Go on Manuring as Before
In the summer of 1924, Rudolf Steiner delivered a series of lectures that would form the foundation of biodynamic farming. Addressing an audience of primarily European yeoman farmers, Steiner emphasized that his methods were only enhancements to their existing practices. Needless to say, he stated, you will go on manuring as before. This remark carried the weight of generations of embedded knowledge — a corpus so deeply ingrained in his listeners that it scarcely needed mentioning. Even as the specter of chemical agriculture loomed on the horizon, these farmers clung to their traditional ways — the time-honored methods, rhythms, and intimate relationships with the land that had been passed down for centuries.
Growing up in suburban San Diego, my experience with producing food was limited to a few tomato plants in pots on the patio, their survival ensured by regular doses of Miracle-Gro. The depth of agricultural knowledge that Steiner assumed in his audience is nearly inconceivable to me — I know I’ll never come close to it. It’s foreign even to those raised in American farming families who measured out their childhoods in county fair ribbons and summers spent in the belly of a John Deere. It’s a wisdom that can’t be captured in bushels per acre or the rates of chemical applications, a way of knowing that industrial agriculture can’t grasp.
To reclaim this knowledge, we will have to turn to old books, trial and error, and the few left who remember.
Lucian Toma had the rare privilege of witnessing this ancestral knowledge firsthand as a child in 1980s Romania. He grew up visiting his grandparents’ farms in the mountains, pockets of tradition insulated from the control of the Soviet Union. They grew most of what they ate. His grandmother distilled brandy from the fruit of their orchards to trade for the few things they couldn’t produce themselves. They raised pigs and chickens, tended grapes and made wine, grew grains and vegetables. As a boy, Lucian cared for the rabbits and helped in the plum orchard.
While the hard work of weeding and tending the garden didn’t capture his imagination at the time, the seeds of something powerful had been planted.
A Journey West
Then the Berlin Wall fell. History, they said, had ended. Nicolae Ceaușescu met his fate at the hands of a firing squad. And into that vacuum the tendrils of Western culture began to wind. Soon the seductive glamor and wealth of America transfixed the cultural consciousness and farming began to seem backwards, a relic of a poorer past.
Lucian felt the pull of this tide. When the chance arose to attend the University of Hawaii on scholarship, he jumped at it. He wanted to help solve the big problems facing the world. He earned a degree in international relations, then a Master’s in Global Leadership and Sustainable Development, groomed to be the kind of top down World Bank expert who hands out paternal advice and GMO seeds to developing countries.
After graduation, he moved to Southern California and took a job with LA County working on energy efficiency programs. One evening, driving home from work, bumping along a California highway in suit and tie he noticed a group of people off the side of the road planting trees. On impulse he pulled over, got out, and asked if he could help. After hours of digging and planting, the pieces suddenly clicked into place. He saw that the solutions to the challenges he hoped to solve were actually very simple.
Remembering Roots
From there, Lucian’s journey became an agrarian odyssey. He found work at The Ecology Center in San Juan Capistrano — the very place where he had first stopped to plant trees. There, he taught gardening and helped others learn to grow food. He found himself drawing on the knowledge his grandparents had instilled in him as a child, gradually uncovering the language to describe practices they had performed but did not name.
He met his partner Anna Maria, an herbalist and beekeeper, and together they started a small urban farm in San Clemente. They began teaching Permaculture Design Courses, sharing the principles of ecological design with thousands of students. They had a son.
Feeling the pull to put their principles into practice on a larger scale, they entered a lease to own arrangement on a 40-acre plot in the high desert of Anza, California. They worked to transform the parched landscape there for a few years but the unforgiving climate and uncertainty of renting wore them down.
Thinking about the long term future of their family, which now included two boys, they looked to the east and in 2021 bought a 26 acre plot outside Springfield Missouri. They named their new venture Sun and Bloom Farms.
A Missouri Farm
But the land they’d chosen was far from ideal for farming, the soil a gravelly clay atop hard pan. The only fertile ground was frequently flooded pasture. The weather was unpredictable, oscillating between 25-degree nights and 80-degree days and rollicking storms that devastate young plants. There were insect pests they’d never had to worry about in Southern California.
People can invest five, six years into their berries, and then one year comes along and they can’t even go to the market because of frost or extra rain or extra bugs.
Most farmers in the area weather this unpredictability by using chemicals. But Lucian sees it as an opportunity to demonstrate that there is another way.
