The soil food web

Permaculture [ pur-muh-kuhl-cher ] verb

A systems design science whereby regenerative actions are taken to build human habitat within a natural context rather than opposed to it.

Peregrination [ per-i-gruh–ney-shuhn ] noun

• travel from one place to another, especially on foot.
• a course of travel; journey.

In March 2020 when everything began to be shut down due to the onset of the COVID-19 virus it screwed up my plans. I know I’m not the only person it affected but still it needs to be stated. I convene permaculture courses with Pikes Peak Permaculture and we were on pace to have an amazing course with a good balance of students and teachers with great design sites. We managed to get in one weekend of our 9 month long course when the world began to shut down. I had plans the next month to travel to Arizona to The Canelo Project to participate in a straw bale building workshop, there was going to be a repeat visit the following October to participate in a workshop using a clay building medium to make art. Neither was meant to be.

Just about the same time the whole world was shutting down I was getting emails from a small company about their newly created course to learn about soil. It promised to teach about all the microscopic creatures in the soil and how they are what creates life and disease resistance in plants. I debated for a few days, it was an expensive investment. I kept oscillating between the ‘should I’ and ‘shouldn’t I’ argument. By the fifth day of arguing with myself about the pros and cons I received an email, this company worked out a payment plan for completing the course. This seemed to be my ticket. I didn’t have the nearly four thousand dollars in hand to get this information but I could certainly make some payments.

The terms of the payment plan were a little rough but I figured I could handle it for a little while. I had parsed down my expenses and had no debt. So I signed up. I’ll be honest, the thought of all the tests was intimidating. Yes, tests. This is self paced learning but on a time limit and actual testing to make sure you are learning the material before moving on to the next class. You only get one shot at making the grade (90% average to move on to more advanced training in the future).

Part way through this course my mom mentioned that this was quite fitting considering she never could keep me out of, or from eating, the dirt. Yeah, I was that kid.

I want to be able to say that I took to learning this new skill like a duck to water, I would be lying. It was fascinating and in some ways there was so much that just felt like I innately knew that the soil was so much more than just dirt. I was determined that a new career path was unfolding if I could just get it right. Because of this the amount of pressure I put on myself to get it right was enormous. Add in that the learning was all self paced online, no one really to answer real time questions, no one to confirm that my thought processes were headed in the right direction, no one to correct if I was on the wrong track. I took 5 of the 12 allowed months to finish the online portion. I feel like it should have been significantly less time than that, but with a full time job, a part time volunteer position, and a pandemic, it just wasn’t something that could be completed quickly. I probably made it harder than is actually was.

Once the online portion was completed I had to wait for an available mentor to finish the process, the microscopy analysis. Though I practiced I wasn’t confident in what I was identifying. Turns out I was doing just fine but again it was a lot of self imposed pressure, after all, I was contemplating this path as a career, wasn’t I?

My first successful thermophilic compost pile stressed me out. I liken the amount of attention it requires in the first few days to a quiet toddler in the other room, you have to go see what is going on because inevitably they are getting into some trouble. That pile got to a peak of 173 degrees Fahrenheit. This created a small amount of panic. Alcohol producing bacteria start rapid reproduction at 175 degrees. Alcohol combusts at 180. This is how you get compost fires. What was I doing with my life?! On one hand this was very cool science-y things that I really loved and on the other, the possibility of a fire, or worse the creation of a pile that could make me sick if it went anaerobic. It turned out that I didn’t need to really worry about either scenario and the pile did what a well built compost pile does, it decomposes. Through the process I was able to see some really interesting life through the lens of my microscope. And learn that microscopy makes me nauseous. How was I supposed to make a career out of this if looking at tiny microcosms made me sick?

It turns out that on a sunny morning while feeding all my creatures, looking at Pikes Peak I had a confessional moment with myself. I didn’t want to be strictly a soil consultant, or own a compost company. I wanted to be a permaculturist, with all the complexity that comes with being a permaculturist. Examining soil we find a complex system of partnerships, high diversity, and relationships that keep the system cycling. Permaculture is much the same, design with partnerships, diversity, and relationships that support balanced systems that keep cycling.

Soil education is a huge part of what I do now, but design is the key to systems that are resilient. Permaculture is the design process that chose me.