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One Farm at a Time

What a week at Opal’s Farm! We have everything in for fall and winter and have started taking out spring leftovers, rebuilding beds, and solarizing them for weed control in the spring. We finally took out our tomato plants, but not before harvesting about a hundred and fifty pounds of tomatoes – and it’s ten days until Christmas. We love that a hard freeze hasn’t come yet, but we’re also a bit worried as this is another indicator of how strange our weather has become.

The weather is a “frienemy” for farmers – it brings the rain that helps the crops grow or the drought that kills them off. It’s the one thing we can’t control. We may do a rain dance or pray a freeze holds off until the crops come in, but in the end, the weather does what it will.

However, even weather has things it can’t control either – a warming climate changes the weather – leading to warmer average temperatures and more intense weather events. The intensity of our North Texas summer over the last two years is an example. In 2022, the heat came early, and the rain stopped. There was no rain from June 3rd until August 29th. It was much the same this year        with 2023 being the second hottest year on record according to the Texas Tribune and NOAA. Moreover, when it finally did rain, it rained so much and so heavily that Opal’s Farm suffered flash floods both years.

Hardiness Zones – the zones which show the lowest temperature in a zone and determine the growing season – have gradually moved northward. According to Yale Environment 360, hardiness zones were moved northward from 1990 to 2012 and are moving at a rate of just over thirteen miles per year. The heat is headed northward. Fort Worth has shifted from Zone 8b to Zone 8a. What and how much we grow changes as the zones move north.

So, What Do We Do?

Opal’s farms about two-and-a-third acres at present. We are growing into the full five acres granted to us by the Tarrant Regional Water District. We don’t expect to see major changes, the amount of land is negligible in the grand scheme of things. However, there is something we can do that’s consistent with our core values of resilience and regeneration.

First, we can continue to research and try non-native (but non-invasive) varieties of food crops that are both heat tolerant and drought resistant. Our salad mix uses Tokyo Bekana along with other Asian greens. Tokyo Bekana looks and tastes like lettuce (some say even better) but it’s actually related to Chinese cabbage. It fares much better than traditional lettuces that can only be grown in early Spring or late Fall. It can be grown year-round in North Texas.

We use this same practice on other crops as well. We are slowly beginning to turn to south Asian foods like bitter melon, bottle gourds, and yard-long beans. The beans are quite prolific and love the summer heat.

Secondly, we never leave exposed soil. Cover cropping is essential. Always have living roots. We are finishing up cover cropping all all non-food crop beds. We use Austrian Winter Peas and Elbon Rye in the winter time. Legumes like the peas fix nitrogen into the soil and the rye’s root system keep the soil broken up and able to retain water and oxygen better for the soil microbes. We use various mixes that we purchase from Green Cover Seed in the warmer months.

Finally, we sequester carbon in the soil. Our biointensive beds are no-till while the remainder of the farm is minimal till. Dr. Omar Harvey, with the Geosciences Department at Texas Christian University, had students researching carbon sequestration at Opal’s Farm beginning two years ago. The explanation of the methods used is several pages long, so I’ll not bore you with the process, but the results are important. Dr. Harvey’s students were able to quantify the carbon sequestered away on the farm and found it to be 168 metric tons per acre.

Why is that important?

It’s important for two reasons. One, the research confirmed not only the amount but the type of carbon – deep carbon. When the carbon is sequestered deep in the soil it stays there and is less likely to be released into the atmosphere. The carbon sequestered in the upper eight inches of soil is still available for the plants which is a winner for both the climate and us.

Our Sugar Snap Peas are blooming and will be available shortly!

I have mixed emotions about the second, and most economically beneficial, reason – that being the figure for carbon credits.  At four to five dollars per metric ton Opal’s could generate anywhere from nine to eleven hundred dollars per year in extra revenue. Alternative revenue streams are a must for small farmers.

However, the alternative here seems to be a bit of greenwashing. The idea that a company such as an airline can use carbon credits to meet their climate “goals” while continuing business as usual is somewhat opaque in nature. The bottom line however is that carbon is sequestered and can offset the gases released into the atmosphere. The more regenerative agriculture practiced, the more carbon stored away and an alternative income stream for farmers doing what they do naturally.

Whether for the economic benefits or for the common good, regenerative agriculture can play a large part in facing the climate crisis. Next Spring, we are attending classes to become Carbon Farm Planners. Agriculture can be part of the solution and the more we know the more equipped we are for positive change.

