Greetings everyone,
It’s been quite some time since my last post, and by now you will have surmised that the Farm Dispatch is transitioning from a weekly to a “whenever time and inspiration permit” format. My excitement for sharing what I'm learning hasn't diminished, but my free time and potential writing topics have. And of course there is the phenomenon of "the more you know, the more you realize you don't know" that I run into with increasing frequency! Anyway, I hope you'll continue to get something out of these posts even if they're fewer and further between.
This Saturday (October 6), the farm will be having its annual fall harvest festival from 11 - 5. If you're interested in coming, here is the press release from UCSC (http://www.ucsc.edu/news_events/text.asp?pid=1564). I hope to see some of you there.
To start off with this week, I would like to thank everyone who attended the “Day at the Farm” event on September 8. It was wonderful to see so many friends and family engaging with one another and enjoying the beauty of the farm. For those of you who weren’t able to make it, I’ve included a link to some photos taken from our good family friend Toddy Kuiper (http://picasaweb.google.com/morse.chad/ADayAtTheFarmSept82007). There were approximately 50 people in attendance, ranging in age from four months to 820 months (give or take!). Given the positive feedback I’ve gotten from some of you, I am hoping to organize a similar event sometime next year. Which brings me to the good news that myself and six others have been hired on as assistant garden managers for the upcoming year. So an open invitation to visit stands until November of 2008!
At the outset of the September 8 event, I gave a short talk on two fundamentally different ways in which we can approach agriculture, one of which I termed “industrial” and the other “ecological” (if you’d like to hear an audio file of the talk, Tim Andonian was kind enough to put a copy of it on his web site http://64.81.54.85/nexus/node/12). To grossly oversimplify, the former approach superimposes industrial techniques and values on the processes of cultivation, marketing, and consuming food. By contrast, the ecological approach to food systems envisions human beings as one organism in an incredibly complex but well-balanced set of relationships. The goal of industrial agriculture is to attain maximum yield and profits, whereas the goal of ecological agriculture is to maintain balance. To address our pressing environmental and social challenges, I suggested, we must begin to shift our collective thinking from and industrial model to an ecological one.
As part of the apprenticeship program, we attend classes on many ag-related topics and visit innovative farms in the Bay Area. A recent lecture by environmental science professor Ann Lopez and a visit to grower Bob Cannard’s farm in Sonoma County illustrate vividly the implications of industrial and ecological approaches to agriculture.
Ann Lopez has been researching the impact of our increasingly industrialized food system on farming communities in Mexico, particularly after the ratification of NAFTA in 1994. For several reasons, including an inability to compete with heavily subsidized corn grown in the US, Mexican farmers have had to leave their land by the hundreds of thousands. Many come to find work in the US and send money home to their families in Mexico. Others move to find factory work in Mexico’s rapidly expanding urban areas. Still others try to find work on the large-scale industrial farms which are proliferating as small farmers leave their land. The environmental and social implications of this phenomenon are huge. Whole communities are losing their male populations to the US or to the cities. Land that has been farmed with place-specific, sustainable techniques for hundreds or thousands of years is being converted to huge industrial farms. The biodiversity of hundreds of varieties of corn and other crops that have been selected for over the millennia are being lost and replaced by a handful of genetically modified hybrids produced by transnational corporations. Toxic pesticides and herbicides (many of which have long been banned for use, but not production and sale to other countries, in the US) are being used in staggering amounts. HIV/AIDS has reached epidemic levels in some areas, carried home to Mexico from the US by men who live virtually isolated from all women save prostitutes for many months out of the year. While it can be difficult to perceive these symptoms in wealthier nations, the logic of industrial agriculture leads inexorably to ecological and social collapse, the effects of which are always felt first in developing nations.
