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.

  • Definitely Doing That Again

    It’s only midsummer, and I already have a list of things we’ll absolutely be doing again. And that feels so joyful.

    While there are plenty of lessons learned the hard way (I’m looking at you, non-sprouting seeds), there are also a few choices that have been so successful, so satisfying, that I’m already planning to repeat them next year. Or expand them. Or just wax poetic about them for a few paragraphs.

    Cattle Panel Trellises

    Unquestionably, I am now a cattle panel trellis enthusiast. I love them. I LOVE them. They’re sturdy, architectural, and so satisfying to walk under. I can’t explain it; I just enjoy it.

    Our garden’s on a slope, and cattle panels aren’t cheap, so we spaced them out about 25 feet apart and ran string between them for the beans, peas, cucumbers, and tomatoes to climb.

    We knew this one was a risk, but it worked pretty well! That said, shorter spans of string next time would help things stay a little tighter and more orderly. (The beans, as they have demonstrated, have creative braiding skills.)

    But the panels themselves… We’ll be adding more next year. No question.

    The Flowers

    I will absolutely do a flower row again and flowers at the end. Probably earlier and probably more; they’re a little more sparse than I hoped, but I love them.

    They’re beautiful. They’re good for the bees and hummingbirds. They make the garden feel like a place meant to be lived in, not just worked. The pollinators have shown up in full force, and I give at least partial credit to the blossoms lining the beds and climbing the trellises.

    Sweet peas, in particular: I’d never grown them before, and I’m completely smitten. They’re delicate, lightly fragrant, and so pretty. More of those, for sure.

    Heavy Mulch on the Paths

    It’s not a miracle cure, but it helps a lot.

    We went heavy on the wood chip mulch this year, and while it hasn’t eliminated weeds entirely (because, let’s be honest, nothing will), it’s slowed them down enough that the paths feel manageable. And I can point to the spot where we ran out before the next load arrived: the weeds marched with hand-painted signs:

    – “Wild is our way.”
    – “We grow where others won’t.”
    – “Uninvited, undefeated.”

    I learned that lesson.

    Also, the mulch is comfy. It smells good (at least at first). It makes the garden feel finished, even when it’s overgrown and I’m behind on pruning.

    Definitely doing that again.

    I’ve been so delighted with the garden this year. It’s been a ton of work. It’s been a mess sometimes. But it’s been joyful and productive.

    It’s only midsummer. There’s so much more to come.