Soil to Story

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

all posts

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.

Welcome to the Jungle

I hate pruning; it’s destruction. These plants are doing their thing properly, expending energy, and (for the most part) I asked them all to be here. Every time I walk out to the garden, clippers in hand, I have the same thought:

Okay, I’ll prune. Just enough so we can walk through the paths again.

And every time, the garden laughs.

It’s like trying to tidy your hair during a hurricane. The tomatoes are flopping over the beans and all over the paths, the cucumbers are staging a coup, and the zucchini… well, the zucchini are planning world domination. Again.

Still, I try. I snip. I wrangle. I clear a little room to walk and admire and harvest without needing a machete.

And then the next day… It’s like I never did anything at all.

The Harvest Marches On

Even as I cut things back, the plants just keep producing. It’s relentless in the best possible way.

• The cucumbers have taken off.
• Beans somehow hide until they’re the length of a baguette.
• Tomatoes are in that pre-deluge stage: they’re not starting to blush yet, but plotting.
• Zucchini are pretending to be subtle while actually multiplying behind our backs.
• Lettuce is still hanging on, against all odds, but it’s starting to bolt.

Every time I think we’ve caught up, the garden makes a compelling counterargument. Especially the tomatoes: I think they might have enrolled in law school when I wasn’t looking.

But It’s Worth It

There’s something satisfying in the repetition. Walk, snip, harvest, repeat. Try to make a little space. Watch it fill in again. The rhythm of it makes the garden feel more like a living thing: it’s opinionated, abundant, and more than slightly out of hand.

Which is, let’s be honest, kind of the dream.

What’s Next

– Keep pruning (for mobility and tidiness; our deal was a not-ugly garden)
– Harvest early, harvest often
– Train the tomatoes before they unionize
– Take photos before it turns into a full jungle (again)

The garden gives. We snip. We snack. We try to keep the paths visible. And we love it, even when the zucchini start to conspire with those dang tomatoes.


Discover more from Soil to Story

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

Posted in

Leave a comment