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Sacred Kolors: The Rise of Natural Indigo in West Baltimore

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Bryan Wright, Diretor of Operations, on the site of the farm in Upton neighborhood. Seventy fruit trees were planted this spring to provide shade for the indigo through the assistance of the Baltimore Orchard Project

Today on a bright autumn day, in the heart of West Baltimore, Bryan Ibrafall Wright gives me a tour down rows of indigo plants, on a spongy path of wood chips. The plants are little shrubs, all green leaves about the size of a finger. Soon, they’ll be harvesting the branches and processing powder to produce indigo dye, the deep blue magical color that has captivated artisans for centuries. Jars of the precious powder are now available online at Sacred Kolors.

Read more at https://sacredkolors.com/

 “We’ve been working to get this place cleaned up for a year,” notes Bryan, the operating director of the Sacred Kolors project. Once a vacant lot of destroyed buildings that harbored drug deals, the one-acre farm now is a triumph of sweat, weeding, and a mix of funding, which has come from many community resources, including Baltimore Orchard Project, the Maryland Department of Housing and Development and a $300,00 grant from Truist bank. In June 2022, the Maryland Institute of College for the Arts hosted the ground-breaking, a collaboration of the art school, the Natural Dye Initiative and the Upton Planning Commission.

Upton in revival

Upton, once home to Thurgood Marshall and singer Billie Holiday, has had more than its share of crime and boarded up houses. Indigo, which can make blue jeans blue, could be the community’s bread and butter. 

Synthetic indigo used to color jeans is toxic

Indigo carmine, a petroleum-based synthetic used to color blue jeans as well as the many denim products in American wardrobes, has been revealed to be toxic, according to numerous reports from the NIH. Researchers report exposure to synthetic indigo can cause hypertension, skin irritation and gastrointestinal disease.

Natural indigo is primed to take over from the toxic version. Levis are growing natural indigo at Stony Creek Colors in Tennessee for a new brand of plant-based jeans. Other clothing makers from Tommy Hilfiger and Patagonia are looking for potential sources of the sacred blue.

Abandoned school to become reprocessing center

Pieces are falling into place in Upton which is marketing its product online under Sacred Kolors. The Harriet Beecher Stowe Elementary School which will be renovated into a processing plant, is located right across the street from the garden at 1223 Argyle Avenue. Truist Market President Jay 3 cited the project’s potential for job training employment for the community when he gave the $300,000 donation.

The former Harriet Beecher Stowe school will be renovated to become an indigo processing plant

Sacred Kolors has already farmed out indigo seeds to five farms to add to production.

Before it all takes off in a commercial operation, Bryan wants to make sure the quality is the highest  Next year they will fill this acre with indigo, and expand the vegetable garden to an adjoining lot.

There is the joy of watching plants grow and flower and eating fresh from the garden. But Bryan, who has been a leader in urban agriculture, stressed that they are working hard on setting up the indigo plants for business, aiming to provide income and jobs for the community

The farm is an oasis

Besides providing fresh vegetables and a center for the fledgling indigo business, the farm is an oasis of calm for the community. Curly kale flourishes in one row, followed by butterfly peas climbing up strings on stakes in the next. Bryan points out the flowers of the butterfly peas are a brighter blue than indigo. The lush beautiful colored peas will be sold to teamakers who seek it for its unique quality of coloring tea blue.

“All the elders reroute their walks through here now,” says Bryan.  “Police officers come up here during lunch.. . . This is a green space, a place for calm” in the neighborhood.

While he can’t now claim the organic label, the farm is using regenerative methods for the past two years. A proponent of no-till, they use regenerative methods to add nutrition to the soil. They plant cover crops and lay down layers of mulch that are enriching the soil.

No til, regenerative

For Bryan, growing up in Milan (pronounced with the accent on Mi) Tennessee, this is nothing new.  Milan was the international capital of no-til, if only because the small farmers did not have the money or the land to invest in the big machinery of industrial agriculture.

“We had a no-till festival in the 1980’s,” Bryan says.  “No till was recognized then “to feed the soil, stop the weeds” in the fields of soy, corn and cotton.

