Spring Forest Newsletter

News from the Gardens

We are so grateful for your support of our CSA, which helps to fund our free farmer's market for refugee families, and generous contributions to our local food bank. Last year over 64% of our produce went to people experiencing food insecurity. We could not offer this kind of assistance without our faithful subscribers and volunteers.

From the livestock department--two of our baby goats have had to shift to bottles due to a milking challenges, so they are becoming especially friendly with all the handling and milk. Some of our turkey babies are now the size of chickens, and Larrilou the cow is expansively pregnant, ready to deliver in a couple of weeks!

Just two more weeks to go, and then we'll be taking a break to transition our crops from summer to fall. Shares are limited, so please sign up soon for your fall subscription, which will bring sweet potatoes, okra, several kinds of winter squash, green beans, kale, tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, and more. 

Farm + Forest Summer Camp

We still have a few spots available for camp next week!

July 20-24

Reach out to Whitney at camp@springforest.org with any questions.

Until We Meet Again

By Sam Fisher

It is a strange thing to have expectations reshaped when you were never quite sure what to expect in the first place. For several years, Elaine’s invitation to come to Spring Forest lingered quietly within me, tugging at something deeper than curiosity. I had heard about the farm, the goats, the retreats, and the Grow It program, but I had not heard about the spirit of the place. I did not yet know about the grounding presence of the grandmother tree, or the quiet, steady energy of those who tend the land and care for its creatures.

Earlier this year, after my divorce, I found myself searching, longing for a place where I could tend to my grief. I needed somewhere that felt safe, a place that could hold the fullness of who I am while also making space for sorrow. Spring Forest was the first place that came to mind.

What I did not anticipate was how quickly I would fall in love with it.

There is something sacred in the rhythm of that place. The shared work, the honest conversations that emerge while thinning carrots, the gentle unraveling of control as you witness others doing things differently and begin to trust the wisdom of the collective. It is a quiet surrender, one that invites both humility and connection.

My days were spent among some of the most remarkable people I have encountered, not because we agreed on everything, or worked in the same way, or even shared the same beliefs, but because we were united in the conviction that the work mattered. And it mattered in a deeper way. It mattered because it rooted us in creation. It mattered because it made space for healing, both individually and in community. It mattered because the mission of Spring Forest is not just spoken; it is lived, embodied, and contagious.

The work itself offered something just as vital. It gave me permission to breathe deeply again. It invited me to slow down and pay attention to the small and often overlooked details of life. My ever-running internal clock began to reset. I found rest in the stillness of sunsets, in the crackling of a fire, and in the breathtaking sight of bugs crawling slowly across leaves. The greatest gift of Spring Forest (for me, and I hope others) has been the beginning of a new and healthier rhythm, one that is grounding me as I continue the work of healing and one day hope to move toward thriving.

I carry deep gratitude for this beautiful community and the gift it has been to me. I look forward to returning in the fall, perhaps to find newly married farmers settling into their shared life, to meet the now-grown turkeys and the piglets who will no longer be so small.

Until we meet again, you remain with me.

Flourishing Together

By Ben Yosua-Davis

Are humans any good for this planet? In the environmental circles in which I work, this question is brought up often, as our planet experiences the Sixth Great Extinction, rising temperatures, destroyed ecosystems, and a host of other interlocked environmental crises. In the face of the devastation we have caused our other-than-human kin, I frequently hear others ask whether the Earth would be better without us - whether humanity is an invasive species that has reached the end of its productive purpose.

In response to these doubts, Psalm 8:4-6 offers a powerfully positive vision for the role of the human in the more-than-human community. Here’s how the First Nations Version says it:

It made me wonder. Why do you think so much of humanity? Why do you watch over human beings so carefully?

You made them a little lower than spirit-messengers. You placed a headdress of honor on their heads.

You chose them to watch over all the works of your hands. You have put all of creation under their loving care.

Psalm 8 has often been used as an affirmation of human supremacy: the idea that the Earth was made primarily for our benefit and even for exploitation. But within an indigenous perspective, humanity is not at the top of a pyramid staring down the rest of creation, but is at the center of a web, using their incredible God-given agency to assure flourishing for all of God’s creation.