Reader, this was intended to be an update of Lodestar Gardens activities. However, it turns out to be a story I want to share with you.

One morning eight years ago, I was standing in our garden harvesting for our Saturday Farmer’s Market 20 miles down the road in our nearest large town. The early August sunlight was starting to spread over the sea green garden beds as I bent down and opened the leaves in order to check the size of a cauliflower. Was it ready to harvest, to be pulled from the soil that had been its birthplace since March of that year? At the moment I pulled back the leaves, the sun found the white, rippled, mature flesh of this Snowball Cauliflower. It was like a flower bouquet, and then it seem to take on the character of an alien brain, alive and fascinating. Yes, it was ready for harvest. I pulled out my garden knife and found the proper place on the stem to sever it, but I just couldn’t get myself to cut it from the huge skirt of leaves that had protected it all summer long. I just couldn’t hand this beautiful flower that had managed to collect the nutrients from soil we had worked so hard to develop over the past ten years, to collect the right amount of moisture during drought days, to collect enough strength in its stem to stand tall against buffeting spring winds, to collect enough life force to become food for us. That was what stopped my knife from severing the stem. This cauliflower grew for us . . . yes, us . . . not for a summer tourist who probably had many Farmers Markets at home to shop from. 

I put my knife back in my pocket and made a decision right then and there that we would only share food with members of our own family and village. Clark agreed enthusiastically. We would do our best from now on to support other growers—classes, workshops, tours, presentations, consultations, articles, and most importantly, inspire collaborations with residents and our many homesteading newcomers. If we were going to mine and replenish our soil every year, plant starts, nurture seedlings until we transplanted them into the roulette wheel of summer weather conditions, we will transfer their life into us, our family, friends and village. 

We have been selling to our neighbors in Apache County ever since. We organized a grassroots food co-op with five other neighbors and have been growing year round since 2012. Co-op members grow with us while they learn high desert gardening at their own homesteads, and leave when they feel confident to start their own co-ops with other family members, neighbors, church groups, etc. Now we have four mini co-ops in our immediate area growing food for themselves. This little postage stamp area of Arizona has the potential to become a food hub. Is this a selfish attitude and practice? What if this idea serves as a template for other growers? What if we start a Plantdemic of our own, one household at a time becoming self-reliant, self- governing, reconnecting to the land, growing our neighborhoods and the values that grow with community?  I think back fondly on that moment when the morning sun showcased every beautiful wrinkle and crevasse of that cauliflower. I’m ever so grateful that I stopped long enough to hear nature ask questions of me and inspire my head and heart.

Our next step will be for co-op members, past and present, to coordinate our growing plans in order to create greater variety and abundance. With more food we can sell our surplus to others at a vegetable stand and grow a portion for our local food bank. This isn’t a new concept, but truly it is time to resurrect the idea of empowerment. 

The Most Important Question to Ask

We’re back to add one very important feature in Lodestar Garden’s evolution—a deep commitment to the concept of homesteading. While we talk about growing food a lot, there are the other essential components in creating a self-reliant and regenerative lifestyle.

So what is homesteading? Our operating barebones definition is this:

We practice 8 components of homesteading:

• food and energy production,
• conserving water,
• efficient shelter construction,
• diligent animal husbandry,
• a commitment to recycling waste,
• a philosophy of respectful land stewardship, and
• community networking.

Now the first six topics are the chop-wood-carry-water parts of the homesteading lifestyle—essential skills. The last two are the soul to it. To have the first six skills without developing the last two aspects results in an imbalance in one’s energy and will.  We have seen the exhaustion, frustration, and disillusionment grow in folks who failed to ask some very important questions before they rushed out of the city to seek a brand new life. Here is a question we ask of people who come to our farm and express a desire to build their own homestead. Once a person has a grasp of what homesteading entails, this is the most important question to ask before looking for land:  

“In your mind, what is the difference between farming, homesteading and country living?”

The response to this question usually inspires the person to do more research, re-assess their resources, energy, and motivation. In other words, how many of the above homesteading components are you capable or willing to do by yourself? How primitively can you live and still be healthy, and most importantly, happy? How much buy-in do other members of your household have? Are you more inclined to work with the help of other households? To what extent do you want to collaborate with others? Do you want to focus on food production for yourself? As a means of livelihood? Farming? Do you simply want the peace, privacy and beauty of living in the country, but do not have the desire to build, develop and maintain an energy system, or grow your own food. Country living without the maintenance? 

We are committed to providing you the information and experience you need to answer these essential questions.