With that background, Bryan has made his way to west Baltimore, to take on this burgeoning business, that requires as much gardening skills as knowledge of entrepreneurship and sociology.

In his office, a white mobile unit at the end of the garden, Bryan reaches in a cardboard box to display a jar of the indigo powder that will be offered for sale.  It awaits labels bearing the name Sacred Kolors, before going out in the online market via Amazon and Etsy.  An 8 ounce jar of dried crush leaf indigo goes for $20.  Now it’s in demand by artisans who value it for the rich color it brings to hand-made fabric such as silk and wool. Tattoo artists and hair salons also seek the rich blue color.

“We are trying to position ourselves in the market.  Right now we have massive interest,” Bryan says.

Walking to the Wild Rabbit from Daylesford

Daylesford: organic to the max

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Lady Carole Bamford has created an organic empire from Daylesford, her farm in the Cotswolds. I’d heard about it from my cousin Paula, who grew even more enthusiastic about going organic for her farm (next to ours in Virginia), after a visit to Daylesford. So eager for some inspiration, I headed to Daylesford on the second day of my trip to the Cotswolds.

I love how Lady Bamford, wife of multibillionaire Anthony Bamford, founder of the construction firm JCB, has embraced farming as the route to a healthy, prosperous life. The socialite travels the world by helicopter and jet. She’s officially a baronness, honored by the queen for her charity work–and yet she wants to be known as a farmer, according to published reports. She turned her family farm into a thriving organic enterprise 40 years ago. Now at age 76, she operates three popular upscale cafes in London; two well-reviewed pub-restaurants; a wellness spa; winery in southern France; distillery; clothing line; home goods; charities in India–and don’t forget the actual farm.

All organic and self-sustaining.

If it’s not directly from her organic farm, Daylesford sources from certified organic farms. These tomatoes, (at about $15 for 2 pounds), come from Spain.

The real center of her enterprise is here at Daylesford which started as an organic farm shop in 2002. Forget the old images of battered, shrunken organic fruit; everything sold at Daylesford is organic, pricey, and chic, as beautifully produced as a perfect pear.

First impression: sleek and expensive

I am fascinated by her enterprise and how she has so successfully capitalized on organic farming.

My first impression is not of a farm, but a sleek glass and wood structure, lined out front with topiaries and a big parking lot full of cars from the city.

Behind the topiaries, perfect organic fruits and vegetables are displayed in bins, as in the traditional farmers market. But that’s where the homespun comparison stops and yields to Bamford’s style and business sense that’s like an English Martha Stewart.

In the Home Goods department, an elegant lady was hanging felt Easter eggs on branches artfully arranged above the $200 tablecloths . “All from the property here,” she offered., referring to the branches. The English decorate these Easter trees with eggs, she added. The eggs are hand embroidered with carrots and bunnies, sustainably, in Nepal.

In Housewares, where they sell luscious smelling products like rosemary loo (toilet) cleaner, I met a couple from London. The woman was clutching purchases that included a bag full of organic, disposable aluminum foil, eco-rubber gloves and a tin of biscuits for her mother. Despite the high prices, she is happy to shop organic because it is pesticide free and not contributing to climate change, she says. “But I have to ask, why is it good food only for the people who have the money?”

A dust tray and brush for about $40 (32 pounds). High quality and high expense is the rule at Daylesford

Her partner was a bit more skeptical. “I just came to see what all the fuss is about.” He paused. “Totally aspirational. . .What is this all about? I don’t know. They have a car park full of cars.”

I’ve noted the English are much more conscious of climate change than Americans.

Daylesford avoids packages in favor of filling recyclable or reusable containers with everything from Quinoa to herbs.

Tour of cheese, wine, everything organic

I had hoped to get a tour of the farm, but it is off limits to visitors. I also would have loved to meet “Lady B” as she is called by staff; she often comes to check on things, the manager, Risvon Fernandes, said, in front of the three restaurants featuring Daylesford produce. Fernandes tried to put it all in perspective for me: “This is a dream of Lad Bamford. She puts her stamp on everything,and it is all organic.”

