Urban Farming in Erie: Grow Your Own Way

Wild Field Farm

Wild Field Urban Farm on East Seventh Street is a fecund oasis of flowers and vegetables in the city. Proprietor Stephanie Ciner feels that humans and plants have a symbiotic relationship, relying on each other to thrive.

There is a gnarly sweet potato sitting half submerged in water inside a flower vase on my desk. Last week I was let in on a secret while scrolling through social media. I encountered a video where I learned that with almost no money I could transform one sweet potato into dozens. I checked my pantry and there, destined for the trash heap, sat a single, sad sweet potato. I gathered my supplies: a vase and some toothpicks, and submerged two-thirds of the potato into the water. I set it on the sunny side of my desk and waited — a potato baron in the making.

As the video foretold, tendrils sprouted — but now I realize my error. The ground outside is still frozen, and I have no pot for transplanting. What will become of the sumptuous, brown sugar covered, marshmallow-topped casseroles, the crispy air-fried treasures dusted in paprika? I am left with a waterlogged reminder of my failure.

Why should a sweet potato be able to elicit this range of emotion? What is it about the act of trying to grow something that has caused me both hope and anxiety? This all begs a truly fundamental question; why is growing your own food so challenging, rewarding, and important?

I grew up believing grocery stores were the sole source of food. No one I knew had a garden and apart from a neighbor with a cherry tomato plant and old raspberry bush, I believed that food production was magic. Something done by farmers in some far-off place. Though I know far more now than I did as a child, I have never actually grown anything, and it seems to me I ought to better understand why we feel the urge to grow things and why people find it so important before I try it in earnest.

There are a number of books written on the subject. Entire issues of local papers (for example, the one you are reading now) are dedicated to food and drink, and debates rage over the merits of the food industry, organic food production, and our relationship to the environment. To learn more about local agriculture, I took the time to seek out a few experienced farmers doing their best to make farming work for the community.

Stephanie Ciner, owner and principal farmer at Wild Field Urban Farm offered some wise words on the importance of growing one's own food, "Humans and their plants cannot survive without each other. Growing is an act of tapping back into the people and places you came from." Ciner's urban farm is located on East Seventh Street between Reed and Ash. I generally expect to find farms scattered throughout the rural county, but here's Ciner farming right in the middle of Erie's lower east side. She is quick to mention that she is not alone in her endeavors and benefits greatly from the farming community that was in place before her.

Stephanie told me of all the great people she has connected with since she began her farm. Among them, the Sisters of St. Joseph and the Little Italy Farmers Market, sharing its virtue as an inner-city farmer's market that takes special effort to provide high quality food to low-income neighborhoods. Ciner also shared stories of seed exchanges with elderly neighbors who have lived in her community for years, and more importantly she shared an infectious passion for all things that grow in the ground, the process of growing, and how little it takes to get started. The journey of Wild Field Urban Farm is inspiring and informative.

Ciner's farm began as a cost-saving measure rather than an expensive undertaking. She wanted high quality food but found grocery stores too costly so she looked to the dirt. Looking back, she is horrified by the mistakes she made in those early days, but the lessons remain invaluable. Despite rocky soil, old seeds, and almost no knowledge, plants will grow with time and attention.

That truth exists throughout Erie's community of planters. Mike Shannon, CEO of The Bodhi Garden Initiative feels that you plant seeds wherever you go in life. Bodhi Gardens represents another type of food production and it started with a simple goal for a senior class project: to help veterans grow their own food. And the Bodhi Initiative keeps growing. A recipient of a $250,000 grant through Erie's American Rescue Plan Funds, the initiative is making strides to combat food insecurity and engage in therapy through horticulture. Shannon shared his vision for large scale food production in the middle of Downtown Erie.

Implementing an advanced aquaponic growing system and using space in the downtown EMTA building, the initiative's goal is to provide thousands of pounds of food to the Erie community year-round. While these things might bring value to Downtown Erie, it is Shannon's emphasis on the tangible human benefits to food production that speaks volumes.

The Bodhi Garden Initiative started with one aquaponic grow tower at UPMC Safe Harbor's crisis residential unit. After getting to know some of Safe Harbor's clients, Shannon reminisced about one of the people he met who thanked him for the opportunity to grow something. Here was one person experiencing untold hardship whose pain was alleviated, if only for a moment, through the act of planting and growing. Shannon shared the sentiment that watching something grow through your love and nourishment has a fundamental power to affect change in people's lives.

What started as a small project now aims to feed hundreds of people and provide therapeutic opportunities to Erie's disaffected communities. Places like Wild Field Urban Farm, The Bodhi Garden Initiative, and people like Shannon and Ciner are joined by legions of small gardeners and farmers who know the power of growing something. This community is vast but accessible. Whether you patronize a farmer's market, help your child grow a sunflower, or operate legitimate farms in the City of Erie, food production is a fundamental and worthwhile human experience.

My small foray into this world turned up a number of friendly faces eager to share, engage, and help. Ciner rightly pointed out that growing something starts with finding a person, talking to them, and sharing in their enthusiasm. Her welcome advice is well-received. As I contemplate my sweet potato, I'm no longer left puzzling over why I became so attached. A humble sweet potato is more than it seems; it is a living reminder of the power of growing and the community that it represents. The intentional act of food production expands our networks, can teach our children, and help us to grow and heal. So, as spring fast approaches, I encourage you to grow something to eat, no matter how small, because even a single potato has power.

Spencer Cadden is a full-time bureaucrat, father, and perennial student. He can be reached at spencer@caddenclassic.com