Creating Fantasy in the Food Forest

Update on an amazing plant!

Pigeon Pea (Cajanus cajan): A Standout Soil Builder

I’ve been deeply impressed by pigeon pea—far more than I expected. Among all the support plants I’ve tried in my system (willow, elderberry, artichoke, Mexican sunflower, and acacia), Cajanus cajan has stood out not just for its resilience, but for its powerful growth and generous ecological contributions, especially in the challenging conditions of my site: hard, compacted clay.

Could it be because I planted it from seed, while the others came from seedlings or cuttings? All I know is that, straight out of the gate, the pigeon pea charged upward with confidence. Scott Hall talks about an "Infestation stage" and that really resonates with me. So I'm going with pigeon pea, banana, and eucs as my first wave to start creating soil.

I’ve been doing a little research on pigeon pea to better understand its value. Here’s what I’ve found:

Food Potential
The seeds are high in protein and can be eaten fresh, dried, or cooked in a variety of ways. It’s currently flowering, and I’m letting it go to seed. I’ll harvest most of the seeds and assess their edibility. The young leaves are also edible when cooked traditionally used in parts of Africa, India, and the Philippines. It’s similar to moringa or amaranth as a leafy green.

Nitrogen Fixer
I know this is a pretty trendy phrase that almost feels a little watered down now. But it does have the ability to form relationships with root bacteria that capture nitrogen from the air and make it available to other plants.

Biomass
I first pruned pigeon pea during a workshop. We got low and chopped, and the regrowth was fast and fluffy. Cutting it back encourages dense, green, ready-to-drop growth.

Bright Yellow Flowers
Pigeon pea flowers attract insects—especially useful in the cooler months when fewer plants are in bloom. As a fast-growing shrub, pigeon pea also works well as a nurse plant, offering shelter to young or sensitive species through partial shade and a bit of wind buffering.

Creating Fantasy in the Food Forest

When I was a kid, my first real connection with nature was me, barefoot, running around in a cape, channeling the adventure of a hobbit. No goal. Just playing.

It’s interesting to think about that now, as an adult. These days, I’m often walking through the bush collecting seeds, observing plant patterns, trying to decode the complexity of ecosystems. But back then, I wasn’t doing anything in particular.  I was just being. No tasks, no outcomes. And maybe, in some ways, I was even more present then, than I am now.

It reminds me of what happens when I bring a friend into the garden who's never grown anything before. They’ll ask a question so off-the-wall, so unexpected, that it shifts my whole way of seeing. We’re standing in the same place, looking at the same thing, but we’re perceiving it through totally different lenses. That fresh energy, that sense of wonder is what I’ve been chasing ever since.

I guess that’s what I’m trying to bring back into my relationship with land: Wonder. Fantasy. Imagination. Not just as a system or a project, but as a living story. A place where myth and magic live.

I’ve been thinking about weaving fantasy into the landscape. That might look like: Naming different locations based on feel and sight for example my caravan i’ve called Rosie's Tavern. 
Installing little shrines or incorporating ancient trees (like planting the red cedar). Creating my own symbols, myths, or seasonal rituals that honour the plants and the cycles I’m a part of. Blending the personal with the ancestral: drawing from both Indigenous knowledge of this place and the Roman and French myths that connect to Keria and me.

Fantasy, for me, isn’t about escaping reality, it’s about deepening it. Seeing the land not just as a set of tasks or zones, but as a character. A companion. A place where the imagination is just as important as the shovel.

And maybe that’s why I called this whole project Proudfoot. A quiet tribute to the barefoot kid I used to be and still am wandering the realm, building something sacred, one step at a time.