Our team is constantly curious. Observing, listening, and learning are core aspects of the work we do. And summertime, with its longer and lighter days, often provides more space and energy for cultivating our curiosity.

Sometimes this cultivation is literal – herbs in our windowsills, potted plants that we move from inside our homes to porch stoops for the warmer days, backyard garden boxes, and community farm plots. Many of us spend summertime weekends and evenings with our hands in soil, cultivating food.

This summer I am cultivating my own writing practice. I love to write and have not had space for writing (outside of work) for many years. This summer, whether I am writing a poem, a short story, or just a sentence, I am working to create quiet space to sit by myself and write at least a word every day.

What follows is a collection from some of our team members reflecting and sharing something that they are cultivating this summer. One thing to note is that not every team member’s voice is shared below. Some of us were off expanding our families, moving to new places and growing new relationships.

Happy summer season,
Meriwether

Cultivating equity

Intersectional thinking, and creating an intersectional lens to view life through, is a concept that I (as an individual) and we (as a company) have been exploring. I recently read The Intersectional Environmentalist by Leah Thomas, an educator and eco-communicator. Leah coined the term “intersectional environmentalism” to highlight the link between environmentalism, racism, and privilege.

In studying Leah’s words, it became clear that our process has not been comprehensive, consistent, or with righteous intention. Leah teaches that intersectional thinking is about seeing and understanding the layers and interconnections of life, and how to use that knowledge to make decisions and take actions that incorporate an understanding of those interconnections. When applied to environmental work, this means seeing the confluence of people and planet and holding space for social and environmental justice in every aspect of this work.

My goal this summer is to use the guidance and framework provided in this book to further cultivate intersectional thinking in myself and our organization. And in doing so, to fully adopt the concept and always name, celebrate, and uplift the folks that have worked for years to develop and refine the tools, language and concepts that manifest in intersectional environmentalism.

In some places this will be a subtle shift as we incorporate new vocabulary and a more complete understanding into our current process. In other areas of work, I think that it will act as a catalyst and forcing function—something that challenges us to evolve as an organization.

As we continue to work with landscapes and communities, we can consistently recognize the intersection and layering of social and environmental justice, clearly see both as deeply intertwined, and pursue work that makes improvements that are coordinated and in sync across the span of people and planet. — Morgan Maki

Cultivating Landscapes

Last year I started to better understand the benefits of xeriscaping, a process of landscaping that reduces or eliminates the need for irrigation. While I’ve always considered myself an environmentalist, my lifestyle and career never required me to maintain a garden or question what landscapes surround me, the resources it took to maintain them, and how it affected life around them.

Over the winter, I decided to xeriscape my own home’s yard and started to research the resources needed. In that process I found Resource Central, a conservation-focused non-profit based in Boulder, Colorado. They run many amazing programs but one of them is Garden in a Box. Through it I was able to purchase two waterwise garden kits which came with a variety of perennial plants, a design map, and maintenance instructions. While our front yard is still in the process of improvement, our plants have been growing and thriving since May.

This process has not been easy. It has required a lot of planning, troubleshooting, countless hours under the sun, and missed lunches. However, the connection I’ve made with the natural world in my own yard is worth the effort. Knowing that I am building something sustainable for our family, future owners, and the environment makes it meaningful. — Gigi Garcia

Cultivating a home

This summer is one of significant transition and new beginnings for myself and my family, catalyzed by a change in the physical location of our home, and all that comes with our new landscape. Although many of our physical belongings remain the same, our daily practices and just about everything else are vastly different. Much of this change was anticipated, and even sought after, but many aspects of our new life are a surprise. We have found ourselves relearning basic habits, grasping for old safety nets that no longer exist, and testing new routines as if they were a pair of pants. In so many ways, this move offers a chance for my partner and I to cultivate new relationships with other people, to this landscape, and even to each other.

Throughout this process we have been active, nearly always in full motion, driven by excitement and feeding off the sense of adventure. We find ourselves trying to take advantage of every opportunity to meet new people, try new things, and take on all the new house projects, all on top of our work and the other commitments we have brought with us.

I harbor a strong desire to cultivate an intimate relationship with this place; understand the nuances of its relationships, its tendencies, and figure out how I become an integral piece. Much of my energy and brain space is spent drafting up ways to build bridges and create gateways for my active participation. However, in my excited frenzy, I have often forgotten to slow down and listen to this place; to let the new rhythms and energies pass through me without intervention. While we may be cultivating a new home, a garden, a family, if we are to understand the niche we are meant to occupy here, we must allow this landscape and all that makes it up to also cultivate us. — Gaelen Means

cultivating joy

This year we are cultivating the customary vegetable garden — tomatoes, pumpkins, squashes, cucumbers, carrots, radishes, and herbs — with questionable levels of success (our tomato plants are only two inches tall… is that normal?). We are trying, too, to revive an ailing tree behind our backyard fence. To my chagrin, I have never had much of a green thumb. But earlier this year we began cultivating something entirely new to us, and in the form of a young pup named Betty. I can’t say for sure whether we are cultivating her, or she is cultivating us. Either way, she brings us an abundance of joy each and every day. — Jacob Ward

cultivating community

The great state of Vermont! Home of green mountains and white... people? From the outside looking in, this is our single story. While this is largely true for a majority of the state, this narrative does not define us. Over the past forty years Vermont has welcomed over 8,000 refugees, many of whom are multigenerational Vermonters at this point. At The People’s Farmstand, a free farmstand working with mostly new American families in Burlington, we believe it is critical to celebrate and honor the presence of our multicultural neighbors.

In planning our second season, we were hesitant to rely solely on white farmers to provide veggies for largely community members of color. That is why this season we are cultivating a relationship with Pine Island Community Farm, a community farm solely run by new American farmers representing 10+ countries. With support from Northeast Organic Farming Association of Vermont, we are seed swapping, harvesting, purchasing, and supplying culturally-important vegetables week in and week out. Through this partnership, we hope to strengthen community ties and play our part in a truly inclusive and welcoming Green Mountain state. — Nour El-Naboulsi

cultivating knowledge

As an East Coast native I've often asked my Colorado colleagues about unfamiliar plants I find on my runs and bike rides across the Front Range:

Do we have this in any of our perennial landscaping projects?
Yep, we planted that on Larimer Uprooted.

Is this a kind of sage?
Fringed sage. Great plant.

What is that grass name I like again?
Bouteloua gracilis, the common name is Blue grama.

This spring I moved into a new house in Boulder. Like many of our urban landscaping projects, the garden space in my new home is either full sun and dry or mostly shaded, the soil is mostly gravel, and we don't have a timed irrigation setup. Living in the west, I'm also increasingly aware of current and impending water crises across this half of the country, and reluctant to irrigate in an otherwise dry landscape.

Disappointed by bare bark mulch beds, we scattered a package of Colorado restoration seeds (native plants known to thrive in varied climates over 5000 feet) purchased impulsively on a trip to the local hardware store. Two months later, our unirrigated garden beds are starting to look a lot like the hills on my runs and bike rides – a daily reminder for me that cultivation is sometimes less about what we bring in than what we let grow – fringed sage and bouteloua included. — Tad Cooke