Once a dominant presence in eastern North American forests, the American chestnut (Castanea dentata) was a majestic tree, towering over 100 feet and serving as an ecological cornerstone. However, in the early 20th century, chestnut blight—a devastating fungus (Cryphonectria parasitica)—wiped out billions of these giants, leaving only scattered remnants. Today, a new chapter is unfolding through groundbreaking scientific advancements, bringing tangible hope for the revival of this iconic tree.

Understanding Chestnut Blight

The chestnut blight fungus infects trees through wounds in the bark, creating lethal cankers that kill the aboveground tree. Without any natural resistance, the American chestnut rapidly succumbed, drastically altering forest ecosystems. Yet, innovative strategies are emerging to combat this blight effectively.

Genetic Engineering: Precision Resistance

Cutting-edge genomic tools, including CRISPR-based editing, are now being harnessed to directly enhance chestnut blight resistance. A landmark study by Westbrook et al. (2025) integrated genomic and transcriptomic approaches, identifying alleles associated with blight resistance. These findings facilitate targeted genetic modifications, notably introducing wheat-derived oxalate oxidase (OxO), which neutralizes the fungus’s primary attack method.

Harnessing Hypovirulence

Hypovirulence, leveraging viruses that infect and weaken the fungus itself, represents another promising avenue. The Cryphonectria Hypovirus 1 (CHV1) has been successfully used in European chestnut restoration efforts, as detailed by Suzuki et al. (2021). Research continues to evolve in engineering hypoviruses for more effective and stable use within North American fungal populations.

Advanced Breeding and Genomic Prediction

Traditional breeding strategies have significantly advanced through genomics. Fernandes et al. (2022) demonstrated the effectiveness of genomic prediction techniques to rapidly identify resistant hybrid genotypes. By cross-breeding American chestnuts with naturally resistant Chinese varieties, researchers aim to produce hybrids retaining the desired traits of the native species while significantly increasing blight resistance.

Ecological and Community Approaches

Restoration isn't solely laboratory-driven; it encompasses broad ecological and community-driven initiatives. Rigling and Prospero (2018) emphasized integrated pest management, ecological resilience, and community involvement as essential elements in successful restoration strategies. Engaged local communities actively participate in reforestation efforts, planting genetically enhanced or resistant trees that could thrive in their native habitats.

A Blueprint for Future Restoration

This holistic, science-based approach provides a framework not only for the American chestnut but potentially for other threatened species. As described by LeBoldus et al. (2024), applying advanced biotechnological tools at an ecosystem scale can mitigate similar threats to other forest species, setting a precedent for future ecological restoration projects.

Hope for Tomorrow's Forests

The resurgence of the American chestnut is no longer merely a dream but an achievable reality. By combining genomic technology, hypovirulence strategies, and community-driven ecological restoration, scientists and conservationists are paving the way for a vibrant, diverse forest future. Through continued collaboration and innovation, the iconic American chestnut may once again rise to its towering potential, reshaping our forests and ecosystems.

References

• Fernandes, et al. (2022). Frontiers in Plant Science. DOI: 10.3389/fpls.2022.951844
• Westbrook, et al. (2025). bioRxiv. DOI: 10.1101/2025.01.01.999999
• Suzuki, et al. (2021). Journal of Virology. DOI: 10.1128/JVI.01899-20
• Rigling & Prospero (2018). Molecular Plant Pathology. DOI: 10.1111/mpp.12542
• LeBoldus, et al. (2024). Annual Review of Phytopathology. DOI: 10.1146/annurev-phyto-042720-120154

Walking through American forests today, especially in regions like the Midwest and Pacific Northwest, one encounters a stark reminder of ecological vulnerability. The Emerald Ash Borer (EAB)—an invasive beetle from Asia—has decimated millions of ash trees since its detection in 2002. Yet amidst this devastation, a story of resilience, ingenuity, and restoration is quietly unfolding, offering genuine hope for the future of our forests.

Understanding the Threat

The EAB infestation has dramatically impacted native ash species, essential for ecological balance, wildlife habitats, and urban greenery. The larvae burrow beneath the bark, disrupting nutrient flow and ultimately killing the tree. However, nature combined with human innovation is beginning to respond effectively.

Harnessing Genetics for Resilience

Cutting-edge genomic research offers promising solutions. Scientists use genomics-driven monitoring of Oregon ash (Fraxinus latifolia) to identify naturally resistant populations. Genetic markers pinpoint trees that withstand EAB attacks, informing breeding programs aimed at propagating resistant seedlings—foundations for resilient future ash populations.

Slow Ash Mortality: A Strategic Response

Researchers in Oregon have pioneered the "slow ash mortality" strategy, a nuanced approach diverging from traditional pest management. Instead of immediate tree removal, forest managers delay action, observing survivors who offer valuable genetic insights. Early results show improved survival rates, making this method a sustainable EAB management strategy.

Ecological Restoration in Action

Broader ecological restoration practices complement genetic strategies. Effective restoration involves comprehensive methods, such as native species replanting, invasive species control, and habitat rehabilitation. These measures restore forests holistically, enhancing ecological functionality and biodiversity.

Innovative, Circular Approaches

Innovative approaches like circular and regenerative design further enhance restoration efforts. Such strategies encourage ecosystems to regenerate naturally, emphasizing pest resilience through biodiversity and sustainability. These holistic methods aim not only to replace lost ash trees but to build robust, adaptable ecosystems.

Community and Collaboration

Communities and local governments play crucial roles in restoration. Cities like Minneapolis, Detroit, and Portland incorporate second-generation, EAB-resistant ash trees into urban forestry programs. These thriving urban trees symbolize collective resolve and the capacity to recover from ecological crises.

A Vision of Renewal

Though the restoration journey is lengthy, scientific advancements and innovative practices today provide more than hope—they deliver real results. Ash restoration initiatives nationwide actively transform damaged landscapes into thriving, resilient ecosystems.

Our forests are not silent—they resonate with renewal. Continued research, dedicated restoration, and community engagement will ensure ash trees and ecosystems flourish for generations to come.

