By Nicole Batey
Special to the AFRO
If you drive by too quickly, you might just miss it. In an area slightly hidden from street view, amongst dilapidated buildings along Park Heights Avenue, there sitting atop a hill is an oasis. Oasis is defined as something serving as a refuge, relief or pleasant change from what is usual, annoying or difficult is a perfect description of the Plantation Park Heights Urban Farm run by Director Richard “Farmer Chippy” Francis and his team of young farmers.
Here you will find beds of arugula, eggplant, peppers, kale, chard cauliflower, various herbs and more growing vibrantly, better than any produce you can buy in the supermarket. Shaiah McLain, a Baltimore City school educator, who frequents the farm said that this farm produces the best vegetables. “It’s so fresh and tastes so good!”
This urban farm is situated in the midst of an area that’s also one of Baltimore City’s food deserts. Most of the convenience “markets” in this section of Park Heights advertise cigarettes, snacks, sodas and lottery but offer little to no fresh produce. But every Thursday, Ms. Pat Butler, or one of the other farm volunteers, is at the farm giving away free boxes of fresh produce. Ms. Pat, as she likes to be called, has been assisting with the farm since September 2020, after picking up a box for herself one day. What keeps her coming is seeing how people in the community, young and old, come together to listen and learn from one another. This intergenerational gathering is an intentional by-product of the farm. At a table and chair area set up by Farmer Chippy, located directly across from farm, youth and adults sit across from each other sharing stories about their lives. “I want the young people to hear the life stories of these adults, [and to hear] what they’ve been through and learn from their mistakes.”
Farmer Chippy, originally from the Caribbean with a background in engineering, moved to Baltimore as an adult and decided to make Park Heights his home. “Park Heights is a special place,” said Farmer Chippy. “There are a lot of good people here who are raising their children to do good things that will make a difference. But a lot of that’s been overshadowed by negative reports in the news about crime and the drug and opioid epidemic.”
Baltimore City Mayor Brandon Scott grew up in Park Heights, and attributes his family structure to being the difference between him and those who were lost to the streets. “…They [his parents] provided a life us that showed us that even though we were living in those conditions, we did not have to settle for that,” Mayor Scott said in a video interview on his campaign website.
Farmer Chippy is using his farm to create a safe space and provide structure to young people throughout the neighborhood and the city. One such young person, Farmer Taylor Dooley, a senior at Frederick Douglass High School said, “This is a great place to be, better peace of mind up here and a safe space for me and my friends.”
Other young farmers include: Farmer Bree Bree Morton-Lane, who has been with the farm since 2016, is a biology major at Howard University (Washington, D.C.) and serves as the farm’s manager and treasurer. Morton-Lane also trains city students in the art of farming. Farmer Takaiya Gaither, a psychology major at Old Dominion University (Norfolk, Va.), serves as their agricultural scientist; Farmer Ayodele La Veau, a psychology and theatre major, is graduating from UMBC in two weeks; and Farmer Cameron Washington, who emphatically demands that everyone should “get out and do the work! Don’t just talk about it be about it…purrrrrr!”
Together, along with Farmer Chippy and students from other area schools, they have made The Plantation Park Heights Urban Farm into an award-winning oasis, that has been recognized nationally by the American Farmers Bureau Federation, as one of the top ten AG innovative farms in the country and locally.
Just recently, Park Heights Renaissance, the non-profit organization that is shaping the future of the Park Heights community, named Plantation Park Heights Urban Farm’s Project Access as the recipient of its inaugural George E. Mitchell Park Heights Community Fellowship Grant, a grant named after a long-time Park Heights resident and advocate, who worked tirelessly for community residents.
“Mr. Mitchell was a champion for Park Heights. I cannot think of a better way to honor his legacy than to invest in the youth of the community he loved,” said Mayor Scott. “Project Access is most deserving of this award and I look forward to the greatness that will come from this monumental investment.”