We ambled through the beautifully displayed housewares to a nook with 14 different kinds of cheese made at Daylesford; the smell of moldering cheese almost knocked me out. That was next to a cubicle featuring organic wine made by hand at the Chateau Leoube, famed for its organic Rose. The winery was transformed into organic by the Bamfords.

Handmade cheeses
Squid salad from Cornwall
Wine from the French winery owned by Daylesford

Then there was the cookery school with multiple state of the art stoves and gear. The wellness spa is across the way. I checked out the airy stone and wood boutique which displays Bamford’s simple classic styles. She imports some fabric from Jaipur, a town in India where she has organized and supported Indian crafts such as indigo dying. The linen comes from various farms in England. I liked the plain white sweater but at $540, I opted to go on a walk to indulge in the good, local food at the local pub, the Wild Rabbit (also owned by Bamford).

The high-end products contrast with the dirty work of farming. Yet her philosophy about organic farming runs deep, from the roots of her surrounding 1500-acre estate to the sheets on the beds of her luxurious cottages that she rents out to tourists in search of the green countryside. Everything, her website states, is “designed to be mindful of its footprint and create an ethical, environmental and sustainable way, inspiring others to live consciously and well.”

Opposition to pesticides

According to an interview in the London Financial Times, which paid tribute to her business acumen, Bamford became an advocate for organic foods when she was a young mother outside with her baby. She noted the wilting roses in the garden. The wilted condition was traced to pesticides sprayed by nearby farms. “Better to pay the real price for food than later on in the doctor’s office,” noted Bamford, in response to the criticism of the high price of her products.

As self-sustaining as it claims to be, I found it hard to get public transportation out there from Broadway and had to hire a driver. Then I could not find a way to get to The Wild Rabbit, the Michelin recommended pub in nearby Kingham.

A Walk to the Wild Rabbit pub

With map in hand, I headed across the parking lot, down the road to a path, that was as pristine as the Cotswold Way, through beautifully kept fields. Every field in this area appears groomed by landscapers, groomed naturally, by the sheep and cows.

The kissing gate, which allows walkers in without letting out the sheep

On the 3-mile walk, I caught glimpses of the farm operations, neat and without any evidence of pesticides but I can’t really tell. The terrain was really muddy and flat, great for splashing through puddles at a relaxed pace, all by myself. Breathing in the beauty of the landscape.

At the Wild Rabbit, with carved wooden rabbits placed as accents to the rustic decor, I ate lunch–a delicious bright green leek, potato soup, dense with the earthy leek flavor, and whole grain sour dough bread, cheese and butter, (made on the farm) accompanied by a half pint of Cheltenham gold beer.

The host told me they are working to get 3-stars for their ambitious menu. I missed a chance to try the tasting menu, set for later, Wednesday through Saturday, where they showcase delectable creations reflecting the day’s produce. He described a rabbit dish, with rabbit bacon, wrapped around lobster. Also intriguing is a salad of nasturtium root and parsnip crisps or braised pigs head, swede, mead and sage. You can also rent a cottage or rooms with rustic chic and luxurious amenities around the corner from the pub.

I’m content with the soup, and the cozy atmosphere of the pub, with its airy, light feel and leather chairs set in front of a fire. I chatted with a well-heeled guest who came in to the pub to meet a friend. Lady B has bought more properties near The Fox, a former 18th century inn also owned by Bamford, in a neighboring village, she said.

“I wonder if she will keep the post office,” she mused.

Are the townspeople upset she is buying up everything? I asked.

Not really, because like many small villages struggling to survive in the depressed English economy, the town was in need of a boost, she said.

Reflections

Lady B has the exquisite taste and the deep pockets that keep the enterprises going–fueled by a growing appetite for healthy food and land, amid concern for climate change. Her farm is one of the most successful organic farms in England, according to the Financial Times. I admire how she has built this market, glamorizing farming and the move to organic in a way that brings more profits for local farmers and better pesticide-free food for anyone willing to pay. She proves how successful organic can be.

Could such a model work in the States using farms as hubs for markets?

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On my way to the Cotswolds

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At Paddington Station in London, feeling lost like Paddington Bear.

