Often we hear in our major news sources how good for a community growth and development are. We are told that the larger tax base created by growth and development spreads the burden, creates jobs, and improves the community. But is that the truth? We think not. Consider these points:

• Farmland does not send more children to school, which raises school taxes and creates the need for more schools, more teachers, more books, more supplies, etc.
• Farmland does not raise the crime rate, nor create the need for additional police resources.
• Farmland does not require the building of additional roads nor their continued maintenance.
• Farmland does not use city sewer and water, nor require an increase in capacity of same.
• Farmland seldom requires fire company or ambulance/rescue resources.
• Farmland produces a product necessary for basic human survival, while development seldom does.
• Farmland does not increase air or noise pollution levels.
• Farmland requires very little in fossil fuel energy resources- resources which are most often produced and consumed at the expense of our air and water quality.
• Farmland beauty feeds the soul as well as the population.
• Farmland creates the greenspace necessary for re-oxygenization of the air we breathe, while development destroys it.
• Farmland does not create garbage, nor require garbage removal, nor require landfill space.
• Farmland does not create a welfare burden.
• Farmland does not increase car traffic, traffic which creates pollution and the need for further road maintenance, police resources, fire company, and ambulance/rescue resources.
• Farmland does not require hospitals, social security, or medicare/medicaid.
• Housing Development creates only short term employment in the construction and related fields, while the only permanent jobs being created by housing development are in Education and public service (police, fire, road maintenance, sewage treatment, etc) which are paid for by tax dollars.

The next time a developer shows up at your local planning board meeting and tells everyone how good growth is for the community, you just might be able to tell him or her otherwise. Help preserve our farms and greenspace!

As my senior year of high school ends, I’ve been reminiscing about my farm experience. My relationship with the farm began in June of 1997 when I was looking for a job. My friend Adam told me about the Schneiderwind Farm, where he’d worked. I inquired because the farm interested me and not many employers would give a 12-year-old a job. Little did I know, this was going to be more than just a job where I earned a few bucks on the side.

Over the years, I participated in programs, such as the Herb Project, the Endangered Species Project and a program on compassion. The teen educational programs all started with a vision, and here we are now, a nonprofit organization called the Delaware Valley Farm Study Center for Sustainable Living.

Compassion was something that surrounded me on the farm. I learned how to express emotions through poetry, something I never thought I’d be able to do. People cared and took time to be a part of my life. Walt and Jane are like second parents to me, always asking me about school or offering advice when I was a bit confused about things. The other teens I worked with were friends I could laugh with. The programs opened our eyes to things we would have never experienced. The smell of the summer air, fresh peaches, tomatoes, sweet corn or the buzz of a few yellow jackets was always present. People from the community stopping to purchase produce and complimenting us on the job we were doing made us feel good at the end of the day.

Now that I’m 18 and going off to college, I know I’ll miss the farm greatly. The farm has become a part of me and I leave a piece of my heart with it. I believe that I am the man I am today because of the positive encouragement, experiences and knowledge that I’ve gained from working and being part of the programs at the farm.

My memories of our family farm are based on wonderful stories told over and over in such detail that, with repetition and time, I have become joined with both the story and its teller. For now, I imagine that I can both see the story that the teller is telling and feel the feeling that the teller is feeling. In my mind’s eye, we approach my great-grandparents’ farm on Hickory Hill. A one-room schoolhouse at the top of the hill marks the turn onto a narrow dirt road leading to the farm. Interspersed between tall, oak trees lining the road stand small rectangular tombstones. About 1,000 feet from the schoolhouse, a large cornfield slopes downhill toward the small, stone farmhouse. To the right of the house stand several red barns, a corncrib, a silo and a shed which houses the mules; to the left stand a root cellar and a spring house. The spring house is built on the edge of a creek that runs through the farm. Alongside and to the back of farmhouse I see a large vegetable garden and a number of apple, pear, cherry, peach and quince trees and the outhouse. A vast wooded area, also part of the farm, with large oak, walnut and hickory trees lies beyond the farmhouse and the barns. A white picket fence encircling the farmhouse separates the working part of the farm from the house. Inside the fence is a long-handled pump well, a picnic table and gardens with herbs and flowers and a arbor with climbing red roses.