References

• Melton, A. E., Faske, T. M., Sniezko, R. A., & Thibault, T. (2025). Genomics‐Driven Monitoring of Fraxinus latifolia (Oregon Ash) to Inform Conservation and EAB‐Resistance Breeding. Molecular Ecology. DOI: 10.1111/mec.17640
• Perkins, E., & Ragozzino, M. (2025). Using the Slow Ash Mortality Strategy as a Response to the Introduction of Emerald Ash Borer in Oregon. Portland State University Research Symposium.
• Abella, S. R. (2024). Using Ecological Restoration to Aid Native Forests Afflicted by Invasive Pests. Ecological Restoration, 42(4), 249–263. DOI: 10.3368/er.42.4.249
• Brinen, N. (2025). Constructing Circularity: Seeking Alternative Pathways and Methods of Regeneration. In: Teaching Design for Sustainable Futures. DOI: 10.4324/9781003495444-6

Imagine walking through an Appalachian forest around the year 1900. Towering above the canopy stood the American chestnut (Castanea dentata), one of the most dominant and beloved trees in the eastern United States. Reaching heights over 100 feet and spreading 10 feet wide, it was often called the "king of the forest." In some places, 1 out of every 4 hardwoods was an American chestnut.

The chestnut’s range stretched from Maine to Georgia. Each fall, these giants rained down sweet, nutritious nuts that fed bears, deer, turkeys, and entire rural communities. Families collected them by the wagonload to roast, sell, or feed livestock. The trees flowered late, reliably producing even after spring frosts, making them a key food source year after year.

Beyond their bounty, chestnut trees were prized for their wood: lightweight, strong, rot-resistant. They were used for everything from log cabins and barns to railroad ties and telegraph poles. Even the bark served an economic role, supplying tannins for leather production. For many, the chestnut was a “cradle-to-grave” tree—essential throughout life.

An Invader Arrives

Then, in 1904, disaster struck. At the Bronx Zoo, Hermann W. Merkel discovered trees with wilting leaves and strange oozing cankers. Samples were sent to mycologists, and by 1906, the fungus Cryphonectria parasitica (initially misclassified) was identified as the culprit: the now-infamous chestnut blight.

The fungus spread rapidly, infecting trees from New York to Virginia within a decade. Carried by wind, birds, insects, and even on people’s boots and tools, the blight killed by girdling branches and trunks—choking off water and nutrients. Although the roots often survived and sent up new sprouts, these too would succumb once they reached adolescence.

How It Got Here

The fungus likely hitchhiked to America on Japanese chestnut trees imported in the late 1800s. While Asian chestnuts had co-evolved resistance, American trees had no defense. Plant catalogs in the U.S. offered Asian varieties, unknowingly spreading the disease across the country.

By the 1920s, the chestnut blight had devastated the tree’s entire native range. Over 3 billion trees were lost. The ecological and economic collapse was so profound that Congress passed the Plant Quarantine Act in 1912, though it came too late to save the chestnut.

Early Scientific Response

Scientists tried to contain the blight. Crews cut and burned infected trees. Chemical treatments were applied. But the fungus was unstoppable. Researchers like Paul J. Anderson and George P. Clinton tracked its spread and studied its biology, but eradication proved impossible.

Instead, attention turned to long-term survival: breeding a blight-resistant chestnut. Arthur H. Graves, a Yale plant pathologist, was among the first to propose crossbreeding American and Asian chestnuts. By 1930, he began controlled hybridization with help from geneticist Donald F. Jones. Their work continued for decades at orchards in Connecticut, including the famed Chestnut Plantation at Sleeping Giant.

A Legacy of Persistence

Early hybrids showed partial resistance but often failed. It would take generations of breeding and selection to make progress. Still, these efforts laid the foundation for modern chestnut restoration.

Even as mature chestnuts vanished, their roots survived. Across Appalachia, chestnut stumps continue to send up shoots—hopeful signs of a species refusing to disappear. Forests of standing dead chestnut trunks were logged for their still-useful wood, known today as “wormy chestnut.”

The Restoration Movement

The American Chestnut Foundation (TACF), formed in 1983, carried on the legacy of Graves and others. Using backcross breeding, hypovirulence (a technique that weakens the blight fungus with a virus), and biotechnology, TACF and partners are planting blight-resistant chestnut saplings and testing them in the wild.

Though restoration is slow and complex, hope is real. For the first time in over a century, we may be within reach of returning the American chestnut to its rightful place in the forest canopy.

References

1. Anagnostakis, S. L. (1997). Chestnuts and the Introduction of Chestnut Blight. CAES Fact Sheet PP008.
2. Anagnostakis, S. L. (2010). History of Chestnut Research at The Connecticut Agricultural Experiment Station. Frontiers of Plant Science, 58(1).
3. Anagnostakis, S. L. (2012). Chestnut Breeding in the U.S. for Disease and Insect Resistance. Plant Disease, 96(10), 1392–1403.
4. Smith, S. S., & Coulter, T. (2017). From the Woods: American Chestnut. Penn State Extension.
5. The American Chestnut Foundation. Why American Chestnuts? Retrieved from TACF.org.
6. Invasive Species Centre (Canada). Chestnut Blight. Retrieved from invasivespeciescentre.ca.

Interested in helping bring back the chestnut? Learn more at The American Chestnut Foundation.

There’s a tension I keep returning to as a first-generation farmer trying to repair a wounded landscape: can we restore what's been lost without replicating it exactly?

In rewilding circles, there’s a growing conversation around ecological surrogates—species that aren’t native, but step into the role of one that’s been lost. Whether it’s wolves bringing balance back to Yellowstone or cattle mimicking extinct megafauna to restore grasslands, the idea is this: it’s the function that matters, not the name on the tag.

But as someone planting native chestnuts on Appalachian soil while eyeing Korean stone pines with admiration, I have to ask:
Where is the line between healing and harm? Between ecological repair and well-meaning invasion?

Ecological Surrogates: Function Over Origin?

An ecological surrogate is a species introduced to fill the niche of one that’s missing. Sometimes that’s because the original went extinct. Sometimes it’s because humans pushed it out. Either way, the goal is to restore function—nut cycling, predator-prey dynamics, seed dispersal—not necessarily the exact species.

