Lavender: calming at Star Bright Farm

Farmer Peter Elmore in lavender fields, Star Bright Farm, White Hall, Maryland

On picturesque property in north Baltimore County, farmer/entrepreneur Peter Elmore has found his calling–in lavender. At Star Bright Farm, Elmore grows, distills, packages, and sells this crop with almost as many variations as a tomato. Here you can drink it (in lemonade), spray it (in hyrdrosols), eat it (in cookies and cakes), put it in potpourri or bouquets, walk through lavender rows and destress, and best of all, snip and smell its astringent, sweet perfume.

With a degree in ecological agriculture and certification in permaculture from University of Vermont, the 31-year-old farmer is using the best regenerative techniques on the land to grow this stunning plant.   (To really get a sense of the farm, see the video with audio by Peter’s brother Patrick by clicking here. Scroll down and click on the arrow. )

Blueberries and Lavender

When his parents bought the 130-acre farm across from his uncle and aunt’s farm in White Hall, they came up with a complementary plan. His mother, Photographer Helen Norman, was entranced with the lavender fields in France.  Peter wanted to grow blueberries.  So the blueberries and purple lavender have merged in a riot of aromas and taste. And they have added some 23 varieties of flowers and herbs—all organic. It’s distinctive because everything is done on site, from seed to packaging lavender skin and health products.

Elmore is the epitome of a new breed of farmer–young, creative, super-conscientious about the environment and food and how his farming can positively affect climate change.

Bees are loving this crop

He describes himself as a small farmer who will be able to take a greater share in profits than small farmers of the past, as consumers, concerned about health and taste, demand more quality and no pesticides—and they are willing to pay the price.  “We don’t need huge access to land and capital. Large scale farming is designed around planting and spraying. I’d rather focus on diversity of what we are growing and find the technology to go with it.”

(Read more on this website about regenerative farming by clicking here .)

Most everything is done by hand. That’s a lot when you consider each row of lavender requires about 12 hours of pruning and cutting for 26 rows.  Elmore spends more time per plant, which produces more value, and in the long run, will be more profitable, he says. After a while, he says, you get the knack of snipping. He hires some harvesters in season.

The red barn offers space for music, picnics and crafts

As the mission statement for Bright Star says, our goal is to “foster a durable ecosystem that generates human wellbeing and regenerates environmental health.”

On a recent busy day, Elmore strode to the barn, under a magnificent roof redone by Amish builders to show off the copper still, used to distill lavender and other herbs for the products Bright Star is selling online and in the Barn Shop downstairs. A model of the modern enterprising farmer, he’s energetic, in red crocs and a North Face cap—and a serious practitioner of regenerative agriculture.(Read more about regenerative farming here.)  ”The idea is to plant flowers and perennials around and establish perennial cropping—landscape diversity,” Elmore says.

Elmore distils bunches of lavender, roses or blends of other herbs to make hydrosols, in this vessel

The herbs have become the jumping off point for a business in herbal skin care and healing sprays and ointments. Elmore and an assistant distill bunches of dried herbs in a 20-liter copper still that looks like a big cappuccino machine.

The herbs, roses or a blend are in effect distilled in water in clear glass with spray tops.  They make hydrosols which contain the essence of chamomile, lemon balm, thyme, peppermint and of course, lavender –all organic to the end.

Learning from One Straw

Elmore learned to admire the taste and healthy aspects of organic vegetables from his uncle and aunt, Joan and Drew Norman, the owners of One Straw Farm, (featured here in an earlier post on Farm-Finds) which adjoins Star Bright. The Normans got into organic farming when most people associated it with hippies growing marijuna. Today chefs and savvy consumers look to One Straw for the most desirable fresh vegetables in restaurants, CSAs and local farmers’ markets.

“A bunch of us kids would ride in the back of the truck. Then I started doing more work around the farm. I learned to drive tractors,” recalls Elmore. The experience fed his passion for organic food and to the study of food systems, permaculture and ecology. After college, he moved to Oregon and worked for a local food aggregator, which acted as a liaison to set up farmers to sell their produce to restaurants and markets.

It takes a lot more work to maintain the organic approach than in an non-organic farm. For now, Elmore is the primary worker, along with one full time helper. To gain the organic certification , he must plow through a lot of red tape and prove first that no chemicals have been used on the property for the last three years. For the products he sells, he fills out a daily sheet documenting the process of production and verifying that no pesticides have been added.

To avoid pesticides, he plants dense cover crops, such as white clover, that will enrich the soil. He covers the roots of all the plants with plastic to keep out weeds.  And he uses on-farm composting as well as organic fertilizers.

