Here’s the story behind Sage’s first year growing broomcorn:

”I spent hours digging up a plot of yard to plant my laughably pricy seeds, which had taken no less than two weeks to arrive at my door once I placed the order. It had just begun to rain when I finished tossing out the last stone to line the plot around my freshly mounded rows, when tiny-puppy Cedar came sprinting from the gate. She ran, butt-tucked and excited, straight at my seed packet. And before I could spring to her, she had them all in her mouth, instantaneously scattering the little, red, furry seeds throughout the yard. I hollered, “Noooooo!” into the rain like a death scene from a bad movie. I’m sure I looked ridiculous.
I know I did.

I got on my hands and knees, crawling across the ground, splitting apart the grass in search of each individual seed I could find. Mosquitos bit my back, my hair dripped rain, I laughed at myself, and I got the damn seeds planted.

The season was strange. Too wet. Nothing really happened for months. But I waited. Then, finally I had some growth and was hopeful I’d get at least one broom’s worth of plant. Fine for my first attempt in a strange growing year.

Hundreds of baseball-sized hail stones, a tornado, and catching Covid later…
Haha, fine. I get it. With the help of Ashlin, I salvaged anything I could, plucked my handful of stalks and few cucumbers, and called it a season.

So here they are. A batch of Cedar-salvaged, tornado-surviving, scraggly broomcorn slip brushes, for applying and etching slip on pottery.”