The $25,000 grant will support the farm’s agricultural curriculum in elementary schools. Focused on Baltimore City students in five public elementary schools in Park Heights – Arlington Elementary, Creative City, Pimlico Elementary, Park Heights Academy and Cross Country Elementary– Project Access will provide experiential teaching to young students on how to grow, harvest and package nutrient-dense foods that will then be available to families in the Park Heights community.
Last fall, during Preakness 145, 1/ST RACING and the Maryland Jockey Club honored the legacy of George E. Mitchell with the renaming and introduction of The George E. Mitchell Black-Eyed Susan Stakes (GII). As part of its continued commitment to recognize Mr. Mitchell’s contributions each year during the Preakness weekend celebration, and as part of 1/ST RACING and the Maryland Jockey Club’s partnership with the Park Heights Renaissance, the recipient of the George E. Mitchell Fellowship Grant will be recognized before the running of The George E. Mitchell Black-Eyed Susan Stakes (GII) on Friday, May 14, 2021.
At a time when it’s hard to keep a young person’s attention, Farmer Chippy says, “The key to keeping our young students energized and engaged is through sustainable programs like ours that set the foundation for learning, for community engagement and long-term success.”
Yolanda Jiggett, executive director of Park Heights Renaissance agrees. Yolanda, who was born and raised in Baltimore in the Park Heights area, is no stranger to farming and gardening herself. She brings her knowledge and experience in community development around Baltimore City and in state government, back to her beloved Park Heights community to help revitalize the area.
Although efforts to bring more of the community together last year were impacted by the pandemic, Yolanda is hoping that this summer, Park Heights Renaissance and Farmer Chippy’s Project Access will help bring the community together.
“At Park Heights Renaissance, we want to implement a holistic, community development strategy. We’re not interested in gentrifying Park Heights, we just want the same amount of attention and energy given to long-time residents, as other affluent neighborhoods in Baltimore City. This is not about any one organization or section of Park Heights. We all need to come together to do the work and bring more equity and capital into all of Park Heights.”
Lately, Park Heights has been garnering attention, bringing in more partners who are really interested in developing Park Heights, and seeking minority contractors to do the work. City councilperson Sharon Middleton Green has been very supportive and instrumental in a lot of the good work being done in Park Heights. “She is super!”, says Farmer Chippy.
“There’s so much negative data out there about our children and our community, but this farm is about changing the narrative with positive outcomes. The Plantation Park Heights Urban Farm is not just about cultivating herbs and vegetables, it’s about positively cultivating the minds of our children. We’re training our children now so when then graduate from high school, they will have a full list of opportunities that they can choose from and decide whether they want to go to college, start their own business, or seek out other training opportunities.”
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With a blow from the top-maul Ahab knocked off the steel head of the lance, and then handing to the mate the long iron rod remaining, bade him hold it upright, without its touching the deck. Then, with the maul, after repeatedly smiting the upper end of this iron rod, he placed the blunted needle endwise on the top of it, and less strongly hammered that, several times, the mate still holding the rod as before. Then going through some small strange motions with it—whether indispensable to the magnetizing of the steel, or merely intended to augment the awe of the crew, is uncertain—he called for linen thread; and moving to the binnacle, slipped out the two reversed needles there, and horizontally suspended the sail-needle by its middle, over one of the compass-cards.
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At first, the steel went round and round, quivering and vibrating at either end; but at last it settled to its place, when Ahab, who had been intently watching for this result, stepped frankly back from the binnacle, and pointing his stretched arm towards it, exclaimed,—”Look ye, for yourselves, if Ahab be not lord of the level loadstone! The sun is East, and that compass swears it!”
One after another they peered in, for nothing but their own eyes could persuade such ignorance as theirs, and one after another they slunk away. In his fiery eyes of scorn and triumph, you then saw Ahab in all his fatal pride.
