ONE YEAR AFTER HELENE.
“Mother nature is resilient, and it turns out,
so are we.”
Mary Bulan, Scratch Farm, Swannanoa, NC
Reflecting on the one year anniversary of Helene. I feel a deep sense of gratitude. The hurricane was devastating - it flooded our field with 6 feet of water and deposited up to a foot of sediment. We didn't know if the sediment was toxic, or if we would be able to farm there safely anymore. The property was a mess of debris from the wrecked homes and businesses of our neighbors.
A year later we have cleaned up a huge amount of debris, although I’m still finding buried beer cans while planting the pollinator plot. Despite the challenges, we have had an amazingly productive season of growing flowers and vegetables. We met our financial goals for the year. And we were again able to serve our customers and our community, bringing beauty and fresh food to our customers, employing neighbors, and donating some of the harvest along the way.
Mother nature is resilient, and it turns out, so are we. It’s been a hard lesson. We are still working to rehabilitate the soil, to combat new weeds that flowed in with the flood, and to replace destroyed infrastructure including the irrigation system. Our land tenure is uncertain going into the future as our landlord plans to sell the property to FEMA. But this year, we proved that this farm is still a beautiful and productive part of this community.
What has inspired you most in this past year? What are the things that have brought you joy in the midst of these hardships?
A week after the flood, driving through the wreckage of the town of Swannanoa, I reached the farm for the first time. Amidst the mind-boggling destruction I saw bees flying to a few surviving cosmos flowers. I realized I could rely on the resilience of nature to get through this. Later on, I’d come out to the farm to spread cover crop seed, and see the tracks of possums and racoons in the mud, hunting, getting by.
In spring and through the summer, I drank in the songs of blackbirds on the power lines, goldfinches on the sunflowers, monarchs on the Tithonia. Hummingbirds cruising through the flowers. It has been an incredible joy to witness the resilience of nature and the return to the rhythms and relationships that hold our world together. I’ve been inspired to see people come together and help one another. And to just check in on one another, asking, are you alright?
What learnings would you like to share with other farmers and land stewards in regards to surviving and responding to a disaster?
Plant with diversity; mixtures of annuals and perennials. Know your land, especially the flood risk, and plant resilient crops. Know how to ask for help, and how to offer it. Stay hopeful and connected with your community. Prepare for a situation where you have no power, internet, or running water for weeks. Have supplies on hand: emergency radio, solar generator, water filter, cash. Pace yourself.
“Remember to lean into community . . . which comes alive when it matters the most.”
Brandi Jones, Momma B’s Farm, Edgefield, SC
It’s been an emotional, tough road, still a long one ahead, but we’re grateful for the progress . Cleanup's still happening, we’ve shifted to a more resilient, land/farm/natural resource-steward-first approach, preserving our native and heirloom crops like muscadines, wild berries, and persimmons. They were here first and thrive on the land.
We are in operation this season. It's been an impactful, community-led journey. In coming seasons we hope to build momentum to grow community impact, more offerings focused on collective connection, healing, learning, and empowerment.
What has inspired you most in this past year? What are the things that have brought you joy in the midst of these hardships?
What’s inspired me most this past year is life’s ability to pivot and reset. The mutual aid and meaningful support led by organizations like Persimmons Collective that uplift and give voice to farmers like me.
What learnings would you like to share with other farmers and land stewards in regards to surviving and responding to a disaster?
Create a resilient and adaptive plan that honors the land that we steward, one that moves at nature’s pace to better connect as a farmer to the seasonal rhythms. Observing the paths of native species and ecosystems, I find this to be an ancient path yet gives way to powerful insight even in hard times. Remember to lean into community, built on love and planted in good soil that produces hope and strength which comes alive when it matters the most.
“As I reflect on Hurricane Helene, the land and I are still growing roots . . .”
Dr. Sarah Nuñez, Aflorar Herb Collective, Asheville, NC
Have you ever looked up and wondered where the time went? That’s how this past year has felt—wild, fast-moving, and also tender, and deeply renewing. When I look back through my camera roll, I see reminders of the abundance: handful of tomatoes, baby peppers, and watermelon grown with my partner, and a variety of flowers—golden marigolds, pink and yellow zinnias, calendula, nasturtiums, roses, pineapple sage, and soft borage.
This year I expanded the garden with four new raised beds, an outdoor sink, and completed the interior of a 12x12 studio for processing herbs. I grew, harvested, and processed dried tulsi, skullcap, and mints for Aflorar Herb Collective and for tea blends that I make and drink daily. It’s been a sweet reminder to slow down and savor the beauty around me as much as possible.
Then in August, climate change came close to home again. After days and weeks of rain, a massive 85-foot red oak fell directly onto the herb hub, tearing gutters and knocking the electric panel from the house. Thankfully no one was hurt, but it was a big disruption in the middle of harvest. At first, it felt devastating. Yet with time, I began to see what it gave back: more light for growing, more space to expand, and the gift of time to reimagine what’s next.
As I reflect on Hurricane Helene, the land and I are still growing roots—turning fallen leaves and limbs into pathways and fire, envisioning what feels both out of reach and within grasp: moments of rest, joy, and peace, and a fiery passion to keep going, fighting, and resisting.