For the farmer the day starts at 4 in the morning and lights are out by 9 at night. A small lamp which uses a gallon of kerosene a month provides light for a family of eight. Except for sugar, flour, tea, spices and a harness for the mules, my great-grandparents’ family is self-sufficient. They fill their root cellar, canning shelves, corncrib, silo and barn with their summer harvest that lasts throughout the winter and spring. Fresh eggs, milk, fish, and foraging for nuts, berries and watercress add to the harvest. The harvest is consumed by our family with the remainder either sold or shared with neighbors and friends.

Beef, chickens, ducks, pigs and wild game provide a source of fresh meat that the community butchers together and shares. Sheep are raised for their fleece which is spun into wool by neighbors and knit into sweaters, socks, mittens and scarves by my great-grandmother and her daughters, Aunt Jennie and Mattie Mae, my grandmother. The barns house cows in the lower levels while hay is stored in the loft. The fields are fertilized with manure from the cows and other farm animals. Local mills saw logs into boards for building and grind grain into flour for baking bread and delicious desserts. Family and friends help each other make it through hard times. Community work days, raising barns, getting the harvest in before storms, always end with a feast and of course a crop of new stories.

Today I realize that my childhood farming experiences and the stories told evolved into my understanding of both sustainable agriculture and sustainable living. I left my family and farming roots to pursue my education and work in the city. Farming was not a part of my life for many years. When I returned the sustainable model of the small family farm that I had come to know during my childhood had all but disappeared.

I’ve done things that kings and queens can’t spell
I’ve been places you won’t even find in Hell
I’ve met people that no one could forget
I’ve seen things that even I regret
I’ve dined with gods and met my maker
My heart has been broken and I’m a heart – breaker
I’ve been deep in caves and I’ve flown high in planes
I’ve been to Heaven and I’ve been insane
I’ve sung sweet songs of sorrow
I’ve led a life I’d let no one borrow

ROCCO, GRADE 11

As our nation and the world struggles with how to achieve security post 9/11, we have the opportunity to consider how we respond to violence. We don’t need to look far to see it: husbands and wives, children and parents, neighbors and coworkers are “doing battle” with each other over the “right” way to achieve security and peace. While we may never have thought of our words as violent, they can lead to hurt and pain, whether to ourselves or others. Yet we can learn ways of communicating that lead to win-win situations and result in sustainable relationships. Ghandi once said, “We must be the change we wish to see”. A new aspect of our 2003 summer program will focus on compassionate communication in a course titled “Making Positive Connections.” It introduces a non-violent approach beginning with deep listening and ending with deep learning from each other. The following are a few of the ideas that underlie this approach to communication for sustainable relationships, the foundation for our course: Human beings, no matter how outwardly different, have the same universal needs for acceptance, connection, security, peace, equality, autonomy, contribution, growth, rest and play. The tendency to be judgmental is an obstacle that prevents us from recognizing the root of this judgement which is our own unrealized or unmet needs. Many of us have to unlearn the feeling we have grown up with, that having needs means we are somehow “weak” or “needy,” whereas in fact it is both natural and human. Once we can identify our own needs, we can begin to explore the infinite number of channels available to meet them. We can then begin to relate to what we have in common, our universal humanity, and reconnect rather than disconnect or worse still, demonize each other. In our intimate relationships, our communities whether they’re local, national or global - it is in our informed self-interest to make sustainable and lasting relationships to assure that everyone’s needs are respected. “Making Positive Connections” aims to provide students with tools and opportunities to practice listening more deeply to hear one another’s concerns and feelings, and respond in a way that enters true communication. Our hope is that the course will set the tone for all other activities that students will participate in this summer — gardening, art, poetry and nourishing our relationships with nature, community and self.