In practice, this might mean:

• Letting water buffalo graze in place of aurochs
• Using cattle in prairie restoration where bison once roamed
• Replacing extinct megafauna with large herbivores to bring back soil disturbance and seed spread

And sometimes? It might mean planting a nitrogen-fixing non-native tree where native options are failing under current conditions.

The Case for Native-First

There’s a compelling reason to start with native-first rewilding. Native plants co-evolved with native insects, fungi, and wildlife. They’re the backbone of resilient ecosystems. Native-first approaches reduce the risk of disruption and honor the ecological memory of a place.

Where I farm, this means looking to serviceberry before pawpaw before persimmon before some exotic fruit I saw in a permaculture group online. It means trusting that maybe what grows slow is still the right choice. But it also means facing the fact that the landscape has already changed—climate, soil, hydrology, and all.

So then what?

A Gray Zone: Thoughtful Introductions or Trojan Horses?

Let’s say you plant a non-native tree—one that doesn’t escape into the wild, doesn’t outcompete native species, and fills a critical niche. Maybe it provides food. Shade. Fodder. Or brings back a soil function long missing.

Is that restoration or risk?

The answer is: it depends.
And it’s why this work isn’t a recipe—it’s a relationship.

A thoughtfully introduced species might:

• Be sterile or non-aggressive in seed dispersal
• Coexist with, not crowd out, native plants
• Offer ecological benefits in a disturbed or degraded site where natives can’t establish

But even the best intentions don’t always prevent unintended consequences. We’ve seen it before—kudzu, multiflora rose, autumn olive—brought in for erosion control or wildlife food and now running rampant.

The difference is humility. A native-first approach doesn’t mean native-only—it means native-first, eyes open, and hands in the soil.

So What Are We Doing at Goldberry Grove?

We’re starting with natives: American chestnuts (blight-resistant), serviceberries, hazelnuts, elderberries, persimmons.

We’re rewilding the forest edges with plants that belong here and experimenting at the margins with thoughtfully chosen allies—Korean stone pines, perhaps. Mulberries. Maybe a non-native nitrogen-fixer in a battered part of the field, where native legumes keep failing.

But we track. We observe. We ask: is this healing or harm? Are the pollinators showing up? Is the fungal web intact?

Because rewilding isn’t about control—it’s about relationship. Stewardship means asking the land what it needs, not just imposing our theories onto it.

Final Thought: Can a Non-Native Belong?

Maybe. But only if it behaves as a guest, not a conqueror.
And only if we’re willing to pull it out when it stops listening.

If we treat rewilding like a conversation—not a conquest—maybe there’s room for nuance. Maybe we can hold space for the native, the lost, and the useful… all in one landscape.

Got thoughts on this? Farming or rewilding examples from your land? I’d love to hear how you’re navigating the balance between restoration and risk.
Let’s build a better system—plant by plant, mistake by mistake, seed by seed.

When I started Goldberry Grove, I wasn’t stepping into a legacy of land passed down—I was stepping into the unknown. First-generation farmer. New to the rhythms of the soil. Deeply committed, but often overwhelmed. In that mix of curiosity and chaos, I stumbled across Korean Natural Farming (KNF)—and something clicked.

This post isn’t from a KNF expert. It’s from someone learning by doing—sharing what I’m picking up as I go, so I can remember it, refine it, and maybe even help someone else along the way.

What Even Is KNF?

KNF is short for Korean Natural Farming, a regenerative farming system developed by Master Hankyu Cho. It’s based on a deceptively simple idea: the land already knows how to grow things—you just need to support it, not fight it.

Instead of buying synthetic fertilizers or pesticides, KNF relies on indigenous microorganisms (IMOs) and homemade, fermented inputs. The goal is to make a farm that’s biologically alive, economically sustainable, and deeply rooted in its place.

I’m Still Wrapping My Head Around Microbes (But They’re Amazing)

At the heart of KNF are IMOs—microorganisms like bacteria, fungi, and nematodes already living in your soil. They’re the invisible workers that break down nutrients, build soil structure, and even protect plants from disease.

So far, I’ve learned to collect these microbes by cooking rice and putting it in a wooden box in the woods (IMO1). From there, they’re fed and multiplied through different stages, eventually added back into the field as IMO4.

It sounds like wizardry—but it’s just biology. And I’m learning to trust it.

DIY Inputs = Science Experiments with Soul

One of the most empowering (and messy) parts of KNF is making your own inputs. I’ve been brewing stuff in glass jars, experimenting with ratios, and figuring out what works on my land. Some inputs I’m learning to make:

• Fermented Plant Juice (FPJ) – Made from local weeds, supports leafy growth.
• Fermented Fruit Juice (FFJ) – For flowering and sweetness.
• Fish Amino Acids (FAA) – Nitrogen-rich boost from fish scraps.
• Lactic Acid Bacteria (LAB) – For soil health and animal digestion.
• Water-Soluble Calcium (WSCA) – Crushed eggshells + vinegar = plant strength.

Each one feels like a science project with roots in tradition. And every time I mess up a batch, I learn something.

Waste = Wealth

KNF is showing me that almost nothing on the farm is waste. Weeds become juice. Kitchen scraps become soil. Invasive snails become amino acid fertilizer (yep, really). I’m still figuring out how to set up a better composting system, but KNF has changed how I look at every “leftover” thing on the land.

Plants Grow in Stages. KNF Helps Me Grow with Them.

KNF treats plants like they’re living beings (because they are), and it meets them where they’re at:

1. Vegetative – Build roots and leaves. Use FAA and FPJ.
2. Flowering – Bring the bloom. Add FFJ and calcium.
3. Fruiting – Sweeten and strengthen the harvest. More FFJ + WSCA.

This part of KNF has helped me slow down and actually pay attention to what each plant needs at each stage.

Even the Animals Get the Natural Treatment

I’m still working toward raising animals, but the KNF approach to pigs and chickens has me inspired. Deep bedding systems using IMO-rich sawdust break down waste without stench or runoff.

If and when I build out our animal systems, this is the route I’ll take.

It’s Working All Over the World

KNF has already been used in Hawaii, Mongolia, and across Asia. It’s helping restore degraded land, reduce pollution, and make small farms more self-sufficient. That gives me hope. If they can do it with desert winds and worn-out soil, I can figure it out here in Appalachia.

