By Tuula Rebhahn
This week's Sharing Gardens post is actually a re-post from
our new friends Hannah and Tuula - two brave adventurers who are weeks
away from embarking on an epic 5,000-mile journey from Eugene, Oregon to
Boston, Massachusetts. Along the way they will work and stay at
farms in order to bring awareness to issues of local food, and bicycling
as important ways of reducing one's "carbon footprint".
Here is an article Tuula wrote about their recent visit to the Sharing
Gardens, and our tiny home in the woods. We feel the article really
captures the spirit of our lifestyle and why we do what we do. Enjoy!
Hannah and I hopped off our saddles when our tires turned on the gravel
parking lot of Monroe, Oregon's stately white church, the tallest
building in town. We pulled in under a sheltered picnic table made from a
single 100-foot slab of Douglas fir. Immediately, we knew two things:
One, that this place has hosted meals of epic proportions. Two, we would
be glad we made the trip out this way. What we didn't know that the
afternoon would change the way we thought about our relationship to the
world, our community, and to each other.
It had been a slow start. With the wind blowing the rain sideways, and
our lack of experience doing day trips by bike, we were nervous. I
packed extra snacks and cinched my rainpants on tight.
As we pedaled north out of Eugene, suburban sprawl slowly dissolved into
farmland, and the horizontal rain gave way to occasional drizzle and a
road-spanning rainbow. With the squash harvest just completed, the
sunlit fields gave off a dizzyingly sweet aroma of baked pumpkins.
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| Hannah grazes on roadside blackberries on the way to Monroe. |
This is one of my favorite regions of Oregon - the picture-perfect
fields, barns and country roads that roll over the landscape from our
valley to the coastal mountains make it a cyclist's, as well as a
farmer's, paradise. In all of this agricultural richness, however, many
lack access to fresh foods. Monroe, a community of about 700 people
living 15 miles from the nearest grocery store, is the perfect example
of this. Or was, at least, until Chris and Llyn moved to town in 2008.
My estimate of how long it would take us to ride the 23 miles from our
house to Chris and Llyn's garden project was a bit conservative. For
once, I was early. As we waited for our hosts to arrive, catching
glimpses of the garden through the fence beyond the picnic table, Hannah
started asking questions, questions I didn't have the answer to.
"So, who are these people again?"
"They run this thing called the Sharing Gardens." Hannah is always up
for a bike ride, and I'd coordinated the destination. I'd heard about
Llyn and Chris' innovative take on community gardens, and Monroe was
about the right distance away for us to begin training for longer bike
rides. They'd responded to my email with enthusiasm. That's about all I
knew so far.
Finally, an old green GMC truck pulled into the gravel drive, and the
faces I saw through the windshield beamed a warmth and light that cut
through the drizzle. We were rewarded for our trek by a hug from Llyn
and a couple of pears harvested from a nearby tree.
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| October 2012 - preparing ground for cover-cropping |
The garden was pretty much done for the season, all the crops harvested
and the beds turned over, but as we walked between the rows, I could
tell by the richness of the soil that these guys knew what they were
doing. Inside the tiny greenhouse, we found proof in the gorgeous ripe
tomatoes, as well as racks of drying peppers and bean pods. Designed and
built by Chris and Llyn, the greenhouse was a tropical oasis this time
of year. As we basked in the warmth, the couple told us their story.
Five years ago, they were fed up with paying too much in rent, working
unrewarding jobs, and not being able to exercise their full ability to
help the community. They were searching for a way to redefine the living
standards that most of us in this country take as non-negotiable: You
work, you pay for a place to live and for food to eat, and if you want
to do anything more, you incur debt.
In Monroe, they found what they were looking for: a tiny house whose
owners were willing to let them work off a portion of the rent, leaving
them with free time to pursue other projects. The fact that the tiny
house is a travel trailer with less floor space than some people's
bathrooms didn't deter them. In fact, they considered a healthy way to
eliminate all but the essentials in life.
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| Staking out the garden - March 2010. |
|
The couple founded the Alpine Garden in a tiny community just west of
Monroe in 2009. Finding that they needed a slightly larger population to
sustain the garden, they put feelers out again for the perfect plot of
land. When they spotted an empty lot behind Monroe's church, they knew
they had found what they were looking for. They contacted the owner of
the property, who not only agreed to allow the couple to plow up the
grass and plant a garden, he also offered to pay the water bill - a big
deal for gardeners in a valley that receives almost no summer rainfall.
"Well, shall we sit at the picnic table and shell beans while we visit?"
Llyn asked. I could see how her energy contributed to transforming what
was a weedy patch of grass in the beginning of 2010 to what the Sharing
Gardens is today: A vital source of fresh produce for 75-100 families
in the area. We grabbed tubs of dried scarlet runner beans and made our
way back to the wooden benches.
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| Monroe Sharing Garden August 4, 2012 |
|
Most community gardens comprise individual garden plots assigned to
families, who are then completely responsible for keeping up that plot
year-round. At The Sharing Gardens, all the spaces are communal,
allowing everyone to grow more in the long beds than they could ever do
in shorter, individual ones. Working like peas in a pod has its
challenges, but with Llyn and Chris as the dedicated core volunteers,
the garden has the leadership and communication structure to stay
productive.
