Today is one of those days in which putting one foot before
the other feels like walking in boots made of lead. Everything is so much harder
than it needs to be.
As if farming in-and-of itself weren’t hard enough, winter
is refusing to release her icy death grip, (almost 8 inches of snow today on
April 3rd and record low temps coming our way tonight!), I am facing
health issues for which I’ve been avoiding treatment for, because my husband Josh and
I are still struggling to pay off medical bills from the last two years, (thank you crappy health insurance!), and are
becoming quite weary of always being
broke. Our landlord decided recently to start giving us a hard
time about our responsibilities as care-takers - which is part of our rental agreement - and when we expressed that we
did not feel it was in our best interest to write a new contract at his request,
(the one we have is still valid and binding and I spent a lot of time
researching and formulating it), he sent us a 6-month notice to vacate the
property. This, of course, would have us moving at the height of farm season, a
time in which keeping up with fieldwork is a taxing task drawn out over very
long and physically demanding days. The thought of trying to move – not just a
home, but also a farm business - at that time of year, while still having to
fulfill our markets came just shy of giving me a major panic attack. And of
course… we would need a farm to move to.
I have been searching feverishly for a suitable farm to buy for the last six
months, but so far nothing has come along that we’ve felt strongly enough about
to make an offer. Moving an entire farm operation to another rental property
and then having to move it again once
we buy land was something we set out to avoid from the start, with this place. It
was supposed to grant us an opportunity to build up our business over 2-3 years
until we could buy our own farm. (For which we are on track! We are beginning
our 3rd season on this property and prepared to make an offer on a farm as soon as we can find something that suits us). Thankfully, I wrote us a solid
contract that would make it illegal for us to be forced out mid-season, without seriously
neglecting our end of the agreement, of course. Which we have not. Still, I spent a considerable amount of
time these last two months wringing my hands and wasting oodles of invaluable hours
reading up on Wisconsin laws regarding agricultural leases and seeking legal
counsel, rather than finishing the overdue business plan for our lender, and
accomplishing other time-sensitive promotional work.
Everything about farming
revolves around time. There is either far too much of it, or not nearly enough.
Life as a beginning farmer has certainly been exciting and often
joyful, as well. Tucked between the exhaustion, fear and frustration are regular moments
of wonder, gratitude and contentment. Winnowburrow Farm is finding it’s
identity as Josh and I hash our way through the thick, testing out available markets, discovering
our growing passions, assessing our resources verses our limitations, and
integrating into a wonderful and supportive community. Starting any new
business is bound to be wrought with adventure, coupled with stress. Farming is
no different, and in many ways, presents a multitude of unique challenges that
most business models would have great difficulty navigating. The simple immense feat of land ownership is the
most prime example. There are far more beginning farmers in America today that
do not come from farm families, than
do. (Sadly, there are not very many beginning farmers at all compared to the population that
is retiring. Yet another important and very overlooked topic in our great nation).
With land prices driven up by Big Ag farms scooping every tillable acre they
can get their hands on at a premium price, access to affordable, farm-able land is
a beginning farmer’s single greatest barrier.
We have been fortunate to find opportunities which allow
us cultivate soil. It has been the pure generosity of land-owners trusting
stewardship to us that has laid the groundwork for our current success. Three
years ago we were seeking a farm internship and today we are running a unique
CSA (Community Supported Agriculture), growing rare and endangered Heirlooms and developing a successful cut
flower business. We have many plans for our farm, most of which require
ownership to execute and we are more than ready for our “forever farm” so that
we can continue to grow a viable business. Just waiting for that small miracle
to come along!
Everyone told me this would be hard and of course I knew that it would
be. Is it harder than I anticipated? The answer is absolutely, unequivocally YES.
I thought I had a pretty good idea of
what I was getting into, but the truth is, when you are actually presented with
the daily challenges the life of farm start-up throws at you, you find that it
requires far more energy and patience than a sane human can generally handle. Especially
when the property you are starting on lacks basic resources… such as running
water… (I’ve always said I enjoy a good challenge… Commence eye-rolling…)! Ultimately though, being tired isn’t the worst
thing ever. The rewards far outweigh the bummer moments. I imagine new parents feel the same. (To my beginning farmer friends who are also new parents... my sympathies)!
It is my sincere hope that more young folks choose this
career path. And also that the strangling laws and regulations this country so unnecessarily
impose on farmers and food systems loosen, so that folks like us have an
easier time succeeding. If I have any advice to offer, based on my journey thus
far, it is to stay positive,
believe you deserve it, share your passion with everyone, dig for resources
and do not be afraid to ask! The resources are there. Trust
me. And if you’re motivated to do good work, people will not only support you… they
will help!
Manifestation is a great spade to have in your tool shed. It
goes beyond dreaming. It is also believing, planning and doing. People won’t
believe you are successful unless you
believe you are successful. And you won’t reach your farm goals unless you stay
patient, stay motivated and follow all the steps. Self-education is key. A
horticultural degree might be right for some, but there are plenty of other
ways to learn how to grow, without going into massive debt. The Land
Stewardship Project and MOSES offer many classes, workshops and farm field
days. Local Farmers Unions chapters provide resources. Many farms offer
internships. The WWOOF network makes it easy to travel and learn about organic
farming. Many states also have small
non-profits which provide programs for learning opportunities, such as the
WFAN, based in Iowa and Nebraska, which is how I managed to score a kick-ass
mentorship with Denise O’Briene, who is still my mentor, today. Farm Service
Agency (FSA) and National Resources Conservations Service (NRCS) offer financial
resources. There is also the internet, of course, and it is an invaluable
resource for farming as much as anything else.
For those who are not destined to become farmers, please,
please, please, do what ever you can
to support local farmers! Buy from them, volunteer to help them, share their
stories, share their product, connect them with potential markets if you have
resources to do so. Just give them money. (Kidding, not kidding). None of us are out here struggling and toiling and
destroying our bodies to make it rich. Our richness is in a lifestyle of
connectedness to nature. It sure is worth a lot to us, but it generally doesn’t
do a great job paying the bills. It’s a trade-off. The cheap and fast food
society that we've become is not working to anyone’s advantage. We all need to eat,
and the folks providing the food are suffering the most, these days. An article
was recently circulating about how farmer suicide rates in the United States are
significantly higher than that of war Veterans. That’s a scary notion and being
three-years-deep myself and already feeling on the verge of burnout, longevity
in this field is a concern to me. How can we – as a society and individual
communities - overcome this disparity together
and realize that - in many cases - our relationship to nature is manifested most by what we put
in our mouths every single day? And that the folks who work damn hard with endless
obstacles are making sure we all still have something to put in our pie holes?
Just
some thoughts from a rambling, unnecessarily stressed out farmer. Carry on, and carry a big
pitchfork. (Whether literally or metaphorically).
