The Smell of Death, the Taste of Life

By Josh Singleton | Founder, The Neighborhood Garden Project

People ask us a lot, “What do you fertilize with?” It’s a good, honest question. And while the answer might sound simple, it’s connected to a much bigger story—about how we treat the soil, how we see life, and what kind of growth we’re really after.

For our raised beds—especially when they’re filled with fresh compost—we use two main things: MicroLife 6-2-4 and blood meal.

MicroLife is our base. It’s a slow-release organic fertilizer, packed with good stuff—not just for the plants, but for the soil too. It feeds the microbes, the roots, and everything in between. We like it because it doesn’t force growth. It supports life. It helps things grow steady and strong.

Inside MicroLife, you’ve got things like kelp meal, fish meal, soybean meal, alfalfa, molasses, rock minerals, and humates. There are also living microbes in every handful. Each one of these ingredients plays a role. The kelp adds minerals and helps the plants stretch their roots. The fish and soy bring nitrogen, but they do it slowly, so the plant doesn’t get overwhelmed. The molasses and humates feed the life in the soil. The microbes help break things down and make nutrients available.

Unlike synthetic fertilizers, MicroLife doesn’t give the soil a sugar rush. It doesn’t push plants to grow fast and weak. It works with nature, not against it. It builds up the soil over time, so it can hold its own. Season after season.

We like to say: we’re not feeding the plant. We’re feeding the soil. The soil feeds the plant.

And here’s something that still amazes me: plants don’t take more than they need. Even when the soil is full of nutrients, they only absorb what helps them grow. The rest stays right there—for the next plant, the next season. No greed. No waste. Just what’s needed. That’s a lesson in itself.

Above the soil, when things are working, you can see it—healthy leaves, strong stems, good fruit. But none of it’s flashy. It’s just steady, real growth. And it starts below, where nobody’s looking.

That’s why we trust MicroLife. It matches how we try to live—steady, honest, faithful to what’s been given. We’re not chasing fast results. We’re trying to build something that lasts.

Now, blood meal is a different tool. We don’t use it often, but when we do, it serves a real purpose.

Sometimes, especially with fresh compost, there’s still a lot of shredded wood in the mix. That wood keeps breaking down even after we fill the beds. And to do that, it pulls nitrogen out of the soil. That’s not a mistake—it’s just part of how compost works. But it can make things tough on young plants, especially right after planting.

That’s where blood meal helps. It’s high in nitrogen and gives the soil a quick boost when it’s needed most. Not everywhere. Not all the time. Just where the wood content is still strong and the soil feels a little flat.

We don’t use it lightly. We check the beds first. We look at the texture, the smell, the color. If a bed needs help, we give it. If not, we leave it alone. It’s not about fixing everything—it’s about paying attention.

And there’s something sacred about blood meal.

It smells like what it is—death. It’s dried animal blood, usually from pigs or cattle. It’s sharp. Earthy. It reminds you that something gave its life. But the moment it touches soil, something starts to change. Life comes out of it. Energy flows into the roots. That smell fades. And a few weeks later, you might be picking tomatoes from a plant that wouldn’t have made it without that extra help.

There’s a truth in that I don’t take lightly: something died so something else could grow. In the soil, just like in life, the things that look like loss can still bring new life. We’ve seen it over and over.

One 40-pound bag of blood meal might represent the lives of around ten pigs. That’s no small thing. But from that, we can fertilize ten garden plots. Ten places where life starts again. And every time we scatter it, we remember—we don’t take this work lightly. We’re standing on something sacred.

We don’t use fertilizers to force things. We use them to support what’s already trying to grow. That’s how we see it.

We also rotate what we plant in each bed. Not every plant uses nutrients the same way. Some pull heavy on nitrogen. Others give some back. By rotating, we keep things balanced. We also fertilize every time we plant—but with patience. Sometimes we add more than the plant needs right now, because we know the next crop will need it. It’s not waste. It’s preparation.

That’s what this work is. It’s not just about this season. It’s about building something that lasts. We think about the next year, and the one after that. Because we’re not just growing food. We’re growing life.

This whole rhythm—fertilizing, rotating, paying attention—it’s about trusting the process. Trusting that God already put what we need in the soil. We just have to work with it. Not control it. Not rush it. Just stay present and faithful.

Because when you do that, the fruit comes. And when it does, it’s real.