Growing Into Our Growing Shoes

Since our years in college, neither Richard nor I have worked a single job just for the money. Our jobs in California were gratifying, but not very lucrative. The funds we had saved from teaching dwindled quickly on our move across the country. Now, as we move into the Maine winter with part-time jobs and spend most work days building ReTreeUS as volunteer co-managers, we are poor in money but rich in dreams.

And as much as I like to think dreams are all that matter, I admit it takes money to make them come true. After a season of acquiring in-kind donations and key connections in the region, we are beginning to gain some funding. We have Joe Bornstein, our first Orchard Donor, on board, and the potential for a nursery is--literally--on the horizon.

Yesterday, we laughed at our extremely low-tech measurement methods while counting our steps around the perimeter of a hillside. This land will be tilled and planted with rye next week to prepare the soil for apple, pear and plum tree saplings next spring.

This stake marks a far corner of our soon-to-be nursery. We marked the 1/3-acre plot yesterday to be tilled and planted with winter rye in preparation for planting our first nursery trees next spring. 

The hill gets plenty of sun, especially in the morning, has both north and south-facing slopes, drains well, and is surrounded by native blueberry bushes, some of which will also go into school orchards.

The first lucky school to receive an orchard will benefit directly from the steps we take now. Each step we take to count out the footage of our nursery land leads to another student happily taking a bite from the apple he or she helped grow. Step-by-step, we are growing into our growing shoes.

Moriah poses in front of a White Ash tree we will use to heat our home this winter. The paragraphs below detail what it's like to build an organization on nothing but dreams--such as, how does one take care of necessities, like eating, staying warm, and enjoying the weekends?

As exciting as this work is, the adventure of building a life together, and an organization, on two part-time incomes alone is a roller-coaster ride to match.

Luckily, nature provides the best and cheapest thrills in the universe...and Richard and I have front-row seats.

Yesterday, we decided to forego a trip to Portland because gas is too expensive, both for our pocket books and for the planet. Instead, we took a ride on the river; it cost us no money and required no fossil fuels.

We had been visiting the river on foot for a few weeks. With every visit came a moving gift for both of us: the call of a Kingfisher, the close-encounter with a Great Blue Heron, or the family of Bald Eagles flying majestically and squawking hilariously nearby. Each time, we noticed that, if we had left a moment sooner, or looked away from the river too soon, we would have missed the gift. It seemed each animal siting was another reward for spending time with our old river friend.

And so the time came to further explore it.

Our generous neighbors loaned us their canoe, which had missed the water for years and years. There it sat on wooden stands, collecting dust and sparrow droppings, providing habitat for spiders and goodness knows what else, just waiting to be on the water again. We lifted it precariously out of our neighbors' barn, strapped it to our car roof, and sprayed it with the hose before carrying it to the river.

We dragged it down our massive hill trail and realized that either we would need to find an easier way of getting it back home, or the up-hill climb with a heavy canoe would have to be worth it for the beauty and adventure we were about to encounter.

Turns out, it was worth every moment of trouble and more.

We paddled downstream beyond eddies and ripples, reflections and rocks, to a mysterious channel we found drawing us to it. We turned to see how far down the secret passage we could go and noticed a fat, furry creature working dutifully on the bank.

I pointed emphatically so Richard would see, but I didn't dare make a noise. Richard was already watching, too.

The creature's long, flat tail, alongside a large, felled tree in the water, helped us identify him (or her) as a beaver. We watched as he wobbled down the steep slope to the river, fell over on his back for a moment, and then calmly swam under his tree...all within about ten feet from our boat.

The beaver seemed not to mind us at all as he dove under a pile of leaves and carried them out of the channel on his back. He looked like a floating branch.

From the beaver experience to the sandy beach, where there were no human prints but many signs of heron and otter...to the circumnavigation of an island we had been scoping now for weeks...the gifts were multiplied again and again.

When we got home we called Richard's mom to tell her about our trip along the Androscoggin River, which she had seen but never been on in her 30 years of living close by. She told us she had had hopes of going out on that river when she moved here long ago. But at that time, she said, the river was so polluted she could smell it from the banks, and it seemed a far-away vision to go out onto the water--even in a boat.

She was happy to hear that all the community clean-ups had worked, and that, in this case, big dreams and a little bit of money had brought the river a long, long way.

Just another example of dreams, work, and multiplying gifts...

We think that growing into your growing shoes--no matter who you are, how much money you start out with, or what positive goal the shoes help you accomplish--is an exciting and worthwhile challenge. We thank you for your support of our dreams, and we encourage you to pursue your own.

Getting inspired for our own projects...

Enjoying apples from another Maine orchard.