Regional Regeneration – Documenting a Paddock-to-Plate Miracle
By Norann Voll
Food always tells a story – the flavour and presentation communicate how it was grown, the seasonings and sauces indicate cultural influences, and the arrangements hint at an accomplished chef. But sometimes, the bounty on the table belies the true journey behind it.
This was the case in March of this year, when I built an 8-metre grazing table for the Landcare Event 2025 New England North West Landcare Adventure - Southern New England Landcare (snelandcare.org.au). As my catering team and I arranged each piece of meat, cheese, or fruit, the wonder of what we were collectively creating overwhelmed me.
That’s because every item on that table had been grown on our farm.
That table told a much bigger story, and a little bit of that story was mine.
Twenty-four years before, when I arrived on this property as a mother of two young sons, this kind of food was an impossibility.
At least for me. I, and the handful of other newly arrived Americans in my faith-based community knew nothing about living, let alone farming, in regional Australia.
My church-community The Bruderhof https://www.bruderhof.com - to which my husband, Chris, and I belong, purchased the land in 1999 - a much-loved soldier settler’s block named Danthonia after the nutritious grass, Danthonia linkae, that grows here. It was prime agricultural farmland, but the seemingly rich ground cover disappeared in the Millenium
Drought, and by the time our family arrived in November 2002, there were fires burning in the surrounding hills, and the paddocks were bare dirt.
Our home, captured from an airplane the week we arrived, look like this:
We were delighted when the rains began in March of 2003. They didn’t seem to stop. Our small veggie garden was swamped, but at least it was rainwater and not bore. We watched the creek flood, as torrents of rain poured off the hills and dams burst. The green returned.
But not for long.
A delightfully warm winter followed, and we went into the spring and summer season with dwindling water tanks, cracked paddocks and agisters taking their cattle and looking elsewhere. Often, in the evenings, Chris and I would check in on the stockmen and women camped at our driveway with cattle they were grazing in the “long paddock.” We bought vegetables to augment our limited supply, and, in a fit of optimism, planted an apple and orange orchard.
This cycle repeated itself for the next few years and our farm and garden team began to wonder what steps to take next. We had inherited a great land, but clearly, it was struggling and needed to heal.
We began to pay attention to other farming techniques such as regenerative agriculture, wholistic land management, and natural sequence farming to improve our overall soil health. Our land manager, Johannes Meier Beating the Big Dry: How an Australian cattle farm is fighting drought by reviving ancient landscapes by Johannes Meier (plough.com), immersed himself in a community of learning around thought leaders like Charles Massey and Dr. Christine Jones.
Our first steps, just as our third son arrived along with a new drought in 2007, involved creek rehabilitation, radical changes to paddock fencing, and water reticulation. We began strategically planting trees by the thousands
https://youtu.be/874wlhbb_Wk?si=gcK3sN66Zk0ybmr4. Besides using our beef herd to manage the grass and increase land fertility, we invested in hens to live and lay in our citrus orchard, began a small goat herd for milk production, and introduced olives
https://youtu.be/kspV612G9qQ?si=44kCP1M2ryJbEXlA, grapes, and free-range pigs.
Our land was in a new and stronger position by the time the 2017-2019 drought arrived. By then, all of our family members, including our three sons were invested in the property they were being raised on – they worked in the orchards and gardens, researched and planted native trees, and helped on the farm. We watched how the land responded, using the drier time to build more contours and dams. We held conferences on our property to share learning techniques, to learn new methods, and observe the land during a sub-optimal season.
Each drought gives us a unique gift because we learn something new about the land and ourselves. We are constantly evolving our thinking, studying results, and adjusting techniques. Working to heal the land is not just about improving hydration, but also soil biology thru diversification and multispecies forage crops for overall paddock health and resilience.
When a wet cycle began in 2020 and torrential rains refreshed the land, there was minimal run off, and the healthier paddocks and chains of ponds held the moisture in and back: https://youtu.be/iK_zYk8Ax6s?si=z5KJGlcGyVJb65e_
Our home, as of this aerial from July 2024, looks like this:
As I watched that grazing table of free-range meats, and organic vegetables and fruits be demolished, enjoyed and relished, I reflected on this journey that wasn’t always abundant or easy.
I noticed that around the table was laughter, an exchange of ideas, and questions about how each item was grown or created. Recipes were swapped, droughts and floods recalled, and love for the land declared.
I realized that the gifts of a healing land mean a new kind of sharing – a distribution of food and of knowledge, and a building of community. The land has brought us together around our shared desire to heal it – it has brought former strangers and foreigners together as friends and neighbors. It’s a generational gift that will keep on giving, as long as there are farmers growing food.