,
She’s building them a new cage.
And if you need a break
From reality,
Go sit with Anna
And talk about Ron and Hermione.
Or perhaps you have an interest
In the compost we generate,
If so, just go find Patricia
And she’ll tell you its exact weight.
Or maybe all you need
Is a smile or a hug
All you need is to find Marie,
She’ll make you feel warm and snug.
At the Woolman School we have all types
And there’s room for every one,
So come! Join us!
Make new friends!
And start a journey that never ends!

I appreciate these two poems most when I read them together. 

The Life of a Day

by Tom Hennen 

Like people or dogs, each day is unique and has its own personality quirks which can easily be seen if you look closely. But there are so few days as compared to people, not to mention dogs, that it would be surprising if a day were not a hundred times more interesting than most people. But usually they just pass, mostly unnoticed, unless they are wildly nice, like autumn ones full of red maple trees and hazy sunlight, or if they are grimly awful ones in a winter blizzard that kills a lost traveler and bunches of cattle. For some reason we like to see days pass, even though most of us claim we don’t want to reach our last one for a long time. We examine each day before us with barely a glance and say, no, this isn’t one I’ve been looking for, and wait in a bored sort of way for the next, when, we are convinced, our lives will start for real. Meanwhile, this day is going by perfectly well adjusted, as some days are, with the right amounts of sunlight and shade, and a light breeze scented with a perfume made from the mixture of fallen apples, corn stubble, dry oak leaves, and the faint odor of last night’s meandering skunk.

A Ritual to Read to Each Other

by William Stafford

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dyke.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider--
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give--yes or no, or maybe--
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep. 

Since moving to the Woolman campus in August, I often wake up feeling excited and grateful to head to breakfast with such phenomenal people. But after spending a frightening and exhausting past few days in a hospital room with Jacob, the environmental science teacher, I feel an even more intense, deep gratitude for everyone here in the Woolman community. Perhaps the blog forum is a public space to express these feelings, but I simply wanted a venue through which to communicate a message to the whole Woolman community: thank you.

Since Jacob and I have been in the hospital, our two phones have literally not stopped ringing with calls and messages. In the five minutes before Jacob's surgery we received text messages from several different Woolman friends sending light and love.  This morning we awoke to messages beaming good energy and speedy recovery, and this afternoon we even listened to a voice message in which the other teachers and Dorothy giggled, sang, and sent well wishes for health and happiness during their staff meeting. Other interns have covered all of my meals, chores, and work without hesitation, and teachers, staff, and students are all rallying to make the curriculum run smoothly while missing one third of the teaching team.

To you all, I just want to say thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, from the tips of my toes. I cannot tell you what a world of difference it has made to both of us to feel so much of the Woolman spirit, energy, and love right here in our hospital room in Houston. Your voices, laughter, texts, and calls have filled us up with healing light and joy, and I cannot express how deeply I appreciate the light that you have given to us. Thank you.