The Rio Grande Refuge is part of a land grant from the King of Spain way before the pilgrims landed in New England. It currently holds a community of two humans, a run down adobe farm house, close to one hundred overgrown apple trees, and a jungle of privet bush under towering cottonwood trees lining a peaceful whispering stretch of the Rio Grande.
It is calling for more humans to live and work to bring it forward to a sustainable farm and to build energy efficient and earth friendly facilities so we can share it with you. This little farm is eager for children’s laughter in the trees, small groups of people sitting around tables eating home-grown pumpkin soup, and teams of workers learning sustainable farming practices. We envision shady paths through the jungle leading to quiet benches on the river and little hideouts under apple trees who are likely older than we are. And the more of you who show up in awe of its beauty, the closer we get to that vision.
Meet Jeff Hood
I’m known as a poet, carpenter, soulful facilitator, and wild man. Fortunate, I’m the human the land has chosen as midwife to its rebirth.
This adventure is the culmination of a lifetime. Back in 1972, a buddy and I bought a five-acre farm in rural Maine for $12,000. Our partnership quickly melted down amidst differing visions and non-existent communication skills. Fortunately, fifty years later, our friendship has survived and I’ve kept the dream of sustainable living alive.
Over the years I’ve designed and built multiple homes using all manner of alternative technologies. I’ve sat in encounter groups learning how to listen and feel and express it with some of the visionaries of our age.
I’ve watched the sunrise from 17,000 feet on more than one big mountain and paddled a canoe 400 miles down a river to the Arctic Ocean.
I’ve been a life-long skier, more at home flying down the mountain than sitting here trying to remember passwords.
I’ve been a corporate trainer, sent a few thousand people flying off cliffs on a zip line, published a book of poetry, burned wood, grown tomatoes, and not the least, raised a couple of great kids.
Now, just over seventy winters, I’ve found a place inviting all that and more, and in return I think my soul has finally found its song under a cottonwood tree on the bank of the Rio Grande.