Early Spring Feeling

Changes at Fox Hollow and a Visit to Appalachia

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On a cool Sunday morning with a fresh cup of coffee in hand, my bare feet hit the stones at the bottom of the back porch steps. The air was thick with almost-rain and our resident crows were cawing loudly with cardinals, blue jays, and bluebirds as backup. Virginia spring beauties created an ethereal fairy world beneath the giant oak trees, just beginning to open up with the sun. This magical feeling is one that only exists at a certain time of day during a certain time of year: an early morning in early spring. In the coming months, the cool mornings will give way to mornings thick with heat and humidity. The sound of chittering birds will yield slightly to buzzing insects working tirelessly. But for now, I soak in this particular early spring feeling.

sea of virginia springbeauties beneath the oak tree in mid-March

The backyard garden that lies in partial shade of giant old oaks is still covered with a layer of fall leaves, home to many tiny creatures that rest in deep slumber until a few weeks from now. These creatures are pollinators that will tend to our plants, helping them flourish and thrive. It is always so tempting on the first warm days of spring to clear away the leaves lying in a thick layer atop the soil. I want to dig in and touch the dirt, allow sleeping seeds from last year to breathe and be touched by the sun so that they will begin to grow. Admittedly, I also want to see the clean lines of pathway and garden bed, organized and ordered. But I know it isn’t time yet, and I know that my eagerness for order and delineated lines are mine alone— not nature’s. No, nature prefers a slow emergence of purple deadnettle and chickweed growing defiantly across the garden paths, jumping over hurdles of border logs and crawling through fences. The bees appreciate the untamed nature of these early spring ephemerals too. I see them buzzing around from flower to flower, probably nectar-drunk and happy.

A Visit to Appalachia in Early Spring

Early spring took us to an incredible music festival which took place in downtown Knoxville, Tennessee. We spent a long weekend traipsing in and out of immaculate theatres and auditoriums, hearing the most beautiful music live and seeing some true bucket-list musicians play. Being so close to the Great Smokey Mountains National Park, we obviously had to take a day to get into the hills and witness the beauty of Appalachia. We took a Sunday morning to hike around the park. I have always heard that this, the most visited park in America, was crawling with visitors at all times, making it difficult to access that serene nature feeling. However, on this Sunday, there weren’t too many people as it was raining on and off and it was the last day of spring break for many families. Once we got far out of the trail, we only passed a few groups of other hikers.

The beauty was astounding, as expected. We saw incredible mountain views, waterfalls, giant boulders covered in moss and lichen, mushrooms, ferns, great laurel, and even spotted a yellow trillium!

yellow trillium, about to bloom

16,000 steps a day, five days later, we returned home to our land to cooler temps and heavy rains. Perfect weather for spending a bit more time garden planning…

Garden Beginnings (Again)

On a Sunday afternoon in early March, I sat cross-legged on the porch with my sister-in-law making seed blocks and catching up. We lined old baking trays and repurposed spinach containers with blocks of dirt, dropped seeds in small holes in the top of each one, and covered the seeds. She took hers home (just a short walk away from mine) and set them in a well-lit room to nurture. Mine were sat under grow lights on a storage shelf the previous owners left in our garage. It is now early April and they’re doing quite well (for both of us) and are nearly ready to be transplanted— just waiting on the sureness of no frost to go outside. Starting seedlings is one of my favorite parts of gardening. That is partly because of the excitement of the garden to come, and partly because it’s the most controlled part of gardening. I can give the seeds a perfectly controlled environment consisting of adequate sun and water and they won’t experience any sudden weather shifts until they’re bigger and stronger. Of course, not all seeds get started indoors, mostly just a few annuals that have trouble surviving early spring like tomatoes and peppers. Others like cucumbers, flowers, squash, radishes, greens, etc. are sown directly into the soil outside.

Besides seeds, I’ve also started this year’s future sweet potato harvest. I left organic sweet potatoes from the grocery store sitting in a hanging basket for so long they sprouted slips. I carefully removed the slips (17 of them) from the potatoes and put them in a jar of water in my kitchen windowsill. Several months later, the roots had grown from 3 to 6 inches long. I reused 4-inch pots from last season to put them in the dirt, acclimating them to soil for their futures in the garden. They’ll be planted outside in early summer, when the soil temperature is consistently above 65 degrees F.

putting sweet potato slips into pots

Living Mulch

Peas and oats are beginning to sprout, having been sown as cover crop in some new and old garden beds we’re preparing. Some of these beds were scratched up by our chickens last fall using the chicken tractor and have overwintered under a thick layer of fallen oak leaves. Peas and oats will add nutrients to the soil after they’re terminated in summertime. Terminated meaning they’ll be crimped down, leaving their roots in the ground to add structure to the soil while they decompose. We will plant something new directly in the soil amongst the terminated cover crop, the peas and oats acting as living mulch. “Living mulch” is a method used to keep tilling to a minimum or cut it out completely. It provides nutrients to the soil, offers weed control, helps protect soil from extreme weather and temperatures, feeds soil microbes, and enhances soil ecology. Some plants we use as living mulch include peas, oats, rye grass, clover, buckwheat, and spring ephemerals like purple dead nettle (before they fade and disappear in early summer).