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While now the fated Pequod had been so long afloat this voyage, the log and line had but very seldom been in use. Owing to a confident reliance upon other means of determining the vessel’s place, some merchantmen, and many whalemen, especially when cruising, wholly neglect to heave the log; though at the same time, and frequently more for form’s sake than anything else, regularly putting down upon the customary slate the course steered by the ship, as well as the presumed average rate of progression every hour. It had been thus with the Pequod. The wooden reel and angular log attached hung, long untouched, just beneath the railing of the after bulwarks.
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Rains and spray had damped it; sun and wind had warped it; all the elements had combined to rot a thing that hung so idly. But heedless of all this, his mood seized Ahab, as he happened to glance upon the reel, not many hours after the magnet scene, and he remembered how his quadrant was no more, and recalled his frantic oath about the level log and line. The ship was sailing plungingly; astern the billows rolled in riots. Forward, there! Heave the log!” Two seamen came. The golden-hued Tahitian and the grizzly Manxman. “Take the reel, one of ye, I’ll heave.”
My wife was curiously silent throughout the drive, and seemed oppressed with forebodings of evil. I talked to her reassuringly, pointing out that the Martians were tied to the Pit by sheer heaviness, and at the utmost could but crawl a little out of it; but she answered only in monosyllables. Had it not been for my promise to the innkeeper, she would, I think, have urged me to stay in Leatherhead that night. Would that I had! Her face, I remember, was very white as we parted.
For my own part, I had been feverishly excited all day. Something very like the war fever that occasionally runs through a civilised community had got into my blood, and in my heart I was not so very sorry that I had to return to Maybury that night. I was even afraid that that last fusillade I had heard might mean the extermination of our invaders from Mars. I can best express my state of mind by saying that I wanted to be in at the death.
It was nearly eleven when I started to return. The night was unexpectedly dark; to me, walking out of the lighted passage of my cousins’ house, it seemed indeed black, and it was as hot and close as the day. Overhead the clouds were driving fast, albeit not a breath stirred the shrubs about us. My cousins’ man lit both lamps. Happily, I knew the road intimately. My wife stood in the light of the doorway, and watched me until I jumped up into the dog cart. Then abruptly she turned and went in, leaving my cousins side by side wishing me good hap.
I was a little depressed at first with the contagion of my wife’s fears, but very soon my thoughts reverted to the Martians. At that time I was absolutely in the dark as to the course of the evening’s fighting. I did not know even the circumstances that had precipitated the conflict. As I came through Ockham (for that was the way I returned, and not through Send and Old Woking) I saw along the western horizon a blood-red glow, which as I drew nearer, crept slowly up the sky. The driving clouds of the gathering thunderstorm mingled there with masses of black and red smoke.
Ripley Street was deserted, and except for a lighted window or so the village showed not a sign of life; but I narrowly escaped an accident at the corner of the road to Pyrford, where a knot of people stood with their backs to me. They said nothing to me as I passed. I do not know what they knew of the things happening beyond the hill, nor do I know if the silent houses I passed on my way were sleeping securely, or deserted and empty, or harassed and watching against the terror of the night.
From Ripley until I came through Pyrford I was in the valley of the Wey, and the red glare was hidden from me. As I ascended the little hill beyond Pyrford Church the glare came into view again, and the trees about me shivered with the first intimation of the storm that was upon me. Then I heard midnight pealing out from Pyrford Church behind me, and then came the silhouette of Maybury Hill, with its tree-tops and roofs black and sharp against the red.
Even as I beheld this a lurid green glare lit the road about me and showed the distant woods towards Addlestone. I felt a tug at the reins. I saw that the driving clouds had been pierced as it were by a thread of green fire, suddenly lighting their confusion and falling into the field to my left. It was the third falling star!
Close on its apparition, and blindingly violet by contrast, danced out the first lightning of the gathering storm, and the thunder burst like a rocket overhead. The horse took the bit between his teeth and bolted.
