Building Soil: There Is No Earth Repair Without Self Repair
Building soil is slow. Disruption is inevitable. Acceptance is foundational.
In a culture obsessed with speed, soil asks something entirely different of us.
The classic phrase you’ll often hear is that it can take a hundred years to build just one inch of topsoil naturally. But the reality is more nuanced – especially in parched, Mediterranean climates like California, where long dry seasons, episodic rainfall, fire, disturbance, biology, and human impact all interact together.
Under conventional conditions, structural soil is formed primarily through the slow weathering of rock and mineral material: sand, silt, and clay. The process moves at an almost unimaginable pace.
Lichens and mosses are a reminder that regeneration rarely begins with grand gestures.
They arrive quietly and form relationships with rock, water, sunlight, fungi, and bacteria,
slowly creating the conditions for soil.
Image: Leigh Adams
And then there is biological soil, true topsoil: the dynamic web of roots, fungi, microbes, organic matter, insects, carbon, and moisture that bring soil to life.
In a summer-dry climate like California, it can take hundreds of years to form that organic top horizon. And when soils experience extreme periods of drought, much of that biology, in many cases, goes to sleep. It becomes dormant.
Then comes the first rain.
You know the one.
The one humans can smell from miles away, apparently better than a shark can smell blood in water.
The smell of petrichor.
The smell of soil coming back to life.
This is what happens naturally…without us (human involvement).
What we are curious about…is what happens when we get “involved.” When we begin interacting with soil. When we enter into relationship with the matrix of life. Building soil takes time…or at least to us humans.
“Crisis is the crucible of new relationships.”
– Dr. Merlin Sheldrake, Biologist
We tend to overlook an essential fact…that disturbance is essential to evolution. Whether it is disturbance in our own lives or disturbance within the soil, it is an essential part of every biological system. Disturbance creates the conditions for adaptation, succession, and ultimately diversification.
And if there is one thing life on this planet seems determined to do, it is diversify.
There is no evolution without involution. In other words, human, natural processes, or otherwise, contribute to evolutionary expressions by being involved…by entering into relationship.
The Arroyo Seco Hahamongna Wash is a living lesson in succession. Following disturbance, plants begin the slow work of rebuilding relationship between rock, water, carbon, microbes, wildlife, and soil. What may appear sparse or unfinished is actually a landscape in process.
Image: Studio Petrichor
The adventure of building a regeneratively-focused landscape architecture firm – one whose guiding priorities are water, soil, and carbon – often feels like building soil. A firm whose vision for a parched Southern California is not endless monocultures of green lawns, nor a concrete skin upon the land, but instead spongy, beautiful, wildlife-filled landscapes where homeowners and community members begin to see something different. Something alive. Something breathing and functioning.
The journey of Studio Petrichor’s becoming (or perhaps our own becoming, really) has been a game of patience, determination, tenacity…and a splash of audacity. To imagine we could swim against the status quo of the landscape industry and its overly built, overly controlled landscapes – well, we suppose there is a price to pay.
And that price has at times been profitability, sanity, isolation, and certainly a lot of frustration along the way.
Operating a business that follows the unpredictability, seasonality, and wildness of Nature herself is challenging and not exactly something they teach at university. We have already lived through so many resets throughout our lives – especially in the recent decade: COVID-19, economic uncertainty, relying on government assistance to help keep us going and, of course, learning as we go. Following the cues and the intelligence of Nature…while making up a business plan as we go.
Over the years, many incredible people have walked alongside us on this journey at Studio Petrichor, whether for a few months or for eight years or more. For all of them, we are truly grateful.
Leigh and I are doing our best not to think in terms of regret, but gratitude. Gratitude for all the lessons learned.
And then, of course, January 2025 arrived, and the Eaton Canyon Fire disrupted the flow of business, family life, home, and an entire community that our hearts had already been set on healing and regenerating long before the flames arrived.
And so goes the way of Nature.
Disruption. Rest. Renewal.
And then something amazing happens.
The soil wants to be alive again. The soil is ready for what is next.
There is an intelligence in the seeds of annual grasses and annual plants that either arrive or are already waiting just beneath the surface, ready to sprout and begin building soil again. We did not even have to plant them. It is almost as if they knew. Of course they did!
And though these plants are often referred to as weeds, invasives, or pioneers – words that carry frequencies of “bad” or “colonizer” – they are here for a reason. They are here to build soil…through succession. From annuals, to perennial herbaceous species, to woody shrubs, to trees, all striving toward a climax ecosystem (a completely autonomous, self-sustaining community, thriving together).
We suppose that is what many of us are hoping for as well. All of us…thriving in community.
And yet all climax ecosystems are eventually disrupted. It is the way of life. The nature of Nature.
And in this moment, right now as we write this piece, we find ourselves in yet another moment of massive disruption. All of this is why I am writing a book. I’m attempting to express and process my grief, my hope, my story and maybe even offer some of my experience along the way. Leigh will have her own way of processing through art and action.
Perhaps even offer the reminder that Earth knows how to repair.
And since We – humanity as a whole – are beginning to acknowledge our disruption to the flow of Nature, while also being beings who hurt, who feel pain, who fear the other, and who at our core simply want to feel held, connected, and part of the tribe…we are standing at the precipice of something so simple, yet so profound.
There is no Earth repair until we begin repairing ourselves.
So as we ponder what is next for each other, Studio Petrichor, and our nonprofit, Poly/Ana, all of us trying to heal and regenerate after an entire township burned to the ground, we realize there is no “post traumatic stress” right now.
We are still living inside the trauma.
And while wanting consistency, profitability, and prosperity for ourselves and the team, while also gathering what we have personally experienced prior to, during, and after the firestorm…it has been rough. We have been building a business model for years – one that still supports the practice of designing and building purposeful gardens, but also leans more deeply into education, expression, and bringing people together to reimagine what is possible.
We realize that regenerative work is not just about rebuilding landscapes. It is also about learning how to build businesses, teams, relationships, and communities that can withstand disruption without collapsing under it. And perhaps part of our own lesson has been recognizing that passion, vision, and optimism alone are not enough.
Soil also requires structure. Sand, silt, clay, carbon…boundaries…time…rest.
And most importantly…support. And support comes in many forms…community being the first that comes to mind.
Community building soil at a Hugelkultur workshop in Granada Hills.
Image: Stella Kalinina
We have been exhausted. Overwhelmed. Frustrated. And yet still stubbornly optimistic. In other words…we care…A LOT.
We have been building soil my entire life only to have it destroyed. Building foundations only to have them toppled and rebuilt again and again.
And perhaps this is the part of the story where I/We learn to accept what is. To simply look at disruption for what it is: disruption.
We cannot stop disruption. And yet we can prepare for its impacts by taking care of business…at home…within our communities…and within our own bodies.
Nature is flow. Constantly changing. Always moving. And as much as humanity has attempted to interrupt that flow, Nature will always return to it – even if it means disrupting our lifestyles.
So what if returning to flow begins by rebuilding our relationships…with the Earth, with our bodies, and with one another?
Because…
“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”
– Dr. Seuss, The Lorax
In loving care and gratitude,
Shawn Maestretti and Leigh Adams