We may not be able to change the weather, but we can do our part to adapt and bring healthy, nutritious produce to Fort Worth and fight climate change in our little piece of Texas. As Ms. Opal often reminds me, “Be a committee of One”. I remember Dad telling me that “everybody complains about the weather, but nobody does anything about it”. Being a Committee of One, one small urban farm, is doing something about it. Join us in the fight. As Mother Teresa said, “If you can’t feed a hundred people then just feed one”…

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Christmas 2023

Time goes by far too quickly these days. It’s difficult to believe that December is here. It seems like I was planning Spring crops just a short while ago. It’s almost time to do so again. The seventy-five-degree high predicted is a reminder of that. Just so you all know, we still have tomatoes at Opal’s Farm. The first freeze hasn’t hit us yet. We get the “heat island” effect from being so close to downtown…

Today is one month since my last cigarette so I guess I can’t really call this “Thoughts From the Porch”. I’ve stayed away from the front porch and concentrated on the back yard outside my office. It helps with the cravings. The main thing that helps with the cravings though is the near-constant praying to stay smoke-free. So far, so good, and so much for the news updates…

The holidays are tough for me. My son, Jeremy, was born on Christmas Day. I’ve had difficulty with the holidays since his passing – so much so that my wife started calling me the Grinch last year. I try to show some Christmas spirit but I’m not successful at faking it. I’m hoping I can do better this year.

I’ve been especially blessed to be far more involved in my grandchildren’s life this past year. I’ve been able to spend more time with them than ever before. I’m not always sure they appreciate it as much now as they’re both young teenagers – why is it teenagers rarely give more than one-word answers?

Spending time with them is such a gift and sometimes, a curse – at least where grief is concerned.

They are both very much Jeremy’s children. Lucas looks so much like him that it brings tears sometimes. His mannerisms are – a constant reminder of Jeremy. Izabella, or Simone as Jeremy called (her middle name is Simone after Nina Simone) has every bit of his wit and often, sarcasm. Together they are amazing. My daughter-in-law, Amber, has done an amazing job raising them and getting them through losing their dad. She and I can share our grief that still comes in tidal waves at times.

But back to Christmas…

I’ve had a lackluster approach to Christmas since my parents passed away, especially Dad. He was Mister Christmas. It was his favorite holiday. He made the season special; especially where my boys were concerned. Much of that had to do with my parenting or lack thereof and my addiction had a lot to do with that. Still, he was my Christmas light and I enjoyed participating each year.

After his passing, Christmas was not as big of a deal. My mom moved to an apartment in a Senior Living Center so big celebrations rarely occurred. The last years before she passed in 2017 she moved to Atlanta to be near my sister. I always hated the idea of trying to find a gift for Mom. She was extremely hard to buy for and her body language often revealed her disappointment in my gifts. (***side note – she told me that my sobriety and my relationship with God were the best gifts I could’ve ever given her.)

When Jeremy died, the best thing about Christmas became January 2nd as it would be in the past and I had survived what felt like unbearable grief. I’ve shared that with my wife (as if she couldn’t tell) and she’s always been understanding. This year has been different. I came home from work the other day and she told me that I needed to become Mister Christmas. It was my turn. Dad and Jeremy were no longer there, and the tradition shouldn’t die with them. My grandkids needed me to be that very thing. I think my wife needs that too.

Christmas was never a religious holiday for me. I grew up in the Church of Christ and they didn’t celebrate it as Jesus’ birthday because that’s not in the Bible – which begets the question why they didn’t celebrate Easter because we know what that date is, but I digress… It was significant to my wife though and now the holiday needs to be special for my grandkids as well.

When I finish writing this, I will climb the attic stairs and pull down the Christmas tree and decorations. I’ll rearrange the living room to accommodate the tree and place it where Margaret, my wife, can enjoy looking at it. It’s likely I’ll shed a few tears as I place Jeremy’s ornaments – both the ones he made and the ones we were given over the years – on the tree. I’ll brave the tangle of lights and let Margaret direct the decorating. Afterwards, I’ll turn on the lights for all of us and pray that I can be Mister Christmas this year. I’ll swallow my sadness and allow the grief to come when I’m alone. Christmas is about everyone else anyway and I’ll not deny them that.

I won’t lie about my feelings. God made sure of that. I was at a recovery meeting recently and met two other people for whom grief is all too real. One gentleman lost his wife. The other lost her seventeen-year-old son to an overdose in May. I can seriously relate, and I can offer support and an ear because I’ve three years of experience to offer. I don’t have any answers, but I can be present for them while they search for their own. God has a way of turning tragedy into something – I don’t want to say something positive – but an opportunity to show His love and grace – to love others better.