After a break for the winter doldrums, I’m relaunching Farm-finds with a trip to the Cotswolds, the heart of the beautiful English countryside. I came to London for a family wedding and figured I would take off a few days to walk a part of the Cotswold Way, a 102-mile walking trail, the main route between Bath and Chipping Camden for the last 500 years. Thousands of hikers tackle the whole trail, which has become one of the most popular in England.

I am just doing segments. My base will be Broadway which couldn’t be further from the NY Broadway. A honey-colored village without neon lights or billboards. I rode the Western Rail line from Paddington station to Moreton-in-Marsh (pronounced Morton and Marsh) for an hour and a half. The names of the villages –Bird Lip, Dursley, Chipping Camden–ring like places plucked from Harry Potter. Getting deeper into the country, I had to catch the bus from Moreton-in-Marsh to Broadway with just two minutes time. We hurtled down the road through tiny villages on roads about as wide as one mini-van.

Connections by public transportation are spotty. The bus driver couldn’t even tell me his schedule for my return trip. Cars rule here, unfortunately, but I was scared to drive on the “wrong side of the road” by myself.

The bus driver was skilled in driving down two-way roads to my destination Broadway, which fits the definition of charming and quaint. Its “fancy” shops feature Wellies and cheerful teacups. The town museum has a painting exhibit on dogs.

Broadway Tower, a “folly,” is my first destination, a 5-mile walk up and down hills. One of England’s great landscape designers, “Capability Brown,” built it in the middle of his 200 acre-estate in the 1800s.

Broadway Tower sits atop the Cotswold escarpment, looking like it was just dropped in the field from the sky.

Then I’m planning to go by bus to Chipping Camden, another charming town with history and an art galley. I’ll walk 1.5 miles to Hidcote, an arts and crafts-style garden from there.

Finally, I’ll visit the incredibly successful and commercial organic farm, Daylesford, owned by Lady Bamford and her billionaire husband. Lady Bam is very savvy and trendy, the Martha Stewart of the upscale farm scene. On the farm in Daylesford, they grow wonderful organic produce with which they create amazing dishes to sell at their chic cafes in London, at their home base in Daylesford, and at a three-star restaurant in another Cotswold village. They’ve got lots of high-quality, high-priced products, from cutting shears to country inns. Organic, making a profit. How do they do it? I want to find out.

Travelling solo. I couldn’t convince my daughter, son or friends to come along due to conflicting schedules. I travelled all around Europe as a student, but I must admit as a single, older woman, it is a little intimidating. I’m calling on my old adventurous self. I like the idea of going my own way, walking at my own speed, dipping into shops and pubs on a whim. And perhaps as a nod to luxury, I’m staying at a nice hotel, the Lygon Arms, which claims Oliver Cromwell slept here– as well as the Duke of Windsor, Richard Burton and Liz Taylor and Prince Phillip. Its origins go back to the 1300s when the inn on this spot was known as the White Hart.

But, maybe for me, the extra benefit is the location right on the Cotswold Way.


As the coach road between Bath and Chipping Camden, the Cotswold Way is dotted with pubs and inns every five miles or less. I wanted to come, partly because spring comes a little earlier here than in Maryland and I am tired of winter. Also I have been carrying around memories of a visit years ago, when a group of us came out to stay in a B&B and do some walking. We were meandering along in these rich velvety green fields when a tumultuous rain soaked us to the bone. We ran across the fields, quickly found a pub, and dried off by the fire with a pint. We were talking and laughing and having the best time.

These signposts serve as guides through the fields

It’s a comfort to know you are always within a few miles of a pub and a pint with the beauty of the Cotswolds behind you.

Wreaths for remembrance

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On the last Christmas before she died, two years ago, my sister Emma had urged me to go with her to  visit the Moore’s, where we had gotten the best trees and wreaths over the years but I made an excuse—too much to do. Betty had some good stories about our father, Emma said, besides bringing in a bumper crop of Christmas trees from the mountains. 

This season before Christmas, alone at home in Halifax, I was missing the family I’ve lost—my parents, Emma and my dear husband John. That’s occupying too much real estate in the cemetery. 

My sister Anne and I  have been placing wreaths on the graves of our dear lost ones to continue our family tradition.   I remember my grandmother making a wreath for her husband and her parents.  They are all in the graveyard behind St. John’s Church in Halifax, Virginia. The wreaths mark our remembrance, never to forget them in the rush of holiday parties and festivities.  But usually we just order them from the comfort of our homes. 

