The Soil Series: An Introduction
Before I start writing about my experiences travelling in Latin America, I wanted to give a whistle-stop tour of the path that led me to where I am now (currently un pueblo called Chalmita in Mexico). Then the stories from here can follow with más sentido, more sense.
Pardon my Spanish.
Connecting With The Soil
Whilst studying natural products at John Innes Centre in Norwich, I fell in love with the soil; the microbes that live there, the life that creates life as we know it. The “skin of the Earth”, they say.
I remember distinctly, soon after I arrived, Dave, a seasoned and delightfully friendly post-doc, asked me a question…
“What is your favourite smell?”
“Mmm, the smell of hot earth after rain”, I replied.
“Well, you’re definitely in the right place”, he smiled.
I studied in the Department of Molecular Microbiology, whose research focuses on free-living and plant-associated soil bacteria. In particular, Pseudomonas and Streptomyces, and the chemical compounds they produce, a.k.a. natural products.
One example is geosmin, one of the volatiles that makes that gorgeous deep musky smell of soil after rain, known as petrichor. There’s that hot earthy goodness, mmm.
My project involved working in the laboratory, analysing the metabolites that my bacterial cultures were creating, and testing the mechanism of action of a specific antibiotic produced by Pseudomonas fluorescens bacteria.¹
Did you know? Penicillin and many other important antibiotics are produced by microbes that live in the soil?²
Although it was interesting to work on investigating the complex chemistry of Nature’s apothecary, I often sensed a longing to explore it. I had a nagging feeling of being trapped, studying, and intellectualising, rather than doing and being.
During the COVID pandemic, I started volunteering at a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) scheme, Norwich FarmShare. There, I took off the nitrile gloves and got my hands dirty.
I met other people who thought like me. They questioned the way things are in the world and wondered about a different way to do things. The community of people and plants I met there, just filled my heart right up.
This was also around the same time I read the book “The Hidden Life of Trees” by Peter Wohlleben. I learnt about the symbiotic partnership between tree roots and mycorrhizal fungi. The network of mycelium that mediates the exchange of nutrients and chemical signals between plants.
It changed the way I saw Nature. It was almost like a fungal thread reached out, and entwined itself around my fascia, pulsing chemicals signals through me too, urging me to look and listen.
I started researching regenerative agriculture, rewilding, and Nature conservation. I learnt more about the work of Suzanne Simard and the so-called “Wood Wide Web”, and Giuliana Furci and the Fungi Foundation.
It fascinated me and exasperated me all at once, and prompted a process of questioning the path I was walking. I started to become disillusioned with academia. I noticed the gap between research and real-world applications.
What I didn’t realise at the time was that maybe I’d identified a niche I might like to inhabit? Building the bridge, communicating with the public, and translating the science into action.
I felt pretty disconnected and wilted, like a flower. So I decided to make a change. I wrote up my research and graduated with an MPhil instead of the PhD I was aiming for. Then, I left to explore South America, without a clue, to be honest, what I was doing. Just following a curiosity, y ganas de practicar mi Español!
South America 2022
Thankfully, South America welcomed me. The laidback culture helped me chill out, after spending a long time striving to achieve academically, to quench a feeling of insecurity that was never quenched. Especially carrying the weight of academic pressures.
Without any fixed plans, I went with the flow and let myself be carried by it, once the anxiety subsided a little. I learned about new cultures, countries and ways of life. I painted, hiked, climbed and met really good people.
Wanting to integrate myself into the culture, much of the time I took roads less travelled, hitch-hiking, and staying with locals. Whilst living in Peru, I had the chance to volunteer with Valley Camp, a Nature-education charity; helping out in a primary school teaching natural sciences and art (a.k.a making it up as I went along).
During my journey in South America, I fell in love with both people and places. And I unwound some of those ties that had been wrapped tightly around me, constricting my growth.
But, I felt a responsibility to help protect and restore Nature in some way, that I didn’t feel I was fulfilling. Often, I felt a little lost, unsure of my place, where I could apply my skills to help.
I thought about what needs to change to shift us closer towards equilibrium with Nature, from a parasitic relationship to a mutualistic one. And, it always comes back to land use and education. So I wanted to find my place somewhere in those realms.
Returning To Home Soil
Last year, when I returned from travelling, I was running low on money and didn’t have a clue what to do with myself. I was suffering from reverse culture shock and heartache.
But spring sprung and I landed myself a job as a “Soil Scientist”, within a Land Use and Sustainability group at a company in York. That sounded pretty bang on, right? I love soil, don’t I!