Why I’m Sharing This

Honestly? Because writing it down helps me remember it. And because teaching, even as a beginner, helps solidify what I’m learning. I’m not trying to position myself as a guru—I’m just someone fumbling forward, and I believe knowledge should be shared even before it's polished.

If you’re curious or have tried KNF on your own land, I’d love to hear what’s worked for you—or what hasn’t. I’m still building out our own KNF systems here at Goldberry Grove, and every conversation helps.

Let’s learn together.

Grow roots, grow food, grow people.

When most folks think of fire in a forest, they picture destruction—flames devouring trees, animals fleeing, smoke choking the skies. But not all fire is bad. In fact, for many landscapes and the wildlife that call them home, fire is essential to life itself. As someone who’s spent years exploring backcountry trails, watching ecosystems change with the seasons, I’ve come to realize one truth: when it comes to our wild places, fire—when done right—can be medicine.

A Fire That Gives, Not Takes

Controlled or prescribed burns are planned, deliberate fires set by land managers to restore and maintain healthy ecosystems. These burns are carried out under specific conditions to meet ecological goals—like clearing out dead brush, returning nutrients to the soil, and making room for new growth.

When fire is excluded from landscapes that need it, ecosystems get out of balance. Over time, forests become overcrowded, native species vanish, and flammable materials build up. That’s a recipe for the kind of catastrophic wildfires we’ve seen way too often. But a controlled burn? That’s a carefully placed spark of renewal.

Here’s what that renewal looks like for wildlife:

• Open meadows return—perfect for deer, elk, and wild turkeys to forage.
• Native grasses and wildflowers bloom—bringing back pollinators like bees and butterflies.
• Rare species find refuge again—like the red-cockaded woodpecker, which thrives in fire-managed pine habitats.
• Predators and prey rebalance—as habitats diversify, so do the populations that depend on them.

It’s nature’s way of hitting the reset button. But this knowledge isn’t new. In fact, it goes way back—thousands of years.

Honoring Fire’s Indigenous Roots

Long before “prescribed fire” became a management strategy, Native American communities across North America practiced what we now call cultural burning. These weren’t just practical tools—they were sacred traditions.

For many tribes, fire is a living spirit. The Karuk, Yurok, Miwok, and numerous other Indigenous nations used fire to maintain healthy lands, improve hunting grounds, and cultivate important plant species. In California’s Yosemite Valley, Indigenous fire stewards shaped the landscape with intentional burns for more than 4,000 years. What European settlers saw as untouched wilderness was actually a highly managed, vibrant mosaic—kept that way by Indigenous fire practices.

Fire was used to:

• Encourage the growth of basket-weaving plants like deergrass and willow;
• Clear underbrush to aid in hunting animals like deer and bison;
• Reduce pests and diseases in forested areas;
• Promote the growth of nut-bearing trees and edible plants.

These burns weren’t random—they followed rhythms of the seasons, animal migrations, and plant cycles. Fire was a tool of stewardship and ceremony, woven into the spiritual and cultural fabric of life.

Unfortunately, when settlers arrived, they brought a different worldview. Fire became the enemy—something to be extinguished, not embraced. As a result, fire suppression policies dominated the last century, and landscapes once rich with biodiversity suffered. But today, things are changing.

Reconnecting with Fire, the Right Way

We’re finally beginning to understand what Indigenous people have always known: fire, when used responsibly, is a force of renewal. Across the country, partnerships are forming between tribal nations and federal agencies like the U.S. Forest Service to bring cultural burning back to the land. Traditional ecological knowledge is guiding modern fire practices—and wildlife is responding.

So next time you see smoke rising from a prescribed burn, don’t panic. Think of the phoenix rising from the ashes. Think of open meadows, singing birds, blooming wildflowers. Think of the wisdom passed down from generations who lived in balance with fire.

And most of all, think of the wild animals that depend on these fires—not just to survive, but to thrive.

Fire doesn’t just destroy. It heals.
Let’s learn from those who knew that first—and light the way toward a wilder, more balanced future.

Want to learn more or get involved in local prescribed burn projects? Reach out to your state’s forestry department or local tribal environmental office—they often love educating others. Do not try doing without proper training, permits, and permission.

It’s difficult to remember what it was like being outside when I was still plant blind. Instead of the specific joy tied to memories where I discover a new species not seen before, it’s fuzzy and vague. I find myself experiencing FOMO sifting through past experiences despite having been in that space before, only with half of the awareness that I have now. My surroundings have taken on a new meaning in the present, and every tangle of greenery that I pass - I must stop and peer through.

Before, I would stare out the window at an endless sea of green as we drove around the province on road trips. It was a monoculture of things I just did not care about. Now, we have to be careful not to waste too much time stopping as I ask to pull over and look through the plant life of ditches, my sharp eyes picking out interesting leaf shapes contrasting against grass shoots.

My partner laughs as I pick my way across the gravel surrounding this battery pad out in the mountains, shaking his head as I point things out eagerly. “ I can really take you anywhere, and you’ll be happy if there are plants. “ I grinned in response, cooing over a glabrous Shrubby Cinquefoil before rushing over to a Mealy Primrose and taking photos for later identification. Years ago, when we first began dating, I didn’t have a single hobby to speak of.

That changed when the pandemic hit, and I elected to stay inside and away from people for a good long while. In this time I discovered house plants, and killed a few in my first forays of being a ' plant mom. ' I started researching how to take care of plants, and discovered conflicting information that raised more questions than answers. Realizing there was both good and bad information out there lead me to take an evidence based approach, and I discovered that growing houseplants in an environment similar to where they occur natively was the best practice. 

Down the rabbit hole I went, putting two and two together and turning my gaze outdoors, where I began gardening and incorporating native species for pollinator value, just a few at first. I had been terrified of bugs up until this point and I had reasoned to myself I couldn't be running away screaming from wasps, so I had better learn how to live with them. Turns out, feeding them with native plants is a great way to become friends, and that's exactly what I did. I began devouring all things related to bugs and local plant ecotypes, including long lectures on youtube and many, many hours of podcasts and reading. 