He spent time teaching at the university extension and working as an area educator, helping vegetable and fruit farmers improve their operations and incomes, but secretly on a mission to teach them about regenerative organic practices..
Through this he met many farmers and gained first-hand insight into the agricultural landscape of the region. There’s been a lot of deforestation here, he says. There’s been a lot of not very smart animal agriculture here. And there’s a lot of still big corn, soy, and other cereal production here that’s very dependent on GMO crops. And that comes with a lot of herbicide use. I have personal friends doing it — I’m working with one of them right now to help transition away. But it takes time, and it takes people — they call this theshow mestate, so people need to be convinced by results rather than research.
Through their example, they’ve inspired several neighboring farms to adopt organic methods. In a region dominated by commodity crops and monoculture, Sun and Bloom Farms has emerged as a beacon of regenerative agriculture.
Blending Tradition and Innovation
At Sun and Bloom Farms, Lucian blends the traditional wisdom inherited from his grandparents with modern ecological insights. He employs no-till methods to maintain soil structure and microbial life. Goats and chickens play integral roles in the farm ecosystem, enhancing soil health and managing pests. With an eye toward future harvests, Lucian has planted a diverse array of fruit and nut trees—including pawpaws, apples, pears, black walnuts, and pecans—alongside berry bushes.
I have my microscope and I’m looking at my compost and compost tea, counting how many microorganisms I’m seeing and making decisions based on that. But my grandmas composted without knowing there was even a word for it. How did they know when to turn? How did they know how to mix the ratios, carbon to nitrogen? How did they know fruit trees like it more woody?
He uses science and meticulous record-keeping to bridge the gaps in his traditional knowledge. However, he stresses that even with extensive experience, careful observation remains crucial in an era of disrupted climate patterns and increasing extremes. The time-honored practices that served our ancestors in a particular place may falter against today’s erratic weather and fragmented cultural landscape.
Economics of the Small Farm
Lucian and Anna Maria have had to get creative to make a living while stewarding the land. In addition to their veggie CSA, Anna Maria runs a monthly Apothecary CSA. While Permaculture Design Courses and workshops still provides a significant chunk of their income, they’ve shifted focus to production and direct sales in recent years. With two young children, they have less time and energy to organize large classes and host visitors. And they want to walk the talk and live out the practices they preach.
They’ve devoted around an acre to intensive vegetable production, with high tunnels protecting tender greens from the whipsaw weather. Lucian says flowers are often their most lucrative crop.
I’ll have bunches of carrots for $5 and bouquets of flowers for $12 at the market. People raise their eyebrows at the price of the carrots. Then they see the flowers and say, ‘I’ll take two!’
The dairy operation has thrived as well. Their small herd of goats produces milk that sells for $15 a gallon. They can barely meet demand and plan to triple the herd next year. Pasture-raised animals and regenerative vegetables require more labor and resources than factory farming, which Lucian’s prices reflect. He uses every opportunity to educate customers about his products’ nutrient density, its importance for health, and how his methods differ from industrial practices.
Advice for Young Farmers
For aspiring farmers struggling to find their path, Lucian offers candid advice: If you are burning to grow food, to feed your family and others, and you’re in a place where money stands in the way, let the dream of that place go. Go where you can actually afford to buy land.
He emphasizes the importance of market research before getting started, and seeking mentors and taking courses with people who are doing what you aspire to do. And securing land is just the beginning — building community relationships is crucial. Don’t hesitate to seek financial assistance, and learn to approach the right people with the right questions.
Drawing from his own experience of developing multiple micro-enterprises, from vegetable production to goat dairying to teaching, he advises focus, honing in on two or three things that you can do really well rather than trying to do everything at once.
Looking Forward
Looking to the future, Lucian isn’t content to limit his impact to his own land. He’s launched an online permaculture course called Level Up Permaculture, aiming to reach 100,000 people in the next year. It’s an ambitious goal, but one that underscores the urgency of spreading regenerative agricultural practices in a rapidly changing world.
In the end, Lucian Toma’s journey from Romanian hills to Missouri soil is more than just one man’s story. It’s a microcosm of our cultural relationship with the land, a journey of forgetting and remembering. In his work of cultivating soil and knowledge, we see a glimpse of what it might mean to reclaim the wisdom implicit in Steiner’s admonition to “go on manuring as before”, not as a retreat from the present, but as a way of moving into the future with our roots intact.