Growing Power

If you've seen the most hopeful of the recent spate of food movies, Fresh, you probably remember Will Allen, the former professional basketball player turned urban farm inspiration. When my Mom saw the movie some months ago, she was so inspired she wished she could do an internship; not feeling ready to abandon her normal life for three months, she decided a weekend workshop would be a good option, and invited the girls of the family to join her. (My Dad went to Milwaukee, too, but he did a three-day aquaponics course, so we didn't see him too often.)

The travel proved more challenging than usual: from Portland's loss of all airplane fuel, which meant the Colorado group had a five hour delay while their plane trucked in fuel, to major connection issues that meant I didn't land at 11:30pm in Charlottesville but at 1am in Richmond, going and coming was rough. But the time there was quite fun.

Will Allen is twenty years in to his urban farming venture. It was interesting to hear that, in the last year, his employees have grown from 60 to about 150; in the last four years, he's grown from the urban three acres to 300 acres. His speaking schedule looked exhausting: over forty speeches last year, not counting the seven workshop weekends that require one or two addresses to the group. It was helpful to remember that, even ten years ago, the incredible energy and action at Growing Power was still a dream.

During his main address, he mentioned that one doesn't become a farmer overnight. No kidding. That the biggest shortage he sees around the world is a lack of farmers. That he wishes he could grow passion as he grows tomatoes. That farming can be extremely discouraging. It was helpful to hear that from someone basically successful.

It was interesting to see how very well he uses the resources of an urban farm. From the 5600 volunteers last year, to the mountains of woodchips the city delivers, to the dozens of stores that offer spoiled produce pickup for composting, he has resources that would require a prohibitive amount of time and fuel for our more local space.

Interesting, too, to see what looks like a highly profitable venture—the microgreens themselves probably net somewhere over $4000 per day; the seven workshop weekends probably each bring in about $30,000 profit—is actually a non-profit, earning just over half of the operating expenses from goods and services, the rest from grants and donations. For all my angst over our lack of profitability, I suppose there is some comfort that, really, the important thing is to just keep on getting by. If we manage that by me working half time and Phil working as work comes in, and Growing Power manages by over 40 different income streams, we are both successfully acquiring tools and skills, both hopefully changing the world a bit at a time (they perhaps a bit MORE at a time ... but they are twenty years in).

Passion was not lacking at Growing Power: we were amazed by the enthusiasm, extroversion, and excitement displayed by all the staff we met.

I loved the tour, especially how they made do with what they had. Growing mushrooms? Put the spawn in recycled feedbags. Raising fish or need a rain water catchment area? Dig a ditch, put wood around the edge, put down pond liner, and staple to the wood. Done! Experiment with black soldier flies; put worms in dry stacked concrete blocks; compost in five-pallet cubes.

So it was a great trip. I stayed up until midnight Milwaukee time talking, and got up on Virginia time; coupled with the late night coming home, I did little yesterday but sleep and recover, and needed another 90 minute nap today.

The guys did little but survive while I was away; we've had massive rainfall both yesterday and today. Phil ordered the plywood and insulation today, after figuring out some detailing, and then took a long, somewhat frustrating trip to the hardware store, without finding the right size screws. You would think that a big box like Lowe's would have a range of sizes!

So Underground Storage progresses little, but I have inspiration in spades.