There is a nearly hypnotic quality to the way the wind blows through long grass. Out in the newly established orchard at CCA, that quality is best enjoyed from the very middle of the space. Standing in one of the mown paths or little circular classrooms, it’s easy to get lost in the breeze’s infinite variations as it splits and swirls among the amber-brown seedheads of the grass, or bows the yellow flowers of Black-Eyed Susans. If you stay still long enough, you might catch a closer of American Goldfinches flying past with their little pulsing bursts of wing-flaps, or watch as a Blue Skimmer dragonfly snatches a fly from the air mid-flight.

At such moments it can be difficult to believe that, only a year ago, the orchard was just another inert slab of chemically treated grass on our campus. It was a place with which our landscaping company interacted more often than our students, mowing it methodically every couple of weeks in the warmer months, then leaving it to be noticed or not noticed, admired or ignored, by the rest of the community. Now, the fledgling trees and wildflowers are gathering size and strength after a summer of healthy rain, and next spring’s ocean of tulips and daffodils wait under the soil for their eruption in April and May.

Even harder to believe is that the orchard is almost entirely the product of student labor. The Class of 2023, now scattered across the country and the globe going about their collegiate business, has left an indelible mark on the campus by virtue of the long hours they spent cultivating the space. There have been serious setbacks to that work—including a shocking raid by white-tailed deer that left our hedge trees destroyed and the fruit trees injured—but all of our fruit trees are now thriving, working their roots deeper, preparing for a good winter’s sleep and a burst of growth next spring. As charming as the little plants are even now, mostly measuring no higher than a Grammar Schooler, it is a delight to imagine what they will be when the class of 2030 or 2035 walks out into the fields after Commencement: noble rows of mature, reaching, flowering plants that are tall and ready to endure the world, an analog for the students themselves.

Yet the orchard is not the only space into which the Classical Roots Program has been pouring effort this summer: the vegetable garden has been surrounded by a cedar split-rail fence that will both protect the space and add aesthetic value. To walk there now is to feel like you are truly in a space rather than merely on one, an effect that’s redoubled when you lift the prickly leaves of the now riotously sprawling quash plants to find a dozen or so fat butternut squashes maturing in the September sun, gathering sweetness with which to grace our tables when the weather gets a little cooler.

Beyond the physical work, there have been logistical investments, too: Our summer intern conducted a biodiversity audit that has cataloged dozens of species of plants, insects, and other animals that now live on our campus, squaring the native against the nonnative and laying the foundation for intentional planting and stewardship for years to come. And our families have walked, discussed, and enjoyed the gardens more this year than ever: a foretaste of the joy we will all one day be able to take in a campus that has been utterly transformed.

This year, we will continue to invest in the spaces we have already made, dumping more flowers into the orchard, tending to the trees, and squeezing every ounce of productivity we can out of the increasingly fruitful veg garden. And there is more in the offing that we’re not yet ready to announce, but which stands to transform our campus more than anything we’ve yet attempted. The future is looking strong for the Classical Roots Program. We invite you to follow it as it grows this year, by reading this blog but also by coming to enjoy it yourselves. Here’s to a happy harvest!