On the Land

The flora and fauna of the land here changes a bit with each passing year, but recently I was thinking about how things were when we moved here and was struck by the difference. The first year we lived here (the latter half of 2021 to 2022), there were boundless improvements to make. Diving into ecology care and farming on a meager budget has presented plenty of challenges and lots of opportunity for learning and growth. The understory of half the forest had heartbreakingly been demolished— mulched down by a forest mulcher, diesel had been poured along fence lines to deal with weeds, the grass had been meticulously kept short, the soil was degraded, likely from overgrazing of animals. Not to mention that the 1960’s farm house needed a lot of work (still does, but we’ve made some decent improvements).

First, we started a compost pile. Building up compost resolved the issue of potential food waste while also generating soil amendment for free. Another of the first projects we started working on was building healthy soil. We started with a small patch of garden in the back yard, close to the house and in partial shade of massive oaks. Eventually, we expanded to a larger full-sun garden out in the field, a bit further from our home. That year’s garden saw some pollinators for sure. In the summer, we would sit on the back porch in the evening, catching glimpses of fireflies here and there.

The next project was focused on was lessening the population of plants that cause harm or disruption to the ecosystem. We started by removing bradford pear trees by cutting them at the base, cutting into the stump itself, and burning a small fire on top of the base. We also had tons of trees of heaven, a tree which grows in an invasive way in this ecosystem, overcrowding the forest and acting as a host plant for the similarly detrimental spotted lanternfly. There was a “mother” tree on the edge of the woods, surrounded by lots of smaller trees. There were (are) also hundreds, not an exaggeration, of new shoots of this tree that pop up all over the field. Damien cut the largest trees, using the timber to build garden fences and leaving the rest to cure for firewood. Removing the new shoots is an ongoing process. As we walk around the land and see them, we pull them up with the roots. Our young nephews who also live on this land are helpful with the endeavor, being paid a little money for their efforts of pulling up these small trees of heaven when they’re out and about.

The following year saw even more pollinators when spring came. We noticed more and more birds, bees, caterpillars, moths, and butterflies. We noticed more spring ephemerals growing in and out of the garden, helping to build the soil along with us. I learned more about edible and medicinal herbs that grow here: yarrow, mullein, goldenrod, chickweed, purple nettle, plantain, blackberries, wild bergamot, redbuds, etc. and began building up a small apothecary of these plants.

shadblow serviceberry (not our photo)

We planted close to 50 trees and shrubs of native species: paw paws, redbuds, witch hazel, serviceberries, cherry trees, pecan trees, milkweed, and loads more. We mowed paths through the fields but left most of it to grow tall so that birds could use the foliage as food and shelter in the winter and so we could harvest some of it for compost and chicken coop bedding. Our chickens generated nitrogen-rich compost that we used in the garden and they supplied us with lots of protein-rich eggs.

In 2024, we saw even more wildlife than the year before. On porch-sitting summer nights, we saw hoards of fireflies. More diverse birds visited us like goldfinches, bluebirds, carolina wrens, dark-eyed juncos, indigo buntings, and more, some making homes in birdhouses we set up for them. I still can’t confirm if they used the house we set up for them, but we saw an increase in bats as well! Bats eat thousands of pesky insects like mosquitos in an hour. They also disperse seeds throughout the ecosystem and they are night shift pollinators. Just the other night, when temps had risen and some bugs had emerged, we watched a couple of bats swoop down and around us while we sat quietly on the back porch.

Things have changed a lot, and we are grateful to see some fruits of our labor. Going forward, we are focused on growing food for ourselves and to share with others, continuing to build healthy soil both in and out of the garden, repopulating parts of the forest that were heartbreakingly demolished, and building community with those around us. I’ll dive more deeply into how we’re doing each of these things in the coming months.

lilac blooms, yarrow, and cover crop emerging

At this moment on April 5, redbud flowers are fading to leaves, dogwoods are blooming, kale is nearly ready for harvesting, oak leaf hydrangeas I planted last year are re-emerging, garlic is getting taller, the creek is flowing, and so much more is happening around the land. We’re having heavy rain and thunderstorms— my favorite weather and possibly my favorite time to be in the Ozarks— which have filled our rain barrels to overflowing. As soon as the rain slows and the temperatures rise a bit more, all the rest of our outdoor garden planting will commence!

Until then, I’ll be admiring the dogwoods and dipping my toes into the cold, rushing creek.

Cheers,

Allyson