Planting Today to Fight Hunger Tomorrow

“I guess if you’ve found yourself here, you’re asking the question, ‘What exactly is Grandma’s Trees, and why should I donate?’

I could answer that question simply:  we are a nonprofit organization that grows fruit trees and donates the harvest to feed the hungry in our community. That’s why our mission statement is ‘Planting today to fight hunger tomorrow.’ That answer alone would be enough to lead some to donate, but it wouldn’t fully answer your question. To do that, I need to take you back to the beginning, to my upbringing and what led me to starting this organization.

My name is Eric Ambrose, and my wife Tonya and I are the co-founders of Grandma’s Trees. I was born in the small town of Eustis, Florida. Growing up, my house was a revolving door of family members and friends who needed a break or just a place to lay their heads for a little while and rest. I’ve never known my parents to turn their backs on anyone in need, and I figure it has a lot to do with their simple upbringings too. They both know what it’s like to go through tough times and to need a helping hand. That’s exactly why they’re never unwilling to greet somebody in need with an outstretched hand of their own.

Though my grandmothers lived a less than lavish life, I always knew them to be kind and giving as well. Sure, they had their quirks like everyone, but Grandma Ambrose never let folks come over without offering them a piece of bread and some homemade preserves. If she had more than one jar and could tell someone liked them, she’d send folks off with a jar of their own. She didn’t have much, but she gave what she had. My Grandma Dennis was much the same way. Though I never remember her making jam, she always greeted everyone with a smile and conversation and offered to make a meal so that they could eat with her.

It’s obvious to me that these two ladies left quite an impact on their children. Growing up close to two of my uncles, I observed the same giving nature in both. I learned most of what I know about farming from my Uncle Buddy, though I admit I don’t remember much. Uncle Buddy always grew way more than he and Aunt Mandy needed, and during summer, he’d show up with heaping bags of produce to share with us. I’d help him plant in spring and pick in summer. I admit to doing it just to find arrowheads in the garden, but I still learned those three rules from helping:

Rule 1 - If you don’t plant enough to lose some to the weather, whether it’s from rain, drought, or wind, you shouldn’t plant a garden.

Rule 2 - If you don’t plant enough to lose some to the wild animals, you shouldn’t plant a garden.

Rule 3 - If you don’t plant enough to share with those around you, you shouldn’t plant a garden.

Uncle Cliff planted the same way. He’d show up to work with the same heaping bags of produce and share what he had worked so diligently to grow with his colleagues.

Cliff and Buddy helped plant Grandma’s peach tree and fig tree on the family property. My uncles, with my father, helped to keep the vines under control until Grandma passed, but after Buddy passed and Cliff got sick, the vines slowly took over, and the two trees went unkempt.

After Uncle Cliff passed, my wife and I were offered a chance to buy his twenty-four acres and we took it. At the time, it was covered in pine trees and scattered hardwoods. I had never been a fan of all the pines and had ideas of expanding the pond and making the land more park-like, but I needed the pines removed if I were going to do this. I knew that whatever I did, I wanted to honor my uncle by doing something he’d approve of. I just didn’t know yet what that might be.

At the same time I had the trees removed, Aunt Mandy asked my father to take out Grandma’s two fruit trees, which by now were barely identifiable beneath the vines. She worried the root systems would eventually grow to block the septic field, and my father agreed they needed to go. I watched as he pushed the peach tree over, and whether it was my imagination or not, I felt like I could see the pain in his eyes from having to remove the two still-living mementos of our passed family members.

I approached my dad and asked him not to take down the fig tree, explaining I’d find a place for it on our newly-cleared portion of Cliff’s old property. To be honest, I was afraid I’d kill it in the move, but Dad thanked me anyhow and told me it was the right season to do it. I noticed a very small root-ball left on the peach tree as I was standing there and decided to transplant it as well, in view from the back porch, so Tonya could watch the animals as they ate from what fell. I hadn’t yet decided where to plant the fig tree.

My nephew, Tristen, and I gently pulled the vines from both trees. We planted the peach tree where I had thought, and then I decided to plant the fig tree in view of the main road onto the family property. There, if it returned, any family member would be able to see it and remember those of us who were now gone. I watched the two trees closely, watering and fertilizing them. In spring, they both returned. The peach tree bloomed first, and then later, leaves sprang forth from the fig tree. I was so excited they had survived that I got the urge to keep planting fruit-bearing trees.

Tonya took notice of my desire and encouraged me. She couldn’t wait to see all the deer coming to eat from the trees. After a few weeks, she looked around and said, ‘I don’t think the deer and the family can eat all this fruit when it comes in.’

‘Then we’ll donate it to the hungry,’ I replied.

The next day I was planting blueberry bushes in my front yard, when Tonya walked up and asked the very question I had already been mulling over as I worked.

‘What if we did this?’ she asked.

‘What if we did what, babe?’ I replied, certain she was thinking what I was but wanting to know for sure.

‘What if we planted it all just to give it away? We were blessed with this land. Let’s bless others with it too.’

I teared up knowing we had arrived at the exact same conclusion.

We began to toss around some names, but none of them seemed to sit well with either of us, especially since we wanted the name to honor our late family members. Tonya encouraged me to sleep on it, knowing a name for our venture would come to me. Next morning, I waited until I heard her stirring, and this is what I shared.

‘It was Grandma’s trees that started all this, and both my uncles cared for those trees. What if we call it Grandma’s Trees?’

She agreed, and that is where and why Grandma’s Trees was founded. It’s our desire to start with this small, twenty-four-acre orchard and to keep going until we can’t go anymore. Who knows… maybe one day we will plant twenty-four hundred acres, but to us, they’ll always be Grandma’s Trees.

That’s why we are planting today to fight hunger tomorrow, and we’ll continue doing so until there are no more tomorrows. Thank you for reading and for any support you can give.

Please share this story and our page with as many people as you can. We have a ton of planting to do.  And if you feel like this endeavor is something you'd like to help support, please consider donating below.”

Eric Ambrose, Founder, Grandma’s Trees