On the road to wreath country

Partly to get out of the house, and as homage to Emma, I drive out to the Moore’s –six miles through lot of red clay and pines, along the two-lane road, turning right onto a one-lane road into the deep country further through tall cedar trees, down a gravel road where over 200 Fraser Fir had been assembled, awaiting dispatch.   The family works as a team—Jerry, his son and two grandsons out in winter gear, loading and cutting the trees for delivery or for those who drive up from town.

In a covered greenhouse, where tomatoes grow in season, I met Betty Moore and her sister Melinda Lewis making wreaths  with boughs cut from the sold Christmas trees.

The wreath-making operation

Betty is immediately engaging.  She tells me how her father and the older Mr. Moore were hunting buddies.  My father used to keep hunting dogs out here, because he didn’t want my mother to know he had even more than the four or five he kept in pens at the house.  My father loved to come up to their farm to hunt for then-plentiful quail.  They raised baby quail and planted shrubs and grasses to attract the wild ones.In summer, he would buy fresh vegetables from their extensive garden, on over 150 acres.  There’s been a garden here for centuries, since the family got the property through a land grant from the King of England, Betty says. And over in a field to the left, the winter root vegetable, cabbages and kale are thriving.

“We started with vegetables and growing flowers,” she explains.”Jerry and I decided to raise a few tomato plants.  That turned into eight greenhouses.  One day Jerry says we haven’t got anything for the winter.  We got five Christmas trees up in Floyd County.”

The Fraser Fir thrives in the mountains.  It’s the preferred species, Bettty says, because it stays green for the longest time, doesn’t shed, and has tough branches for hanging the heaviest ornaments. “It doesn’t stick you up, either,” she adds.

“People call me.  I need Christ trees this big, this wide.  They never come and look at the tree.”  Tney trust the Moore’s to deliver the perfect tree and put it up.

Betty is laid back as a warm summer day, even though this is their rush hour. It’s warm in the greenhouse, the aroma of fresh pine intoxicating, the talk relaxing. Betty goes on.

On one of those first trips to Floyd County, Betty was entranced with the beautiful wreaths sold at the Christmas tree farm.  Down in the basement, she was introduced to a one-woman  wreath-making operation: one woman turned a metal frame and inserted pine boughs in a circle. Jerry ordered the round metal rings in different sizes and a pump mechanism on the floor which you step on and secure the bunch of pine boughs to the metal frame.

Floyd County wreaths

At the helm, Melinda takes a long pine branch and clamps it to start the ring.  Then she snaps in the other branches move from there.

Sometimes customers will ask for special additions.  I brought holly for the three I ordered for the graves of my family, especially for my father, who planted a grove of holly trees in our yard. The holly berries were thick as grapes on the branches.

Garland machine

To add to the wreath-making operation later, Mr. Akers, the local jeweler in town, gave the Moore’s a garland machine.  I remember Mr. Akers as a kind man who had been injured in the war.  He had a slight limp. As a jeweler he had a lot of fine motor skills and the technical ability to fix watches and tiny jewels.  I never knew he dealt in big Christmas trees, but Betty says he and his family sold  them on Spencer’s Hill during the season, on the main road between Halifax and South Boston. His machine is like a sewing machine for pine boughs. 

Betty, seated at the machine with her foot on the machine’s pedal, points out that you have two strings to be concerned about—one thread that runs through the garland and the wire that holds it together. I order a 6 foot garland for my railing. Pumping her foot as she straightens out the woven boughs, Betty completes my 6 foot garland in 15 minutes. 

When she puts it in my car, I am embarrassed by a plastic one that I had picked up at a store the previous day that looks pitiful beside the full fir branches. The live evergreens fill the car with the most wonderful fresh pine aroma, way stronger than those candles that purport to emit Fraser Fir.

Once Melinda completes the evergreen wreath, she adds a big bow, redder than a holly berry.  They can loop a perfect bow, in a minute. Betty always does 7 loops for Christmas.  Sometimes the loops are uneven.  That’s just how it comes out, she says.  Each loop she embellishes with good wishes for whomever gets the wreath, she says.

