A sharp right into an inconspicuous grass lawn off Ethridge lane in Manteo brings you to a small farm called Croatan Gardens. Unlike the monocu
lture corn fields lining NC-64, this plot is packed with diverse fruits, flowers (four foot tall dahlias), and vegetables. All tilled, planted, and harvested by my coworker Eric Soderholm, the garden is a glimpse of sustainable, coastal agriculture. The plot used to be your typical American grass lawn, until he convinced his landlord to let him rip up the grass and plant a garden. Now produce harvested from the garden is either sold at the Wanchese Farmer’s market—that Soderholm started—or donated to local food banks.
A week ago, Leanna and I visited the garden. Packed into half an acre are rows of turmeric, chocolate peppers, dahlias, heirloom tomatoes, melons, and sweet potatoes. Squash and beans grow vertically onto terraces and fences. As we walked through the stretches of plants, Eric pointed out rare varieties of peppers and melons and explained the farming techniques he used. The walkways are often filled with snaking crops—butternut squash and black eyed peas.
At the end of the plot stands a 15-foot tall wall fence laced with bean vines with heart-shaped leaves. Get a closer look and you can see the vines cascade down
the fence, running towards the plot for another 10 yards. Within the dense patch, the plants are intertwined––each with no distinguishable start or end. Through the leaves, you can see glimpses of the partially-constructed root cellar, restaurant sized-refrigerator, and shed.
After Eric showed us the shed and root cellar project, we returned to the field and picked green, orange, and red heirloom tomatoes, purple peppers, wrinkled shishitos, and variegated eggplants. Carrying cardboard boxes on our hips––or, in my case, on my head––we picked and chatted then took the produce to outdoor sinks to wash. In one swoop, we dumped all our pickings into a white plastic sink filled with water. And, thanks to a lone eggplant, the sink did not drain.
The fruit and veggies floated on the surface, a collage of oddly shaped greens, purples, and reds. Then we pressed on the veggies, like a five-year-old pressing down on a big bowl of slime. In the most satisfying way, the peppers and eggplants sank into the water and re-emerged seconds after battling to the surface. We repeated this several times. Then we sorted into cardboard boxes and handed them off to Eric.
Eventually the wind picked up and rain followed. Dirt-covered and mosquito-bitten, Leanna and I returned home with a basket of fresh produce and a sense of awe. At 16 feet above sea level, my coworker had managed to transform a regular lawn into a bountiful farm. And despite living hundreds of miles away from the mini Carolina edible campus garden beds and our parents’ backyards, we’d found a little spot to lend a hand.