This slaw is a nice variation on typical creamy cole slaw and makes a great winter salad too!
For the Slaw:
3 cups cabbage, red & green grated and mixed
2 cups any combination of grated carrot,
celery root, radish, kohlrabi, turnip
3 cloves garlic, chopped
(toasted sesame seeds optional)
For the Dressing, MIX:
3 tablespoons honey
1/2 cup raw tahini (sesame seed paste)
2 tablespoons soy sauce or tamari
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
6 tablespoons water
Mix up the slaw and add the dressing.
Mix well and enjoy!

When we first visited the farm one thing was obvious. Like the pot of
gold at the end of the rainbow, the farm sits at the foot of the bridge connecting Frenchtown, NJ, and Uhlerstown, PA. Spanning the Delaware River, the bridge is a prominent reminder that you stand on a geographic border between two states, two communities. However, what’s not as obvious is the other bridge, the bridge that connects us with the natural world. An often forgotten link, this bridge grounds us in a sense of place and the changing seasons. This bridge is the farm itself. Every farm can be a community resource teaching important lessons such as where our food comes from, the importance of diverse systems, and how to create a healthy mind and body. That is the goal of our farm and that is why we have chosen to name it Bridge Farm.

Bridge Farm is here to be the connection between the Farm Study Center, the food, the fields, the community, the natural world and you. We want to grow delicious, organic food in a way that supports the soil, plants, and animals while strengthening and nourishing the local community and ourselves. Bridge Farm is accessible to all to share in its beauty and abundance. Come to the farm alone or with others to taste, touch, learn and share. We hope you visit Bridge Farm for fresh, seasonal, organically grown vegetables, herbs and flowers. But don’t leave without walking into the fields, talking with the farmers and, yes, smelling the flowers. Educational opportunities surround you when you take the time to slow down and look. We guarantee the next fresh summer salad you share with friends and family will taste better once you’ve learned how the tomatoes and cucumbers were grown. Sustainable choices have positive effects and that’s a chain reaction worth starting and continuing.

AT THE BRIDGE FARM, late summer is the time to can peaches.We watch Jim Hausmann, a long-time local fruit grower, as he delivers eight baskets of large, red, ripe Loring peaches. Audrey, our neighbor who has worked several summers on our farm and learned the art of canning from her mother, joined my wife Jane and I to begin our yearly canning ritual. My job is to sterilize the raw packed peaches. This gives me plenty of time, as I watch the bubbles in boiling water, to reconnect with earlier days on my grandmother’s farm, and the lessons they taught me as I grew up.

Come every spring and summer, with my grandmother Mattie Mae, we began filling the silos, corn cribs, grain bins and hay lofts with food for the animals while restocking the root cellar, flour bins, herb racks and basement canning shelves with food for our family. By early fall, behind the cloth fabric on the canning shelves were many colorful “Ball” jars filled with maple syrup, clover honey, sweet & sour cherries, grape juice, pears, plums and of course peaches all ready for wintertime desserts. Everything we ate was grown, preserved and stored by our family. Everything, that is, except the peaches.

On the first Saturday of September, for as long as I can remember, we packed up our four-door 1940 black Plymouth and drove twenty miles on Route 519 north to the Hausmann farm. Jim Hausmann grows as fine a peach as any farmer in New Jersey. His eighty-acre fruit farm is on a hillside with a south, southeast exposure and was part of the Race family and Rutgers’ research fruit farm dating back to 1923. Jim taught me everything I know about peaches. His love for the subject, which started at the age of thirteen when he grafted his first fruit tree, is infectious. But, somehow I always felt there must have been a deeper reason which drove his passion for growing peaches.

I remember one time, a few years back, as we were walking up the hill toward the Loring peaches, Jim pointed out that peaches grown in less fertile and drier soils at the crest of the hill, known as the “bony knoll”, are sweeter. He said, “Peach trees are related to the rose family and come from China. The center of the pit is toxic and used in drugs for the treatment of cancer. Halford or Lovell variety pits are first cracked then germinated and later grafted at the second bud and planted so that the bud union is below the grounds surface. A peach tree sets about 6,000 fruit and must be hand thinned to 600 fruit. The peach bud will die at -9 degrees Fahrenheit and the blossom at 27.8 degrees Fahrenheit. Loring, Jersey Queen and Autumn Glow have a larger bud and showier flower which will freeze before the Red Haven, White Hale and Sun High which have a smaller bud and flower. The peach harvest starts in July and ends seven weeks later on September 10th.”