Keeping down the weeds with plastic

High end marketing

Star Bright offers an array of products–all organic, made by hand– in a store in the basement of the barn. On the website, the featured hydrosols and lavendar products look like a spread in a home and garden magazine. No surprise because Helen Norman is a lifestyle and garden photographer with credits in national magazines, and her husband Mark has a background in marketing. They sell fine tools, such as the $90 Japanese pruners, arranged artfully on a rustic farm table, French country baskets, a $22 leather fly swatter, as wells as creams and organic “buzz-off” bug spray. The high-end marketing buoys the difficult farm days when drought or bugs can affect the harvest.

Most sales are online or in farmers’markets.

In the future, Elmore would like to add more fruit trees and more acres  to develop a self-sufficient, diverse farmstead.  “I’d like to supply people with fruit, my uncle’s farm grows vegetables; we have skincare, herbal medicine, and we can get into produce,” he says.

The lavender continues to be a big draw: for brides and models who want their pictures taken in the scenic setting, for people seeking solace, for crafters making lavender wreaths and a plethora of events from country rock performances to an open house for dogs.

Lavender for dogs

Lavender allegedly has a calming influence.  I had a chance recently to test its effects on my super-active dog Jojo, an Australian cattle dog with energy to burn. I asked my friend Connie with her rescue dog, Kona, who had been a good companion when we walked in the park, to come with me to Star Bright Farm for a benefit for BARCs, Baltimore’s largest pet adoption agency.

Star Bright opened up its lavender fields to the dogs for the event. 

Driving out the 36 miles from Baltimore through the beautiful north Baltimore County countryside, the dogs were not getting along.  Jojo, safely contained in her crate, was snarling and barking at Kona, who was curled up under the back seat with anxiety.

Maybe the dogs were relieved by simply getting out of the car, but by the time we led them out to roam (on the leash) down the curved rows filled with thick cushions of lavender, they were in dog heaven.

Connie (left) and me (right) with happy dogs Kona and Jojo in foreground.

Jojo and Kona were nearly drunk on the smell and the fields were alive with the happy sniffs and arfs of over twenty assorted dogs. Kona just lay down and chilled.

Kona relaxing in lavender

I am taking a break to celebrate the end of a year with Jojo, with thanks to my friend Cynthia and others along the way who have been understanding when she has runaway or eaten their shoes. It was not clear when I first picked up Jojo last year that she would be the domesticated sort. She is definitely a country dog who can run circles around me and others in her path.

Cynthia , Jojo and me celebrating birthdays March 20

Jojo, originally named Joyce, was skittish, afraid of her own shadow and me, at every step.  

I enlisted Cynthia to help me pick her up at the designated place somewhere in suburban Maryland, where the Canine Humane Network had arranged for people to claim.

Howling in trauma, these 30 homeless dogs had arrived from Texas via transfer truck that night.  

During Covid, after the death from cancer of my sweet gentle Hali, I had been scouring BARCs, Petfinder, SPCAs from Baltimore to southern Virginia, everywhere, for a dog to keep me company. Hali was a faithful, low maintenance English shepherd of unknown origins and stayed in my room, discreetly by the doorway.  Everyone was applying for dogs then.  It was only after appealing with my sob story about losing Hali, that somehow, someone on the application’s other end, saw that I could be a responsible dog-owner. 

I had borrowed a crate from a friend but didn’t even know how to open and lock it.  Cynthia knew. She was once a pet columnist for a magazine. And I anointed her  as Jojo’s godmother.

Jojo was waiting inside a house taken over by the dog rescuers.  She was stunning. She had a classic bird dog confirmation with unusual black and white markings, smeared as if someone had sprinkled them over her and then rubbed the spots in. She had a wild look in her brown eyes, the color of a woodland stream.

I brought along some treats to offer her to make friends.  But she was scared and dodged them.  Friendship seemed a long way off.  Cynthia, who is now an acupuncturist,then stepped in with the magic touch.  She must have found my dog/s pressure points; pretty soon  Joyce was nuzzling her hand.  Cynthia handed over the leash to me.  I held it firm and reached out to pet Joyce, but she cowered, as if I were going to hit her.  I started to  walk, all she wanted to do was lunge in the opposite direction.

Meeting Jojo for the first time with volunteer from Canine Humane Network in Highland, MD

I had brought my old expandable leash, but the good rescuers promptly dismissed it in favor of a leash that they had on hand, along with a goody bag full of coupons, food and birth papers.

After I attached the lead, Joyce scampered out in the direction of a shopping center.  I held firm and called out to her but she did not know her name or me. That was when I knew I could change her name–to Jojo.  She just wanted to get away, some place she once called home. Instead of Get Back, as the Beatles sang, I implored, Get Back Here to Where You Belong.

“Hold her tight!” yelled one of the dog savers.  “She is very scared.”

I thought, wait til she gets to my house, a little two-story rowhouse in urban Baltimore. 

I worried whether she would ever adapt.  

And I wondered, where did this terrified dog come from and what had happened to her to make her fear even my hand?