The perfect 7-loop bow

I think, 7 times 4, 28 good wishes to be laid on the graves.  And I will add more wishes.

These wreaths bring sweet memories of Christmases past. I found out perhaps as a message from Emma, who always took time out to talk to people and learn their stories, this visit is about more than a wreath. It’s about wishes and stories that warm the heart.

Best wishes to you for the holidays!

Here is the wreath I made for my door from Halifax greens and Betty’s bow:

Happy Holidays!

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Shopping self-serve for holidays–going really local in my Baltimore neighborhood

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Self-serve pottery: a great way to shop local.

The other day, distressed over the onset of Christmas commercialism, I was walking my dog Jojo through my neighborhood, when I stumbled upon a tiny shop that has brightened my whole attitude toward the holidays.

It was the tiniest shop, actually a little cupboard, about the size of a small refrigerator, set up on the sidewalk with beautifully crafted cups and vases in speckled vanilla whites and rich sea blues and grass-greens. I eyed a cup with a perfectly round rim, in vanilla white, with brown speckles, sprinkled over it like a friendly freckled face. This is White Hill self-serve pottery, without a lock, on a narrow residential street in Baltimore.

I took two cups and felt like a thief. The sign said you could pay by Venmo, credit card or cash. Without my wallet, I decided I would pay when I got back home. Then I ventured up the steps of the house and met the potter, Alison Hershberger, elbow-deep in wet clay at the potter’s wheel wedged between displays of pottery wares on the front porch of the white frame house. Alison, a fair-haired, fair woman with a broad smile, was welcoming and relaxed in tennis shoes and a simple green dress covered in a sweatshirt.

No worries, Allison said.

“It’s always been very low key, “ says Alison.  “It started out as a hobby. I never set out to have to make money. In that state, it has really boomed.” All out of her house, from making the cups, baking in a kiln on the back porch, glazing, selling from the tiny shop and mailing online orders out. She has a computer to spit out labels and a postal service ap to assess and pay for postage.

It’s the epitome of going local.

The self serve idea, rooted in an honor system and good work, is working for an increasing number of homegrown enterprises around the country, although Alison notes people of her Mennonite faith have done it for years, selling soap, fruit and other homemade products. The homespun trend, however, is enabled and magnified by technology, such as Venmo, postal service aps and Facebook.

Her initial qualms about opening her yard to customers died down as she met curious neighbors and appreciative patrons.  “The longer I lived here I felt safe. The honor system usually makes people rise to the challenge.”

One person paid $10 for a $22 cup, and four or five pieces disappeared.  But otherwise, it is scandal-free and most convenient for her customers and for her schedule of community work and parenting.

 When she first moved to Baltimore, from the rolling hills of Stuarts Draft, located about nine miles from Staunton, Virginia, this endeavor was way down the priority list. “I was already addicted to the potting, but I wasn’t sure if it was going to work.” Her five children ranged in age from 19 months to ten years old.

Her husband Darrell, who is now head of a school in Hampden, had signed them both up for classes at Blue Ridge Community College only to discover Alison was more gifted in making pots than he. He now designs glazes while she has become the artisan, throwing herself into making perfect pots, plates, bowls and pitchers of all shapes and sizes.

“To turn aside and create something that really benefited my mothering, I always get involved intensely in social situations and in the community. Pottery is a delight to turn aside to.”

In the process, Alison has perfected her designs, including a slight turned-out lip in the coffee mug for the best drinking and strongly joined handles for old-fashioned cups that are easy to grip. A commission for a café in New York City called for over 200 cups, But she prefers making her own practical wares on her own time schedule, when her children are at school.

This is my perfect cup for tea. You can see the bottom and it has a sturdy handle.

Her signature color is subtle white with brown specks, which sells the best. She may sell online, in craft shows, as well as from self-serve to neighbors, family, coffee drinkers and random customers. “A lot of dog walkers,” she adds, nodding to me, a convert to this easy transaction.

 For the next December weekends, she will be bringing her cups and bowls to Waverly Market in Baltimore. at 32nd and Barclay Street. You can also order online.