The more I learned the farther I became entrenched in the native plant movement, the joy of discovery and learning unapparelled in my life so far. Everything was so interesting, and the world was just so much larger than I had originally thought. Not only were there bugs, but there were parasitic bugs, and hyper parasitic bugs! There are worlds under our feet and all around us, including fungi, microbes, and bacteria, and they are all interlinked with native plants.

Studying field botany has changed my life for the better, as connecting with the living world has brought me immense peace. Learn about a local, native plant, and spark a hobby you can carry with you for the rest of your life!

There’s a well-worn saying: "It takes a village to raise a child." Over time, I’ve come to believe it also takes a village—of plants, people, and persistence—to build a better world.

That village begins right here, on our nine acres (twenty for the whole property, but I'm dedicating nine to this project specifically for native forest and wetlands) of land in rural West Virginia.

Rewilding Is Personal

I didn’t come to farming as a legacy or a lifestyle trend. I came because I wanted my daughter to grow up with more than a screen and a schedule. I wanted her to grow up where she could name trees by their bark, find fox tracks after snow, and know the sound of coyotes as something real—not frightening, but familiar.

We’re rewilding parts of our land—planting natives, restoring a pond, letting the pollinators return not just for pretty pictures, but because it matters. We’re also planting an orchard of nuts and perennials. The two can live side-by-side—cultivation and conservation.

This isn’t about “fixing” the planet. It’s about stewarding the piece we’ve been entrusted with. And it’s about showing our daughter that local action, done with love, is never wasted.

Rural Life, Chosen with Intention

I come from communities that are often progressive, queer, and BIPOC—many of whom have asked me why I chose to move to a rural area where my identity might feel out of place. The truth is: I decided on this precisely because it offers a different kind of diversity of thought, of rhythm, of connection to land and seasons.

Yes, there are fewer resources. Yes, there is political misalignment at times. And yes, there’s judgment, too—from both directions. But there’s also space for my child to be a child. To grow into her convictions without being crushed by the weight of constant outrage or digital discourse.

The truth is, civic engagement doesn’t start with a debate. It starts with a shovel, a trail, and a conversation with your neighbor.

This Is My Protest

I volunteer during floods, attend land use meetings, build trails, plant wildflowers, and advocate for green space in the New River Gorge—not because it will save the world, but because it shows my child what’s worth saving.

This is how I protest, not with noise, but with roots.

I want her to see that the flying insects came back, that the frogs sang again, and that even the carnivores—vilified for generations—still have a place if we make one.

Stewardship Is a Daily Practice

I know the problems we face are big. I know the system is flawed. But I also know that positivity in a vacuum becomes toxic, and negativity without action becomes despair. So I choose to do what I can, where I am, with what I have.

When my daughter walks our trails and sees flowers blooming where there was once bramble, she’s not learning ideology—she’s learning care.

That’s enough for today. That’s everything.

If you’re raising livestock without shade, you’re not just making life harder for your animals—you’re leaving productivity, sustainability, and long-term resilience on the table. Agroforestry, the art of integrating trees into pastures, isn’t just some tree-hugger fantasy. It’s one of the smartest, most science-backed ways to keep animals thriving, slash emissions, and make farms more resilient against climate change. Let’s talk about why throwing shade (literally) might be the best thing you can do for your herd.

Heat Stress is Real, and It’s Getting Worse

Picture this: It’s mid-July, the sun is relentless, and your cows are panting like they just ran a marathon. Heat stress isn’t just uncomfortable—it’s a productivity killer. Studies show that when livestock don’t have access to shade, they eat less, drink more, and burn energy just trying to cool down. That means lower weight gain, less milk production, and overall lower efficiency (Sarubbi et al., 2024).

Silvopasture—where livestock graze under the canopy of carefully managed trees—changes the game. Research from Uruguay shows that cattle raised under trees handle heat waves way better than those left out in open fields (Saravia et al., 2024). The trees create microclimates, reducing ambient temperatures and making for happier, healthier animals.

Lowering Emissions Without the Gimmicks

Here’s something feedlot operators don’t like to talk about: Livestock emissions aren’t just about methane burps. Heat-stressed animals actually emit more greenhouse gases because they’re metabolizing inefficiently. They also produce more nitrogen-based pollutants, making air and water quality worse (Mejia Turcios, 2024).

Silvopastoral systems help in two ways:

1. Cooler cattle = fewer emissions. Less stress means better digestion, better weight gain, and fewer waste byproducts.
2. Trees are carbon vacuums. They sequester CO₂, improve soil health, and filter water runoff, making the entire system cleaner and more sustainable (Soto-Gómez, 2024).

Agroforestry: The Climate Crisis Shield

Let’s be blunt—climate change is not coming. It’s here. Rising temperatures and unpredictable weather are making traditional livestock systems less viable every year. If you’re not adapting, you’re already behind.

Agroforestry isn’t just about animal welfare; it’s about climate resilience. Well-placed trees reduce wind stress, improve soil moisture retention, and create stable ecosystems that protect against droughts and floods (Woodward et al., 2025). And in a world where heatwaves are becoming routine, tree cover could be the difference between a farm that thrives and one that collapses.

The Future is Shady (In a Good Way)

Agroforestry isn’t a trend—it’s a long-term investment in sustainability. It makes livestock more productive, slashes emissions, and future-proofs farms against climate volatility. The science is clear: if you want to raise healthier animals, protect your land, and stay profitable in a changing world, it’s time to plant some damn trees.

Your cattle will thank you. Your soil will thank you. And in 20 years, when your farm is still standing while others are struggling, you’ll thank yourself.

So go ahead—throw some shade. It’s the best decision you’ll ever make.