While only a handful of people appear at the garden regularly to help
out, around fifty are part of the volunteer network. Others give in
other ways, with donations of cash and materials. It's all paid off for
the community: This year, the garden produced 30 different crops, and
the top ten producers weighed in at 6,200 pounds.
Dipping into the tub of pea pods, Hannah broke her silence with a typical to-the-point inquiry.
"Don't you worry about healthcare? Retirement? Getting away once in a while?"
Our hosts smiled serenely. They are perfectly healthy, they told us.
They never want to retire. When they feel the urge to travel, they get
in their roomy van (their second vehicle) and go camp out somewhere.
Other volunteers run the garden while they're gone. Of course, they do
rely on cash for some living expenses, and continue to use their savings
while their new way of life comes to an equilibrium.
We needed to know more. We invited ourselves to Chris and Llyn's travel
trailer to explore their take on efficiency housing - the sharing
philosophy applied to their own lives. They kindly accepted our invite
and drew us a map, promising to follow in their truck once we'd gotten a
good head start.
So far, the biking part of this journey had been easy (ie, flat). Now,
we were climbing a long, windy hill into Christmas-tree-farm territory.
Ten minutes later, wheezing, we took a right turn and were headed down
again, accelerating a bit recklessly, my hair beating against my helmet
like a hundred tiny flags snapping in the wind. As soon as I remembered
to check the numbers on the mailboxes as we flew by, we had arrived.
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| Chris and Llyn live in the 'Spartan Imperial Mansion' on right (320 sq/ft). The 23-foot trailer on the left serves as a guest room and extra storage. |
As we turned into the driveway, the big green truck rumbled up behind
us. We got out of the way. With a light tap from the truck's bumper, the
big metal gate flew right open. Sheep galloped to the fence bordering
the driveway, serenading us with comical bleats. We closed the gate and
followed the truck up the hill.
The travel trailer was just that, and nothing more. The special thing
was how Chris and Llyn used the space. Most of the trailer's storage
goes to food - jars of applesauce, dried beans, onions, canned tomatoes -
most of it from the Sharing Gardens. They removed the table and benches
that normally take up most of a travel trailer's living area and laid
down a beautiful rug. Now, the space functions both as a Japanese-style
eating area and a yoga studio, dance floor, or whatever.
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| Inside their home. This view is from the loft-bed, looking into the kitchen. |
We stepped back outside to tour the outdoor kitchen. Llyn made the
excellent point that most kitchen activities that require a lot of space
- canning, dehydrating, juicing, etc - can be done on a nice day in a
covered area that doesn't necessarily need to be indoors. On the porch
attached to the trailer, they installed a counter, sink, and propane
burner. They do all their everyday cooking in the trailer, and they use
the outdoor kitchen for bigger projects.
We spent the rest of the afternoon on the rug, sharing a bowl of walnuts
harvested on Chris' recent trip to California and a quart of homemade
grape juice. We told stories and discussed the obstacles people face in
embracing a shared lifestyle.
The Sharing Gardens has been a success because it lives up to its name;
everyone in the community has access to the bounty, and the shared space
makes the best use of everyone's skills. On a personal level, Chris and
Llyn, who had only been together two years before they launched into
the full-time-volunteer lifestyle, have been able to live in a tiny
space on a very limited budget without going crazy because they have an
exceptional ability to respect each other's needs.
"We're cultivating we-consciousness," says Chris.
Whoa. For Hannah and I, it's been one thing to work together, live
together, and plan the Food Cycles tour together. Functioning as a
single cognitive unit? This was a whole new level to consider.
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| Llyn on loft-bed. Food storage below. |
The travel trailer was a sanctuary and Chris and Llyn felt like old
friends, but we had to get back home while the sun was still awake. With
bellies full of tree protein and heads swimming with ideas and wisdom,
we strapped our helmets back on and rolled down the driveway. The sheep
shouted their goodbyes.
All the way home, I turned over Chris and Llyn's simple but
transformative act of building a garden in a community that desperately
needed one. Can it be replicated elsewhere? People like them don't come
along every day - Chris and Llyn have a lifetime of experience in
sharing through communal living situations, were prepared to go
minimalist and didn't have debts to pay off or chronic health issues.
Then again, even if they did, I had the feeling they would probably
still find a way to make it work.
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| Volunteers select produce for personal use. No one is ever charged anything for the food. |
The Sharing Gardens isn't just a way to get fresh food to a community
that lacks it. It's a gathering point and educational tool; this fall,
the group hosted a 150-person "Farm to Farm" bike ride, and is offering
potlucks and beginning cooking classes in the church. For Chris and
Llyn, it's been a path to fulfillment and a way to test and strengthen
their relationship. Maybe all food-culture transformations have to
happen this way, with a deep dedication to sharing, not only of our time
and energy, but also of our philosophies.
City lights welcomed us back home as we pedaled the final miles. When we
walked back into our small two-bedroom house, it seemed cavernous and
excessive. Still, the ride had been a success, food for the soul and for
the body: Llyn and Chris had sent us home with a bag full of the best
walnuts we'd ever tasted.
***
To find out more about Hannah and Tuula's
Food Cycles Bicycle Tour visit their site
HERE.
Click here to read Bios of Tuula and Hannah
