Lessons From the Farm

"What I have learned as a farmer I have learned also as a writer, and vice versa. I have farmed as a writer and written as a farmer. This is an experience that is resistant to any kind of simplification. I will go ahead and call it complexification. When I am called, as to my astonishment I sometimes am, a devotee of “simplicity” (since I live supposedly as a “simple farmer”), I am obliged to reply that I gave up the simple life when I left New York City in 1964 and came here to Kentucky. In New York, I lived as a passive consumer, supplying nearly all my needs by purchase, whereas here I supply many of my needs from this place by my work (and pleasure) and am responsible besides for the care of the place."
~Wendell Berry from The Way of Ignorance

I always get a kick out of friends and acquaintances from out-of-state who assume that because I'm from Indiana, I grew up shucking corn and bailing hay. Hunting, fishing, and canning vegetables from the garden. Truth is, I did grow up in a town of 1,400, but mostly I spent my youth shooting basketballs and hitting baseballs. I wish I had learned some of aforementioned skills, but I have committed some time in my twenties to at least learn how to grow my own food. Thus, last January, I moved onto Harvestland Farm, which required of me ten hours a week in the greenhouses, fields, or markets. I am so glad I did, and only recently did I move off the farm to be able to concentrate more fully on my writing, teaching, and graduate studies. I cannot adequately summarize everything I learned, but here are a few of the lessons I learned:

1. The importance of soil restoration.

Surprisingly (or perhaps not so surprisingly in a created world), soil is a lot like us. It needs nutrients, it needs broken down at times, it needs rest, and it is capable of producing great (or terrible) fruit. Even though we are--in some sense--a business, we have found a niche in farming diversely and organically. If you walk in one of our three (soon to be five) greenhouses, you will see a lot of green. Spinach, lettuce, kale, mizuna, arugula: you name it. Admittedly, when I first arrived at the farm, I didn't even know what a lot of these things were. But after a crop is done with its harvest, that soil goes through a very careful process. We are constantly rotating crops, as to not deplete the soil of all its potency. We add compost or manure and mix it in with what is already there. Sometimes we had substances like fish emulsion or vermiculite to give it some some extra fertility. One time we planted buckwheat, only to cut it and mix it into the soil. Its benefit to the dirt was the only reason we grew it. We use cover crops when space is going to be idle. This serves multiple purposes, including the addition of nutrients for the soil when we cut it down.

But cover crops also help hold soil in its place. Soil erosion is a big problem. We have a pond close to our main field, and one time in the spring, when it rained a bunch, the pond rose and washed into our field. Last fall, cover crops had been planted, but it had been done too late in the the season, so they didn't come up as much as we hoped. The rising and spreading bond caused us to lose a lot of soil. This was totally our mistake.

Big machinery or growing only one crop are common farming practices in today's world, and both are quite harmful to the soil. In the spring, I was surprised that fields around us seemed to hold standing water for weeks on end, whereas ours didn't. I suspect it had something to do with the health of the soil, as well as well-constructed run-offs that our fields have.

A farmer at a market absolutely swore by the pH of soils as a really important indicator. Once again, soil is like our bodies. Both desire a very similar pH. According to that farmer and plenty of research, proper monitoring of soil pH can eliminate a lot problems with insects and weeds.

2. The need for weeding.

This one may seem obvious. Anyone like me who's had a mother who grows flowers knows what weeding is. Just like in our lives, there are always things getting in the way. Clutter collects and stifles. On our particular farm--which is, again, a business--we were often guilty of not weeding enough regularly. So sometimes rows in a greenhouse look a lot like a mini jungle. Though we do have tractors and other small machines. , we do most of our work by hands and with manual tools. But one time, an area had been so neglected that in order to get it ready to plant again, we had to use all kinds of machines. We did the work with some shame, because we all knew the reason we were practically destroying the land to get it ready was because we had neglected the land in the first place.

3. Investing in tools.

There are certain tools everyone knows and associates with a farm: shovels, hoes, and tractors. I do hope to use as little machinery as possible because the work is good for our body and then we don't have to use energy sources that are running out. That said, I know that in order to garden or farm well, I will have to invest in it. Two of the tools I've come to love are broad forks and stirrup hoes. The first is used in the soil restoration process, the second is great for weeding.

4. Strategic scale.
I have always been more interested in farming/gardening for a household than as a moneymaker or an income builder. But I do think on a larger scale than I used to, and I'm open to the possibility of selling at markets. Even if I do, though, scale will be important. I am confident that I will grow a diverse set of crops. But if I take on too much, I will feel guilty for not working beyond my capacity and desire. And the crops and land will suffer from my neglect.

5. Systems that work together.
Like everything else, there are a million ways to farm. But smart, environmentally-conscience farmers do not just take on what everyone else is doing. Sustainability is a buzz word these days. My definition of sustainability would have something to do with all the parts working together. Farming is a process; it is cyclical. The most obvious example I can think of here is composting. Americans do a lot of consuming and very little thinking. We throw away a lot of things that don't need to be filling up landfills. By composting certain scraps, you throw away less and actually benefit the soil. ("Think win-win," habit four.) There are dozens of ways to farm that encourage parts working together, but another that I've been considering recently is the possibility of chickens alongside an orchard. The arrangement apparently works quite well because the chickens eat the damaged fruit that falls, while also fertilizing the trees with their waste.

6. Local, local, local!
It is a pretty accurate generalization that local is almost always better than something corporate or bureaucratic. Would you rather eat at Apple Bees or a town's restaurant that is owned locally and has been around for ages? Same thing for bars, grocery stores, or hardware stores. To be clear, making and buying local often costs more--that's because the work isn't done by slaves--but the better quality is definitely worth that increased cost.

You cannot get more local than picking a vegetable, rinsing it off in your sink, and then eating it on your table. There was a time in our nation's history when such an act was not uncommon. Now, much of the way we make food is quite despicable; there are several good books on this topic if you are interested. (Try Wendell Berry, Barbara Kingsolver, and Michael Pollan--in that order--if you are interested.) As much as we have stigmatized dirt and farming, I trust fruits that were made in that way much more than anything I buy at the grocery store. I don't have to ask questions about ethical companies or what chemicals were sprayed that will one day give me cancer. Making food this way feels and tastes great!