Further Reading:

• Mejia Turcios, S. E. (2024). Evaluation of different approaches to reduce greenhouse gases and air pollutants from feedlot cattle production. UC eScholarship. Available here
• Saravia, C., van Lier, E., Munka, C., & Bentancur, O. (2024). Trees on rangelands can attenuate the negative effect of heat waves on livestock. Agroforestry Systems, 10457. Available here
• Sarubbi, J., Martínez-Burnes, J., & Ghezzi, M. D. (2024). Hypothalamic neuromodulation and control of the dermal surface temperature of livestock during hyperthermia. ResearchGate. Available here
• Soto-Gómez, D. (2024). Integration of crops, livestock, and solar panels: Agrivoltaic systems. Agronomy, 14(8), 1824. Available here
• Woodward, S. J. R., Beukes, P. C., & Edwards, J. P. (2025). Regional heat stress maps for grazing dairy cows in New Zealand. Animal Production Science. Available here

For anyone who has been in the permaculture movement for a while, you’ve likely encountered the swale obsession—the idea that swales are the ultimate solution for water management and landscape hydration. Swales have been glorified in countless designs, often overbuilt, misunderstoodd, and difficult to maintain. But let’s step back for a second: Are swales always the best tool for the job?

The Myth of the Permanent Swale

Permaculture is, at its core, about creating systems that last, yet swales—ironically—often require constant maintenance to function properly (Though a well maintained one can last 20 - 50 years). Erosion, sediment buildup, and vegetation overgrowth can quickly render them ineffective. And if they aren’t designed correctly, they actively harm soil hydrology rather than improving it.

A truly permanent system should require minimal ongoing inputs to stay functional. Yet, many swale projects either fail outright or require costly fixes to adjust depth, infiltration rates, or planting strategies. That doesn’t sound particularly permanent to me.

When Swales Go Wrong

One of the most common swale fails is over-scaling the design. The massive swales we often see in Geoff Lawton’s work in Australia are built for that specific environment—huge properties with hydrophobic soils and infrequent, high-intensity rainfall. That does not mean those same swale designs translate to every other climate and landscape.

Swales that are too deep often infiltrate water too far down, bypassing the root zone and making the soil drier, not wetter. This is especially problematic in areas with clay layers, fragipan, or plow pan, where a deep swale can permanently disrupt natural landscape hydrology by draining moisture away from the surface.

The True Purpose of a Swale

They were designed to establish trees in the first two to three years when irrigation is not economically viable.

Historically the swale is largely irrelevant because tree systems, when mature, will infiltrate nearly 100% of the water they receive on their own. Several studies have shown that even young trees with a healthy understory infiltrate nearly all the rain they receive without the need for swales (ResearchGate).

Indigenous Water Harvesting Knowledge: A Missing Piece

While permaculture often references swales as a core technique, it’s important to acknowledge that water harvesting practices predate modern permaculture by millennia. Indigenous cultures around the world developed intricate and highly localized systems for managing water on the landscape, many of which offer valuable lessons beyond the traditional permaculture swale.

• Zuni Waffle Gardens (Southwest U.S.) – A system of grid-like depressions designed to capture rainwater and reduce evaporation in arid regions.
• Bunds & Contour Trenches (Africa & India) – Raised earthen ridges used to slow and retain water for agricultural plots.
• Waru Waru (Andean Highlands) – Elevated beds with water channels between them to regulate soil moisture and prevent flooding.
• Terracing (Asia, Andes, Mediterranean) – A method of shaping the land to reduce erosion and capture water, often incorporating swales within broader land-use strategies.

Indigenous water management systems emphasize adaptability—they evolve through generations of observation, experimentation, and refinement. Unlike modern permaculture swales, which are often applied rigidly, indigenous methods were tailored to specific microclimates, soil conditions, and cultural needs.

Misinterpreting Water Retention

A swale filling with water isn’t proof that it’s working—in many cases, it’s actually a sign that mechanical compaction during construction has reduced soil infiltration rates. If your swale isn’t holding water after a couple of years, that’s not failure—that’s success. It means the water is finally soaking into the ground, rather than pooling on the surface due to compacted subsoil.

Alternatives to Swales

So, what can you do instead of digging deep trenches across your landscape?

1. Keyline Design – A more adaptive and gentle way to manage water flow across the land without creating high-maintenance ditches.
2. Hügelkultur & Mulch – Building soil organic matter increases water infiltration naturally, no excavation required.
3. Silvopasture & Agroforestry – If trees are the goal, why not plant them with protective understory crops instead of carving deep earthworks?
4. Small-Scale, Shallow Swales – If swales are needed, keep them shallow and suited to your specific soil and climate. Bigger is not always better.

The Takeaway: Smarter Swales, Not Bigger Ones

The obsession with swales has led to oversized, overcomplicated systems that often don’t work as intended. Rather than defaulting to swales as a one-size-fits-all solution, it’s time to approach water management with more nuance and adaptability.

By integrating indigenous knowledge, site-specific analysis, and alternative techniques, we can move beyond dogmatic swale worship and into a broader, more effective practice of water management. Permaculture is a living practice, and it should continue evolving, incorporating lessons from the past and present to ensure resilient, long-lasting landscapes.

For farmers, homesteaders, and agroforestry practitioners, the tractor debate is a common one: Do I invest in a machine, or can I work the land using traditional, non-mechanized methods? The answer isn’t black and white—it depends on your land, your goals, and your available resources. Let’s break down when tractors make sense and when old-school methods might be the better fit.

When a Tractor Makes Sense

🚜 You’re Managing a Large Acreage
If you’re working more than 5–10 acres, a tractor can save hundreds of hours of labor. Tasks like mowing, moving heavy materials, and subsoiling are significantly faster with mechanization. If time is a limiting factor (and let’s be real, it always is), a tractor can be a game-changer.

📦 You Need Heavy Lifting Capability
If you’re hauling pallets of nursery trees, dragging felled logs, or moving large amounts of compost or gravel, a tractor with a front-end loader or forks will save your back and sanity. Hand-loading hundreds of pounds of material just isn’t feasible at scale.

🌱 You’re Shaping the Land
For those working in agroforestry or regenerative landscapes, a tractor can be invaluable for digging berms, swales, and subsoiling to improve water retention and soil structure. These land-shaping tasks are difficult and time-consuming without mechanization, making a tractor a vital tool for long-term ecological planning.

🤝 You Can Leverage Community Resources
If you only need a tractor for occasional tasks, such as moving materials, prepping land, or mowing a few times per season, owning one outright may not be necessary. Consider sharing a tractor with other local farmers, renting from a neighbor, or joining a co-op with shared equipment. This approach lowers costs while still giving you access to the right tools when needed.

