Horizons are often difficult to judge. Sometimes things that seem far away turn out to be just over the next hill while other things that seem to be right at hand wind up being miles away. So it is with time. A deadline that seemed an eternity away is suddenly tomorrow and an idea that appeared so far away, surprisingly pops up into view. The Edible Schoolyard at OJA is experiencing just such: an exciting, long awaited, sudden development. Our team has long believed that our student’s cooking experience could be greatly improved by providing them with a true kitchen classroom. We have felt that the surrounding community might also enjoy this “seed to table” experience. We had faith that there were others who share our belief in edible education and would partner with us to create a vision of something new. This vision is quickly coming into focus in the form of a “kitchen house” and “give back garden”. An idea that once seemed “miles away” is suddenly on our doorstep. Through generous partnerships with Florida Hospital for Children and the Emeril Lagasse Foundation, we are creating an innovative space where students will be given the opportunity to learn about the source of their food. These students will also have a hand in growing and preparing that food, which we believe will inspire a healthier and more delicious lifestyle. Here are some architectural renderings provided by our design team partners, Midtown Architecture Studio and Hunton Brady Architects. Since this project lies on a plot of land across the street from the school our students will not be the only ones able to utilize this facility. Other schools will be invited to enjoy this space as a field trip destination without any compromise to our own campus routine.
This week some of our third graders were able to taste a garden fresh, Brandywine, heirloom tomato for the first time. This particular fruit was the first to ripen from their tomato patch. More are on the way. Brandywines have a long history of being known for their “true tomato” flavor, meaty flesh and unusual shape. This one lived up to that reputation. Whenever we enjoy something from the garden we try to link it to something in the classroom. Once you realize that everything is or can be connected, this isn’t really hard to do. It was decided that when we brought this tomato into the classroom we would also introduce the students to a metric scale. This particular model was a triple beam balance scale, so finding the weight of this trophy was fun and a bit challenging for them. We weighed a couple of other objects first (a big bottle of glue and an apple) and then tried to estimate the weight of the brandywine.
Of course a scale like this is interesting by itself, but when you put a big, red, juicy tomato on it; it is arguably more so. Not surprisingly, when you put a tomato on a novel piece of scientific equipment that tomato becomes more interesting as well. By the time we pulled out the knife and cut into it, kids were literally on the edge of their seats. There was enough for everyone to get a taste. Of course the first bite was free, but the second bite had to be earned by writing a couple of really good sentences in their garden journals. No problem.
Mrs. Webster’s Pre-K class recently enjoyed their day in the dirt. Tables were placed just outside the classroom with a wheelbarrow full of soil and some buckets of water standing by. One student, before the festivities, was overheard telling Mrs. Webster that he didn’t like getting dirty. Mrs. Webster just smiled. Behold the power of mud. It was no time before little hands and big imaginations dug in to create oatmeal and chocolate milk, cookie dough and pizza pies. Chocolate seemed to be a theme on the menu and it turns out everything tastes better with a garnish of grass clippings.
It may seem that these children are only having fun, but there is an underlying lesson. It’s a subtle message but one that is fundamental. Soil is the source of all that we eat. The sooner we can introduce this to children (even through play) the more likely they will value healthy real food and respect the process that brings it from that source to their table. In the mean time, bon appetit!
Time runs from us. It usually takes off in a sprint while we’re looking the other way. Moments quickly pass through our fumbling fingers and we rarely take notice. We’re drawn to details that seem permanent and ageless because they help distract us from the uncomfortable ticking clock. In reality though, building our lives around this distraction is a trap of denial. You can’t stop that clock, no more than you can stop that beautiful sunset. Ironically, part of what makes that sunset so great is that it runs away and doesn’t last. It’s unfortunate that we sometimes associate the temporal with the disposable. We question the value of things that don’t last. In our disposable culture that’s usually a reasonable question, but a sunset is not a paper plate. A melting snowflake is not a plastic fork. The natural world is full of the temporal that calls our attention to time not away from it. For some, the seasons are a drastic reminder of how nature seems to celebrate time. Floridians, however, have to look a little closer. So much of our landscapes here have been designed to appear unchanging. While pursuing the holy grail of the “maintenance-free yard”, we have wound up with an environment that looks pretty much the same in January as it does in July. What a shame. The passage of time should be celebrated. Poppies can help. They don’t last. Look the other way and you’ll miss the party.