As we reached the Loring peach trees on the “bony knoll” of the Hausmann Orchard we were joined by Jim’s daughter, Tara, and son, young Jimmy. Jim said the Lorings are best for canning and instructed us to pick the red, ripe peaches on the western side at the top of the tree. I then asked Jim why young Jimmy and Tara come back each year to help with the peach harvest. Jim did not hesitate, and a smile broke out on his face. “It provides them an opportunity to connect with nature and share their pride in the size, sweetness and flavor of our peaches with coworkers and friends. The peach harvest is an event that our family has had in common for many years. It is a special time for sharing and new stories. Each year, through the labor of the harvest, we validate our commitment to the orchard, share ourselves and our stories and connect to each other and our friends,” he said. It was apparent how a lot of love and respect between a father and his children had evolved over their years of picking peaches. Audrey, Jane and I didn’t grow the peaches on our canning shelves, but we know the family who did. Knowing them and canning their peaches help us share ourselves and our stories.

The word “DIVERSITY ” is commonly associated with an increased tolerance of difference in one another. Decades ago, Albert Einstein wrote, “Human beings are a part of a whole called by us the ‘Universe’, a part limited in time and space. We experience ourselves, our thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circles of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.” Today we need our understanding of diversity to include the appreciation and valuing of unique characteristics, qualities or elements in ourselves, others and the natural world. This understanding allows us to shift our focus from merely tolerating difference to valuing uniqueness as a vital step in the development of a sustainable way of life for ourselves and others. Yet, to explore and comprehend the value of diversity, we must also consider what is common, for understanding commonality allows for inclusion of these diverse parts. Focusing on similarities helps to replace our resistance to difference with interest and curiosity. What we share in common helps us connect and value our own and others uniqueness with greater understanding and empathy and moves us toward embracing diversity and seeking compassion.

The spread of invasive, non-native species is one of the biggest threats to our native ecosystems, second only to habitat destruction through development. Introduced accidentally or intentionally, these exotic species thrive in our environment with few natural checks. Disturbances create openings in forests that are like highways for exotic species. In our community, the marks left by development and an artificially high deer population create opportunities for invasives to establish themselves in natural communities.

Exotics are extremely successful in their new homes. They often possess advantageous traits,
such as the ability to produce an enormous quantity of viable seeds or chemicals that inhibit the growth of other plants. These biological adaptations, coupled with their lack of natural predators, enable these plants to successfully crowd out the native flora.

Invasive plants can quickly reduce a landscape to a monoculture. Elimination of native species and an overall reduction of biodiversity are the dire consequences facing our fragile ecosystems. Plants and animals, including humans, depend on biodiversity for their survival. Recognition of invasive exotic species and the threat they pose is an important first step in combating this serious ecological problem.

The best way to completely eliminate these invaders is to pull them and allow the pulled weeds to dry thoroughly. Then burn or compost them.

Replanting with native species after removing invasive exotics is another step in the eradication process. Otherwise, openings left in ecosystems will quickly be re-colonized by invasive species, erasing the benefits of all your hard work! This is a two-step process; eliminate invasives and reclaim the natives. “Landscaping with Native Plants in Pennsylvania”, a Pennsylvania Department of Conservation and Natural Resources pamphlet, can help you to choose appropriate native plants.

(Adapted from “Invasive Plants”, compiled by the Tinicum Conservancy and The Morris Arboretum, U. of PA.)

THE BROCHURE CAN BE OBTAINED THROUGH:
The Department of Conservation & Natural Resources
Bureau of Forestry, P.O. Box 8552
Harrisburg, PA 17105
Tel: (717)-787-3444