Well, the long story is she came from Australia, an Australian cattle dog.  When the English settlers came to Australia they brought along their sheep dogs, which did not get along in the wide open spaces of the new adopted country.  So they developed a cross between the dingo, and the sheep dog, to come up with both the Australian shepherd, that fuzzy,  friendly looking dog and her cousin, the  sleek, fast Australian cattle dog-herder.  I can see Jojo’s herding instinct, how she will come up and nuzzle my hand, to get me to go on a walk.  Plus she loves to run–and often runs away–as she has done on several occasions. 

On our first trip to the country, with three of my close friends, we walked along a dirt road, lined in tall blue-berried trees mixed with blackberry bushes.

Strolling with Jojo ended up with a run in the country

We were enjoying the beautiful outdoors when                                                                                             Jojo broke away in a blur of speed, faster than a horse, or even a car.  I despaired she would never come back but told my friends, let’s wait before we panic. After an hour, she came racing back to the doorstep. That was close, I thought.  At least she was safe in the woods. Suppose she did that in the city!

By last summer, after 4 months, I thought she had acclimated to my home pretty well.  We had been walking regularly, morning and night.   I had invited some friends to dinner.  After weeks of trying to find a date, they all finally committed for dinner at 5:30.  So I took Jojo on a walk at 4:30, along StonyRun, one of the most scenic walks in the city, along a stream in a band of woods full of birds and greenery.We got back in time to take the chicken out of the oven–but somehow the door was left ajar for an instant. Jojo, seeing her opportunity, charged out the door.  I dashed out after her, but she thought I was playing a game.  Down the alley, around the corner, into Keswick Road, she plunged – where I knew she would be run over.  Promptly at 5:30, she stopped traffic. My dinner guests were at the front of the stalled traffic, as a policeman–who happened to be a K-9 specialist–screeched to a halt, leaped out of his car, and tried to catch and reach out to my runaway dog. 

I was waiting in the alley with a treat and her leash..  The policeman herded Jojo towards me, where I was waiting with some of her favorite treats.  (Yes, herding can work both ways.) Not interested, she ran right past me.  I signaled to the policeman the direction to my back door, and we herded her inside.  

Meanwhile my dinner guests were marveling at the wild dog running around in the street.  They apologized for being late, and laughed when they recognized Jojo.  “That was YOUR dog!” Katie said as she handed me a bottle of wine.

Since then Jojo has gotten into other trouble.  At dog school, she failed.  She wouldn’t lie down on command.  And on graduation day when at doggie play time, she just kept running around and around and wouldn’t come when called. For 15 minutes, she had the class of obeying mutts with their owners in hostage as we tried to catch her. Elizabeth, the patient dog trainer, helped to herd her into Howl, the adjoining gourmet dog store, where we cornered her amid bongs and bitable bones.

These days,  instead of running away as much, her major habit is chewing up and eating anything she can find.   I have a whole drawer full of socks nibbled at the toe or heel.  She snarfed up three pieces of a jigsaw puzzle the family was slaving over for three days over Christmas only to discover those three critical pieces missing.  She’s dined on the edge of my best Oriental rug.

I might have given up, if not for Cynthia, who is always there with a solution.  She and her husband Mark have invited us to their home with a fenced-in yard in the wilds of Baltimore County that is perfect for Jojo to run around in.  Her two very domestic cats are fairly welcoming, given that they are natural enemies and Jojo usually goes into her house and eats up their food.  I have spent some relaxing times on Cynthia and Mark’s porch with Jojo curled up at my feet and the cats at bay in the kitchen.  Yes, Jojo has learned to curl up and relax.

Today I am celebrating her first birthday, the anniversary of her arrival into my home, and Cynthia’s birthday.  What a pleasure!  Now when I wake up, instead of sleeping in my room, she trots up the steps and wags her tail and looks at me as if to say, It’s time to get up.  She doesn’t bark except when strange people come to my door, like she snarled with bared teeth at candidate Wes Moore (now governor) who came campaigning in the neighborhood  a few months ago. That was ok, we had a nice talk through the glass door.

At Common Grounds,she waited tied up to a column while I ordered my cappuccino.  Lots of people came up and talked dogs as I sipped my coffee on the deck. Where did you get your dog? What is your dog’s name?  Easy conversation -starters.  It paved the way for a milkbone from the waitress who eyed Jojo through the window. A puppy approached with his owner,more pets and geniality.  

My daughter Emma has tapped into Jojo’s intelligence.  She has taught her her to spin, lie down, and shake hands.  Jojo will crawl into her lap like a cockapoodle, one of those real lap dogs.  But she still loves to run in the country. I will not let her loose in the city for fear she will run into a car, and not be so lucky as she was to encounter a Baltimore city policeman with a love of dogs.

But so many people do love dogs, including me.  They bring out the love in us.  

Happy birthday, Jojo and Cynthia!

(Do check out adoptions, at Canine Humane Network. More are now available much more frequently.)