The teachings of Jesus are full of references to the natural world. Much of the spiritual and abstract truths he shared were explained by comparing them to simple, physical experiences that were part of daily life. One example of this kind of teaching is found in the Gospel of John. Jesus points to a vine. Jesus was trying to give his disciples an understanding of their relationship to him and his heavenly father. No doubt, the disciples were confounded by much of what Jesus had to say about this relationship, but surely this illustration gave them comfort. Through this metaphor they could see that they were part of something greater than themselves and that there was one who cared for them, one who challenged and disciplined them for their own fruitful benefit. Pointing to a vine doesn’t answer all the questions. It doesn’t fill in all the blanks, but it does give an understanding. It opens a window. It encourages discovery. Thousands (maybe millions) of sermons have been inspired by this text, not because it is definitive or conclusive but because it allows the inconceivable to be recognizable and even a little familiar. Jesus is a vine. How unsacred. We are its branches. How comforting.
This week, our eighth grade students learned how and why our grape vines are pruned. They also learned about a divine relationship. After scripture was read to the sound of clippers, the conversation alternated between botanical and spiritual. It wasn’t definitive about either. We have a lot to learn about grapes and even more to learn about our relationship to God, but by comparing them we got to know each of them a little better.
Sometimes it happens, not as often as we would like, but sometimes it does happen. The thing that we imagined actually becomes a reality. The words come out right. The puzzle piece fits. The ball goes through the hoop and there’s nothing but net. It’s odd, but in big ways and in small ways we are often surprised when something actually works. We are surprised because we live in a world where expectations are raised to the point of fantasy and disappointment with reality is a daily experience. It’s easy to become so jaded when the product rarely lives up to the commercial. Nowhere is commercial hyperbole more rampant than in seed catalogs. Just open their pages and you will be convinced that the garden of Eden will pale in comparison to your own plot once you purchase a few packets of seeds. The bounty that is promised is staggering. Seed catalogs must be approached with a hefty shovel-full of skepticism. But every now and then, it happens. The pathetic little seed you receive in the mail, once planted, grows into the beautiful thing that you imagined. Fortunately, the longer you garden and the more you learn, the more this occurs. Such is the case with the beet pictured above. We’ve grown many scrawny, piddly little beets that were hardly worth eating much less photographing, but this year I think we’ve got it. For many, this may not seem like a big deal. (Maybe you don’t even like beets) Thousands of people grow bushels of beets every year and think nothing of it. Maybe that will be us one day, but honestly, I hope it’s not. I hope we continue to be stunned when we pull something like this out of the ground. Today, something will turn out as well as you imagined. Don’t let it slip by unnoticed. Celebrate it. Eat it up.
Two small pumpkins from our garden became pumpkin pie for our kindergarteners this week. Most of the journey from seed to pie plate happened right outside their classroom door. These students can tell you about this journey by what they’ve seen, what they’ve touched, what they’ve smelled, and yes what they have tasted.
OK, so its not the Great Pumpkin. It’s not huge. It’s not bright orange, and I’m a little skeptical about its flavor. There’s no mythology surrounding the Mediocre Pumpkin, but still, it’s a pumpkin. We’ll take it. On this Thanksgiving Day it’s especially important to look for blessings. Though the kindergarten class that planted seeds when school started had dreams of dozens of fat pumpkins the size of small cars, they still can enjoy at least one small pumpkin pie. The best thing about this pumpkin though is what is most valuable for every gardener: hope for next year. Inside this pumpkin will be seeds, little promises that remind us that this game isn’t over. There’s always next year when the soil might be more fertile, the weather might be better, and there might be fewer caterpillars… and for that, we are thankful.
It is a challenge to capture in a few words and pictures what our students experienced this last week at our annual Art in the Garden event. This is the day when several creative members of the community come to our campus to celebrate our pollinator garden and use their skills to engage students in conversations about the creative process. This year the diversity of talent was remarkable. When thirteen artists and performers enter a garden it is difficult to predict the variety of expression. From the silly to the sublime our students witnessed quite the spectrum of artistic interpretation. All were inspired by the same garden but each told a different story.
Consider the playful picture above. Few students (and even fewer adults) could resist adding found elements to this rather stoic portrait. This table provided a steady chorus of laughter all morning. Contrast that with the exquisite detail captured in a miniature watercolor and you’ll begin to get the idea.
Students witnessed big splashes of bright acrylic color as well as more subtle brushstrokes of oil paint. They had interesting discussions about everything from costume design to architectural structure and ornamentation . Several students had the opportunity to create innovative works inspired by environmental artists like Andy Goldsworthy. A visiting hive of honey bees displayed their own take on this type of environmental installation. All of this was accompanied by a beautiful flute and rhythmic percussion that gave a heartbeat to this lively morning. What a thing of beauty it is when so many talented artists come together to inspire and educate the next generation of creative thinkers and doers.