(Beauty is Pain Part 1)

Where do we get our ideas from? For me, growing food as part of a farming commons for the past two years, many ideas have come from the natural world itself, lessons which I believe are as ancient as the time before humans. I feel the need to share them. I am not the first to say these things and I hope I am not the last.

Last year at the farm I picked up a wooden board that had been laying dormant for a while, unaware that there was a family of field mice living there. The discovery startled me, and I dropped the board, probably injuring some of the poor mice. Immediately, my heart sank; I felt terribly guilty. I became more careful about the impact of my actions on the entire ecosystem. There is an immense responsibility we (farmers) carry for interfering with nature, whether we accept it or not. Thousands of lives are directly and indirectly impacted by our choices, and there have been countless times I have killed one plant while another flourishes. This is a life intimately intertwined with seasons, food webs, science, myth, miracle, birth, death, hope, loss, invention, destruction, balance, sunlight, economics, politics, spirituality. It is the best kindergarten and university lecture.

The land I have gotten to know over the past two years is quite urban, next to a casino, surrounded by parking lots and freeways. Even still, there is wildlife: Coyotes, Hawks, Swallows, Kildeer, Voles, Rabbits, Skunks, Starlings, Frogs, Moths, Bees, Butterflies, Worms, Ants, Microscopic and Subterranean creatures and more. I am continuously building relationships with them; I observe them and they observe me….  It can be overwhelming to delve into the intricacies of the web of life because it takes generations to understand, it is not meant for the shoulders of one individual in one lifetime. Many have lost this wealth of knowledge, which has been purposefully repressed through colonization, past and present. 

Generational and Indigenous knowledge stands as an action-based, relationship-based, extremely adaptable and community-based practice^[1][2]. As a beginner farmer and land custodian, I spend lots of time listening to what others have done. I’ve enjoyed the ecosystem-inclusive philosophies of Manasobu Fukuoka and Bhaskar Save, and local farmers like Isaac Crosby. These farmers are inspiring and I have learned much from them, but for me to really learn, I must act; in farming, philosophy is something you do, not just talk about. Which is why, even if you lack any precursory knowledge, you must get to know the land and where you are. It is unique and in constant motion, just as your exact being and situation and capabilities are all part of “where you are” in time-space. Think of the Chukchi in Siberia, they will not try to farm tomatoes when it makes more sense to hunt or herd animals and use their furs and fats (this very well may change in a hundred years though: what if a tomato fungus makes tomato farming in hot countries obsolete, and Anadyr becomes warmer with changing sea currents whilst the fungus cannot grow there because of the complex climate and chemical composition of the soil, and tomatoes begin to thrive in Siberia?).

This year started off rough. I couldn’t start my seeds as early as I wanted to because of access issues and so I failed to transplant them at the “right” time. I had just begun the season and I already felt like a failure, like I was behind everyone else, but I had to keep going. When I kept going, well, I was also delayed in receiving compost, many seedlings were eaten by voles, and disease was spread, but I indeed kept going — again. But adaptation is a farmer’s best friend. I can’t get into detail, but I tried new things, inventive and resourceful new things. Farmers must be dynamic, just like the windy world we are welcomed into. To mediate expectations, to work with, not against our circumstances, to focus on what we have instead of have-not. Even “junk” can be very useful, and junk became a collaborator of mine. A rusty forgotten trellis supports peas one year and cucumbers the next. Bricks can surround a bed or pathway, or be used as weights for a tarp. Wooden boards help to block sunlight and kill weeds so a new bed can be planted. Be careful with your junk — as we have learned, it is useful to more than just yourself!

This was also the year of letting things grow WILD (minimum weeding/green mulch). This can be beneficial for soil health and biodiversity. Things were going great until the humidity set, and a fungus called powdery mildew started to spread amongst the clover in my walkways and eventually the cucumbers too. At that moment, my previous dogma of minimum intervention farming was called into question. Why live by dogma that does not serve my goals? My garden won’t look like someone else’s because it simply isn’t. As Bruce Lee puts it, “Research your own experience; absorb what is useful, reject what is useless and add what is essentially your own^[3].” Just as he wrote a whole book on sharing his wisdom and then goes and preaches to the reader to create their own philosophy, I hope to do the same. I aim to respect historical practices by keeping what is great about them, constantly learning, focusing on my relationship with the land and adapting to our world’s needs. 

The root of the word “farm” is derived from the medieval institution of serfdom^[4], but historically, agriculture has also been a way that we have collaborated with our natural environments, benefiting the humans and non-humans involved^[5]. Farming is not cottagecore. There is a beauty far beyond aesthetic, in the realness of it all. My favorite thing is right when I arrive at the farm and I walk down every row just to see what is going on: A sprout, a blossom, a ripening fruit, a never-before-seen weed, a hungry-hungry-caterpillar. During this time, I simply observe, I get to listen to what needs attention, even if I was planning something different that day. I especially enjoyed harvesting parsnips this past October with my loving partner. They stay underground all year long, until the bitter and cold end. We dug them up like fossils, excited to meet each and every one of them, with dirty knees and grinning faces.

“For the chief quality that defines a farmer a Good Farmer is love and will always be love.” 

Hadden Turner^[6]