My sponsor and friend Jim told me a long time ago that helping others and being there for others was the best way to find peace. Maybe that’s what comes this year. I hope and pray it comes for all of us.

Merry Christmas everyone…

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From everyone at Opal’s Farm – We wish you a Happy Thanksgiving full of God’s love and bounty. Please think of others and how we can all be of service to our fellows. More than anything else please enjoy family and friends and be thankful for all we’ve been blessed with. Life is such a gift. What we do with that gift is how gift to God.

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Too Late to be a Good Samaritan

Fall is normally my time for self-introspection. North Texas summers usually keep that habit away – one can only think of finding air conditioning! It’s been above one hundred degrees for most of the summer with constant excessive heat warnings. Nights have stayed above eighty degrees since the first week of July so there’s little relief when evening comes. Most of North Texas is in severe drought. I suspect the media is right when they refer to this as the “new normal”. The sad thing is that everyone seems to accept it and do little to mitigate the problem, but that’s another blog post…

Back to reflection…

It was 111 degrees according to my truck thermometer when I left the farm. I cranked the air conditioning and headed to the house for a Zoom meeting. It was a brief hour break on a hot summer day to enjoy the AC, grab a snack, and change out of sweat-soaked clothes. I headed towards the turn to Interstate Thirty and there he was – lying next to the entrance ramp – sun beating down on him a mere three feet from the shade of an overpass. He was on his back and his arms outstretched slightly to the sky above. He was in the direct sunlight with shade only a couple of feet away. It was obvious he wasn’t merely sleeping. He was dead. His arms were stiff, rigor mortis had set in, and his body bloated from the afternoon sun.

One officer from the Fort Worth police came followed by the Tarrant County Medical Examiner’s van. I stayed long enough to give a statement and notice all the cars going by. How long had he been there, and no one noticed, or cared enough, to stop and call 911? I remembered the parable of the Good Samaritan. I guess I wouldn’t qualify here. I didn’t get here soon enough. I wondered what I would’ve done if I did…

The crime scene tape was never put up, no investigation made, and the ME loaded the body to take back to the morgue. The whole affair was over in about thirty minutes. The police seemed put out that the ME was taking so long. Just another homeless guy. No signs of violent trauma so time to get on to more important things like the comfort of air-conditioned squad car.

The scene has been seared on my brain ever since. I can’t help but wonder who the man was – what was his name, where was his family? Few people are totally alone in this world although many feel that way. He was somebody’s son, maybe a father, or maybe a brother. Would they find his family and report his death? Would he be missed? Would anyone grieve over his passing? Would anyone care? The news came on that evening. No one talked about the passing of another homeless person. I wasn’t surprised. Anonymous dead homeless guys simply aren’t newsworthy.

The farm is close to the night shelter and Union Gospel Mission. The city has worked hard to isolate the homeless (or more PC – “unhoused”) population to the “mission district”. Still, there’s far more homeless people than there are beds. Around the bend in the river there are several acres of thickets between the old drive-in and Gateway Park. There you’ll find several homeless camps and their number is growing every year. If you look closely, you find camps all around the city – under bridges, wooded areas, abandoned houses. The Tarrant County Homeless Coalition reported that “more than 5,000 households experienced homelessness throughout 2022 in Tarrant County” (Fort Worth Star- Telegram, February 13th, 2023).

We often have some homeless folks who make their way along Trinity Trail above the farm. They will occasionally ask for a bottle of water or rest in the shade of the farm’s only tree. Sometimes they carry on loud, and sometimes angry conversations with people unseen by us. Mental illness accounts for a significant portion of the homeless population. Panhandlers covered all the main intersections from the freeway to the farm. It’s easy to look past them; to avoid eye contact and hope the stoplight changes before they approach the car. I know. I’m guilty at times.

I’ve been praying about that a lot the last couple of weeks. I’ve been in their shoes and yet I forget all about them when my life got back on track. Suddenly, I’m too busy “doing good things with the farm” to notice them, to really see them, or to have a kind word. I become the priest or the Levite in Jesus’ tale of the Good Samaritan. It’s not that I don’t care. I’m just in too big of a hurry and don’t want to have any distractions from the day ahead. I have important things to do – at least in my own mind – and I fail to see Jesus right in front of me (see Matthew Chapter 25…?). Nothing is too important to not to see and acknowledge the divine in each of God’s kids.

Joan Osborne recorded a song in 1995 that resonates with me today especially. It reminds me that I can see God everywhere. He might even be panhandling on the street corner.