# This is Soil Friends, I will not promise you a bushel of apples. I will not promise you two hundred tomatoes. I will not promise you certainty. What I will promise you is soil. Because anything you want to grow, whether it is courage or friendship, hope or change, will need soil. And that is what this house is. That is what this community center is. It is soil. Here, activists can come for a few days, a few weeks, even a few months. Here, people can wake up and share breakfast together. Here, there are potlucks in the park, birthday parties and holiday gatherings, art exhibits and dress-up parties, small events that stitch together something larger. This is soil where movements can take root. For animals, yes, for farmed animals who need our voices. But also for everything else we carry in our hearts, because animal activists care about the whole world. Here, bonds are formed that outlast campaigns. Here, burnout is met with friendship. Here, loneliness is met with laughter. Soil is humble. It’s easy to overlook. But it does not take much to keep it alive. Farmers know about cover crops, the small low-maintenance plants that restore nutrients when nothing else is growing. That is what your support is. A cover crop. A way to keep this soil fertile until the next harvest. Right now, what this soil needs is simple. Funding. Ten dollars a month. That’s all. If a hundred people commit to that, this center will thrive. And if you can’t give, that’s okay. Because part of community is abundance freely shared. At our potlucks, if someone comes empty-handed, we make them a plate anyway. If someone walking by is hungry, we share with them. That is what soil does. It nourishes, quietly, without condition. So I ask you, today, cherish the soil. Contribute if you can. At the very least, give thanks for the soil that has held you, and dream of what might yet grow. This is soil. And together, we will see what takes root. Thank you.