It involved working on a UK government-funded project called the England Ecosystem Survey (EES). It is part of the Natural Capital Ecosystem Assessment program, aiming to collect data to create a baseline for monitoring the health of terrestrial ecosystems in England.
Regarding the urgency to protect and restore the natural environment, it is important to be able to measure and monitor change in ecosystems.
The first step is to collect a baseline dataset, such as that from the EES. This can be monitored over time to help further our scientific understanding of the processes involved in ecosystem regulation and recovery, and also in the transition towards more regenerative agricultural practices.
The EES is the first time above (vegetation) and below-ground (soil) data have been recorded, country-wide in England. It aims to provide a snapshot of organisms present at hundreds of sites in different ecosystems throughout England; from moorlands to arable fields, to grasslands and wetlands. These sites will then be revisited on a 5-year rolling cycle, allowing changes to be tracked over time.
My role in the EES was mainly soil sampling fieldwork which involved traipsing around on the bleak hills of the Yorkshire Dales carrying kilos of soil and metal. And lots of peering at roots, sniffing hummus-y goodness, and inspecting soil profiles.
The soil we collected was sent for analysis of physiochemical properties and to identify which organisms are living in it as part of the soil food web.
These guys constitute a network of beings that decompose, recycle, and give life to the rest of life as we, above-ground dwelling creatures, know it.
Stay tuned for more on that later!
Although I was grateful to be outside and to gain fieldwork experience, it was hard bloody work. Soil is heavy. And sometimes I felt sad, spending so much time on the lifeless hills, churned-up agricultural fields, or compacted sheep-grazed pastures. Yet more exposure to just how decimated our ecosystems are in the UK.
Occasionally, a figure appeared on the horizon, prompting me to shift my gaze away from the worm-count, usually in the form of a farmer’s son on a quadbike, or an intrigued waterproof-clad neighbour.
I loved talking to curious farmers. I tried to answer some of their questions; no, we weren’t digging for gold or burying a dead dog, I confirmed. Instead, I shared some soil enthusiasm. But, my favourite part was listening to their tales of life on the land and its challenges, and wondering how things might improve.
Through farmer interviews and literature reviews, I learnt more about the Environmental Land Management Schemes, or ELMs, as they call them. They are funded by the UK Government, and are helping farmers shift towards more environmentally friendly farming practices.
I was bolstered by the awareness and recognition of the changes that need to be made to our agricultural system and to see that there is finally starting to be more emphasis on investigating and regenerating our soils.
But, I still had many unanswered questions. And I realised that I wanted to look elsewhere for answers.
Exploratory Growth
During my time back home I was living in the flat lands of North Yorkshire (with a considerable lack of trees, ahhh), and feeling ensnared in the 9–5. I didn’t feel ready to find my place there yet, to root.
My heart missed the Latino culture and way of life, and I felt like there was so much more I still wanted to explore. I wanted to volunteer with projects that are living simply, and sustainably, caring for the soil rather than stomping around smashing metal into it. Also, to learn more about floral and fungal biodiversity and how to protect it. But most importantly, practice sharing environmental consciousness with others.
So, I decided to return to Latin America with a clearer vision, and put my energy into embodying it. Sending intentions out there to the world and hope that el camino apparece, with time, trust and patience.
I don’t know quite where my place is yet but I’m pretty sure it’s got something to do with Nature and the soil.
Hence, The Soil Series. A place to share stories of exploratory growth, extending a root network, making mycelial connections and investing energy into building a strong foundation from which healthy, happy plants can grow.
In terms of what we have to discover about the soil and ourselves, we’re standing at the bottom of a metaphorical mountain to climb. Or maybe the opposite, above a huge hole that has to be dug.
In the words of Leonardo Da Vinci…
“We know more about the movement of celestial bodies than about the soil underfoot.”
And here we are, in 2024, slowly making a start, one spade at a time.
[1] Batey S, Davie M, Hems E, et al., The catechol moiety of obafluorin is essential for antibacterial activity, RSC Chem. Biol., 2023, 4, 926–941 https://pubs.rsc.org/en/content/articlelanding/2023/cb/d3cb00127j
[2] Clardy J, Fischbach MA, Currie CR. The natural history of antibiotics. Curr Biol. 2009, 19(11) https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2731226/#:~:text=From%201945%E2%80%931955%20the%20development,antibiotic%20age%20(Figure%201).
