Greetings from the future!

By Antonia Pickup

I’m writing this from 2030, having found a time portal tucked in behind the courgettes.

I’m sitting in my office (it’s tidy!) and am looking out at the garden in all its summer glory.

I can see people working, some in groups and others alone. I can hear the hum of gentle conversation and occasional bursts of joyful laughter. Above that, I hear skylarks and songbirds, the magpies’ distinctive cackle and the crow’s cronk. Behind it all is the buzz of bees, going from flower to flower, passing between our crops and the blooms in the wilder spaces within the garden that are there just for them. The crops are flourishing, and my eyes are blessed with an infinite number of shades of green, set against the clear blue sky. So far, all this is very similar to the view I just left behind in 2026. In my immediate vicinity, not much has changed. And that is because, in lots of ways, we have already created our perfect community market garden here at Roots.

I leave the office, walk further into our plot and stop and listen in on some conversations to see what, if anything, has changed (being careful not to alter the space-time continuum by accidentally making someone fall in love with me or telling someone next week’s lottery numbers, as tempting as that would be!).

There are some new faces working here. The Corner Plot is now recognisably an orchard, with some of the young trees we planted in the year I’ve come from now taller than me and bearing a promising small crop of fruit on their slim branches. Two joyful-looking people wearing T-shirts with the Roots logo on are leading a group of schoolchildren around the space. I laugh along with the shrieks of delight as the children come across the things they are hunting for fruit, insects, leaf shapes, a worm.

I can see someone working in the space beyond our 2026 boundaries, moving among areas which grow crops on a larger scale and others which are growing our fertility using green manures which, at this time of year, are a beautiful sight; a rainbow of grasses and flowers moving in the gentle breeze, covered in butterflies, moths and bees. In a quiet corner, I see someone taking a moment of peace on the veranda of a beautiful wooden hut which is there to give space to those who want to be a part of this incredible project but need to stand a bit apart from the crowd.

So far, on my travels around Community Roots in 2030, I can see that while there are new things, new areas, and more of all the good bits we currently have here, the heart and spirit of Roots has stayed the same. The people, the plants and the animals on this land are thriving, and there is an overarching feeling of hope and love.

It is at the end of the afternoon, when I follow the workers into the Big Shed for their regular staff catch-up, that I really start to feel the difference.

Firstly, there are more of us. The people from the Corner Plot are paid to share the magic of Roots with children of all ages, and the group I saw them working with was just one of a number of regular groups who come here throughout the seasons to connect with nature, food and each other. I hear them excitedly planning tomorrow’s harvest and cooking session with a group of children from Redruth, planning to introduce them to the joys of beetroot via the ever-popular pink hummus!

The workers from the new land are discussing how they are monitoring the return of life and health in this new patch that, until we took it over, was treated like a commodity with no soul of its own. I can see that one of these people must be a trainee or apprentice who is learning from the other, absorbing all the good there is to learn from Roots and our efforts to restore health and dignity to the land.

Someone emerges from the office with an air of kind efficiency, and I realise, with an unrivalled sense of delight, that this person takes care of the all the day-to-day admin and bureaucracy involved in running Roots! (This is real-life 2030, not a total utopia, so there is still some admin to be dealt with.)

Matty, Marion, Nicky, Becky and 2030 Antonia are already sitting around a table on the Big Shed veranda, a big pot of fresh herbal tea before them. The me of the future catches my eye and smiles, probably remembering this day well (even a peri-menopausal memory is going to retain something as special as time travel). All of us are smiling and laughing (no change there), but as the meeting gets under way, all I sense is excitement, joy, pride and satisfaction.

As everyone gives their updates, a few tricky issues are raised; concerns are voiced over how to make sure a particular volunteer can safely get what they need from Roots, the latest “pest” damage is discussed, thoughts are offered on how we can adapt crop planning to account for the hotter, drier summers. All of these subjects are talked through carefully, and various plans are made to offer additional support and buy some special equipment to help things run even better.

Then we get to “Finance Update”. Now I understand what has changed. Marion and Nicky report, with smiles on their faces, that “all is well”. Roots is thriving. We have healthy reserves in the bank, and as our income exceeds our outgoings, we are looking forward to the next management retreat, where we will start to prioritise how we might use our profits (yes, PROFITS!) to continue to spread all of our love and learning even more widely, helping others to create their own versions of Roots, tailored to their own environments and communities. I look around the circle of faces. No one has cried and no one has used the words “overwhelmed” or “if only”.

The meeting ends by going around the circle, everyone offering up something they are grateful for, ranging from the bountiful harvest of aubergines, the feeling of soil under bare feet and the sight of a rare butterfly, to the cake left over from tea break and someone getting tea in their favourite mug. Hugs and smiles all round, and then the garden is empty of people.

I do one more lap, then slide back in behind the courgettes and find myself back here, on the 15^th of July 2026. I look out of my window at the plants, flowers, insects and volunteers and am reminded that, in the five years since we started Roots, we have achieved so much, created such beauty and fostered such a sense of hope and possibility. We have taken our place within nature, and our wild family is truly flourishing.

I look down at my seemingly endless to-do list, and despite yesterday’s tears and feelings of overwhelm, I open my laptop and determinedly start working towards a future which I know to be both utterly necessary and completely possible. 

My time travelling adventure was inspired by the book “How to Fall in Love with the Future” by Rob Hopkins.