When Traditional Methods Make More Sense

🌿 You’re Working on a Small Scale (5 Acres or Less)
For a small homestead or market garden, traditional tools like broadforks, wheel hoes, and hand tools can be enough. If you’re only maintaining a few garden beds and a small orchard, you may not need the upfront cost and maintenance burden of a tractor.

🐴 You’re Focused on Reduced Soil Disturbance
Strictly speaking, tilling is impossible to avoid entirely—every seed planted and every bed prepped involves some degree of soil disturbance. However, heavy tillage is often unnecessary and can disrupt soil life, reduce organic matter, and increase weed pressure. If you’re practicing no-till or reduced-till farming, you may prefer methods that prioritize keeping soil layers intact over conventional mechanization. Broadforking, surface cultivation, and relying on livestock for land management are excellent alternatives.

💰 Budget Constraints Are Real
A good compact tractor starts at $20,000–$30,000, and that’s before attachments. If your land size, workload, and goals don’t justify the cost, it may be wiser to invest in well-built hand tools, quality soil amendments, or skilled labor instead. Renting or borrowing equipment through local farming networks or tool libraries can also help reduce costs while still getting necessary tasks done.

🛠 You Enjoy the Hands-On Work
Some farmers and homesteaders prefer traditional methods for the connection they provide to the land. If you find satisfaction in working slowly and intentionally, using hand tools or draft animals can be a rewarding choice.

Finding the Right Balance

In many cases, the best approach is a hybrid one. A small farm might use a tractor for the heavy lifting and major land work but rely on traditional tools for precision gardening, orchard care, and regenerative soil practices. The key is to match your tools to your needs—not just default to mechanization because that’s the norm. Leveraging community resources like shared tractors or equipment rentals can help strike that balance without unnecessary costs.

At the end of the day, your land, your values, and your resources should guide your decision. Whether you go for a 40HP tractor or a broadfork and a team of goats, what matters is that your system works for you, not against you.

There’s an intoxicating dream wrapped up in the idea of homesteading—a vision of self-sufficiency, pristine landscapes, and a life free from the entanglements of modern society. You see it all over social media: the sun-drenched garden beds, the neatly stacked firewood, the picturesque flock of chickens wandering a lush pasture. The dream tells you that with enough grit, land, and hard work, you can grow everything you need, raise your own livestock, and live off the land. But here’s the hard truth: homesteading is not, and never has been, a solo endeavor. And trying to go it alone is a surefire way to fail.

The First-Generation Farmer Problem

Blackbird Farms is on the front lines of a crisis most people aren’t paying attention to: half of America’s farmers will retire by 2035, and there’s no clear plan to replace them. The small-farming movement, despite its ideals, has struggled to create a pipeline of lasting farms. The reason? The model is broken.

For decades, we’ve romanticized the notion of the independent farmer—a single family working their land, producing all they need, and selling surplus at a local market. But the economics of small-scale farming, especially for first-generation farmers, simply do not work at scale. High land costs, extreme labor requirements, and the reality of running a business in an industrialized food economy have made it nearly impossible for these farmers to succeed long-term. Most don’t last ten years. Many don’t last five.

The Illusion of Self-Sufficiency

The fundamental flaw in modern homesteading ideology is the do-it-all mentality. The truth is, self-sufficiency is a myth unless you define it as community sufficiency. No single person—or even a nuclear family—can grow all their own food, raise livestock, process their own grains, fix their equipment, manage finances, and still have time for rest.

Historically, farming has always been a community endeavor. Barn-raisings, shared labor, cooperative grain mills—these were the backbone of agriculture before the industrial model took over. The idea that one person can own a few acres and manage every aspect of it alone is both unsustainable and unnecessary when a collaborative model offers a better path forward.

Learning from New Roots Community Farm

Another real-world example of community farming in action is New Roots Community Farm, an 82-acre non-profit farm in the heart of Southern West Virginia’s New River Gorge region. With six acres of intensive vegetable production, it serves as a model for regenerative growing techniques and community-based food systems.

New Roots is more than a farm—it’s a hub for beginning farmers, BIPOC producers, and food system innovators working to build a resilient, equitable local agricultural economy. Their produce finds its way into Fayette County school cafeterias, local restaurants, and their on-site farm market, proving that sustainable food systems are possible when rooted in community cooperation.

This type of integrated approach is key to long-term farming success. By focusing on market access, land access, and food access, New Roots is creating a replicable model that prioritizes collective sustainability over individual survival.

Rethinking the Model: Community Integration Over Isolation

The solution to the failing first-generation farmer movement isn’t to throw more individuals into the deep end and hope they swim. It’s to rebuild farming as a community-driven effort—one where food production, processing, and distribution are integrated within local economies instead of controlled by corporate agribusiness.

This means more cooperative food hubs, more collective ownership of resources, and more collaboration between farmers, ranchers, and those who consume their food. It means designing farms where people specialize—because one person running livestock, growing staple crops, and handling all marketing isn’t sustainable, but a network of people sharing those roles is.

Homesteading Dreams, But Rooted in Reality

If you dream of starting a farm or a homestead, great. But go into it with a realistic plan, not a fantasy.

• Find your community. Whether it’s a co-op, a food hub, or a farmer network, don’t do it alone.
• Diversify your income streams. Farming is a business, and businesses need stability.
• Recognize that true sustainability is collective. The future of farming isn’t a lone wolf homesteader—it’s a pack, working together.

The dream isn’t dead. It just needs a stronger foundation.

Building a Sustainable Future with Winchester Co-op Market

At first, I did not realize how much my involvement with the Winchester Co-op Market (WCM) would change my thinking about food, community, sustainability, and the importance of teamwork. I didn’t know much about co-ops; honestly, I wasn’t even sure how they operated. As head of the Sustainability Committee, Board Secretary, and Social Media Manager, I’ve grown so much and found a deeper passion for what we’re building.

Even though we don’t have a physical building or memberships available for purchase, every day feels like progress. We’re laying the foundation for something truly special—a community-owned grocery store that will provide access to high-quality, locally sourced food while strengthening our local economy.

📱 Growing Our Digital Community

Maintaining our social media presence has been one of the most rewarding aspects of my day. When I took over in September 2024, we had nearly 700 followers in our public Facebook group. Fast forward to January 2025, and we’ve grown to over 3,500 followers across multiple platforms.

