Soil to Story

We grow things. We make things. Sometimes we even finish them.

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Welcome to our little slice of not-quite-a-farm.

We left Seattle and settled on a couple acres in Tacoma: enough room for a big garden, a workshop big enough for any fantasy, and a future full of slow-made things.

Right now, we’re digging up rocks (so many rocks), planting beds where there used to be lawn, cooking with what we grow, and building things.

The “back 40” might hold sunflowers, or corn, chickens, or goats someday, but for now, it’s just holding possibilities.

Soil to Story is where it all comes together: the garden, the workshop, the kitchen, and Paper Trail, my custom memory book studio. This is a work-in-progress kind of life, shared one dirty, delicious, half-baked story at a time.

Marking our Territory

I have a degree in sculpture. That’s exactly the sort of academic background that leads directly to a successful career in tech: I’m a forward thinker, for sure.

Every now and then, though, I like to tell myself that arts education comes in handy.

This spring, I needed plant markers—something to help me remember what I’d planted and where, especially while everything still looked like “mystery green thing with two leaves.”

So I did what any reasonable person with a shelf of polymer clay and a history of making tiny things might do.

I made little vegetable sculptures. The better ones came later, but I didn’t do so well at taking photos. The Super Sugar Snap pea has a little cape. The Lazy Housewife bean is in a rocking chair. They all brought me an unreasonableamount of joy.

Plant markers

This batch includes:

  • Melting Sugar Snow Peas
  • Purple Cauliflower
  • Purple Podded Peas
  • Kentucky Wonder Beans
  • Romanesco
  • Clementine Cauliflower
  • Lunchbox Cucumbers
  • Blue Lake Beans
  • Mixed Radishes
  • Sugar Snap Peas

They each got a bamboo skewer; later on, I made them with metal ones that should hold up better. I doused them in resin and poked them into the beds. They’re functional, and just silly enough to make me giggle.

Because I could’ve used popsicle sticks, sure. But if the craft goblin in me can find an excuse to make something small out of clay, it’ll do it 10 times out of 10.


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