This growth isn’t just numbers; it’s a testament to how much people in Winchester are rallying behind our mission. Every time I post, share, or engage with our community online, I’m reminded of how many people are excited to see a co-op thrive in our town.

🌱 Learning and Leading in Sustainability

But the learning never stops! I'm constantly picking up new things—whether it's the best way to engage with our growing online community, learning the ins and outs of co-op governance, or diving deeper into the sustainability practices that will shape our future. It’s been a lot to take in, and I’m learning minute by minute, but I’m loving every second of it.

As head of the Sustainability Committee, I’m especially passionate about the environmental and community-focused aspects of WCM’s mission. Sustainability isn’t just an idea for us; it’s at the heart of everything we’re doing. We’re committed to sourcing food from within a 150-mile radius of Winchester, Virginia, supporting local farmers, and reducing our carbon footprint.

But it’s not just about reducing our impact—it’s about creating systems that make a lasting, positive change for everyone involved. We want to support regenerative agriculture, create a robust local food system, and support the well-being of our community.

🌍 Shaping a Better Future

The realization that the choices we make today will affect not only ourselves but also future generations is humbling. Whether it’s reducing waste, ensuring fair wages for workers, or prioritizing sustainable farming practices, the goal is clear: create a healthier, more sustainable future for Winchester and beyond.

Managing WCM’s social media and helping guide our sustainability efforts has opened my eyes to just how important this co-op is to the community. People want a place that embodies their ideals—where they can spend money on their neighbors, support sustainable practices, and get wholesome, locally grown food. And every time I hear someone share their excitement about the co-op, I’m reminded of why I started this journey in the first place.

Even though there are still many things to learn and things to do before we have a physical location and memberships available, I am so proud to be a part of something so much larger than a grocery store. Together, we’re building a movement that will shape the future of Winchester, Virginia for years to come—and I’m grateful to be on this journey with everyone. 🚀

When planting fruit and nut trees, what happens below the soil is just as important as what happens above. The root system is the foundation for a tree’s ability to establish itself, access nutrients, and thrive long-term. Even the most promising sapling can struggle to survive without strong, healthy roots. Let’s dig into why root systems matter and how they influence the success of orchards and food forests.

🏗️ Root System Structure and Function

Fruit and nut trees typically develop one of two primary root systems:

1. Taproot Systems – Trees such as walnuts and pecans develop a deep, central taproot that anchors the tree and allows it to access deep water reserves. This makes them well-suited for drier climates where groundwater availability is critical.
2. Fibrous Root Systems – Apples, citrus, and many stone fruits develop a fibrous lateral root system that spreads wide rather than deep. This enables efficient nutrient and water absorption from the top soil layers, making them more dependent on surface moisture and organic matter.

🌾 Key Functions of Root Systems:

✅ Water and Nutrient Uptake – Healthy roots maximize a tree’s ability to absorb essential nutrients like nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium, all of which influence growth and fruit production.
✅ Structural Stability – A strong root system anchors the tree, reducing the risk of toppling in storms or high winds.
✅ Soil Health and Microbial Support – Tree roots interact with beneficial microbes and fungi, including mycorrhizal fungi, which extend root reach and improve nutrient uptake, especially phosphorus. However, excessive fertilization, particularly with high-phosphorus fertilizers, can harm these beneficial fungal networks.
✅ Drought and Stress Resilience – Deeper roots access water reserves, while fibrous roots quickly absorb rainwater, helping trees withstand environmental stressors.

🌍 Soil and Environmental Factors Affecting Root Development

Several factors influence how a tree’s root system develops, including:

• Soil Type & Amendments:
  • Clay soils – Often compacted and poorly draining. Amending with composted manure, gypsum, or aged bark can improve aeration and structure.
  • Sandy soils – Drain too quickly and lack nutrients. Adding leaf mold, well-aged compost, or biochar can help retain moisture and enhance fertility.
• Soil Preparation: Before planting, loosening compacted soil and incorporating organic matter promotes deeper root penetration.
• Irrigation Practices: Deep, infrequent watering encourages downward root growth, while frequent shallow watering promotes surface root dominance. A good rule of thumb is to water deeply once per week during dry periods, allowing the top few inches of soil to dry between waterings.
• Mulching: Applying organic mulch helps retain soil moisture, regulate temperature, and foster beneficial microbial activity. Wood chips, straw, or leaves can be great options.
• Pruning and Training: Proper pruning balances root and shoot growth, preventing a top-heavy tree. Heading cuts encourage branching, while thinning cuts remove excess growth to direct energy into root expansion.

🔧 Best Practices for Establishing Strong Root Systems

• Choose the Right Rootstock – Many fruit and nut trees are grafted onto rootstocks chosen for adaptability and disease resistance. Examples include:
  • M9 (Dwarf Apple Rootstock) – Controls tree size and encourages early fruiting.
  • OHxF 97 (Pear Rootstock) – Known for its tolerance to various soil conditions and strong anchorage.
  • Nemaguard (Peach Rootstock) – Resistant to root-knot nematodes and well-suited for sandy soils.
• Prepare the Site Properly – Avoid planting in compacted or poorly drained soil; amend with compost or organic matter to improve soil health.
• Water Strategically – Encourage deep rooting by watering deeply and infrequently rather than shallow, frequent watering.
• Support Mycorrhizal Associations – Fungal networks aid in nutrient absorption, so avoid over-fertilization, especially with phosphorus-heavy products that may disrupt these beneficial relationships.
• Minimize Transplant Shock – When planting, handle roots carefully, plant at the correct depth, and water thoroughly to ensure a smooth transition from nursery to orchard.

🍏 Conclusion

A fruit or nut tree’s success is deeply rooted in the health of its underground network. By understanding and supporting root system development, growers can establish stronger, more resilient trees that produce abundant harvests for years to come. Whether you’re planting a backyard orchard or managing a regenerative food system, prioritizing root health is key to long-term success. 🌳✨

📢 Join the Conversation!

What root system challenges have you faced in your orchard? Have you experimented with specific soil amendments or irrigation strategies? Share your experiences and questions in the comments below!