Happily, this very sobering lecture was followed a few days later by a visit to the most complete and exciting example of an ecologically oriented farm that I’ve ever seen. On a crisp fall morning, Bob Cannard showed us around his 30 acre home farm a few miles outside of the city of Sonoma. At first glance, it’s hard to imagine that Bob’s farm produces fruits, vegetables, meat, and poultry for notable clients including Chez Panisse (Alice Waters’ renowned Berkeley restaurant that helped launch the movement back towards fresh, local food). In fact, one’s first impression is that Bob doesn’t know much about farming at all. He brings us to a ¼ acre field of what he maintains are potatoes, but all that is visible is a fantastic number of waist-high weeds. Yet there is method to this madness. The weeds serve to stabilize the soil against erosion and, when they have finished their life cycle, their biomass provides excellent fertility. Bob only cuts the weeds back at very specific stages of the potatoes’ life cycle to allow his crop a bit of competitive advantage. Most of Bob’s techniques fly in the face of what the majority of us would consider good farming practices, and yet he is able to grow extremely high quality produce with few inputs and little mechanization. The key to Bob’s system is his extraordinary understanding of biological and ecological systems. Through this depth of understanding, he is able to work with natural systems and not against them. And because he so successfully cultivates a balanced ecosystem, he has virtually no problem with insect or animal pests.
Aside from the obvious disparity in environmental health, equally important is the difference in quality of life that these approaches afford those who work the land and provide us with our sustenance. The Mexican farmers who have left their homes and families to work in Salinas or Watsonville or Yuma are now engaged repetitive, back-breaking work that demands much from their bodies but little from their minds. Bob Cannard radiates a passionate joy as he uses all of his intelligence, creativity, and powers of observation to orchestrate farming that has been elevated to the level of art.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
sustainability and diversity
Greetings all. Apologies for my recent hiatus. As we push further into summer at the farm, a sort of biological crescendo is building. More crops. More harvests. More weeds. More weeding. This past weekend also marked the program’s 40th anniversary, so the farm has been playing host to over 500 alumni for a series of events and symposia.
Before I launch into this week’s topic, I wanted to clarify some info with regards to the “Day on the Farm” event on September 8. I realized that my invitation didn’t make it obvious that this is something that I personally am organizing for friends and family, not an event that is being planned by staff of the agroecology apprenticeship program. Thus you can expect a more amateurish, but hopefully more personal, educational experience! Again, if you haven’t signed up but would like to go, please RSVP by email or by evite.
My writing thus far has generally taken the UCSC farm as its starting point for subject material, but today I’d like to jump a few time zones and a very big ocean for a field trip to Asia. In 2005 and 2006, I visited small agricultural villages in Indonesia and Sri Lanka, respectively. While Madumana in southern Sri Lanka and Toho on the island of Borneo are worlds apart in many respects, they share some common traits which relate to my topic this week: the importance of cultural and agricultural diversity with regards to sustainability. Madumana and Toho are both small villages with several hundred residents. Life in both villages centers around agriculture, the staple crop in each locale being rice. While modern technologies are slowly creeping in, villagers in Madumana and Toho live much like their ancestors 100 or 500 years ago likely did. Monetarily, the villages are very poor. There are few if any paved roads, cars, or mechanized farming tools. Villagers face public health issues that are largely non-existent in industrialized areas. And anyone craving a caramel macchiato is out of luck, as Starbucks has not yet set up shop in either village.
Yet I have found much to be inspired by in Madumana and Toho. There is neither obesity nor malnutrition. No traffic jams. Low crime. There is a strong sense of community and a connection to and appreciation of the land. There is a general sense of well-being and personal integrity that is eye-opening. And, most importantly for the subject matter of this blog, both villages are still relatively self-sustaining with regards to natural resources.
I don’t intend to romanticize the lives of villagers in Madumana and Toho. Rather, I want to share how striking and affirming it is to see people living meaningful, comfortable lives without cars and televisions and supermarkets (and thus without consuming the resources these modern conveniences necessitate). It is invigorating to meet people who know where their food comes from and how to grow it. People who build their own houses and create their own music. And yet, it is almost universally assumed that the logical progression for Toho and Madumana is to “develop” and to join the rapidly globalizing world. It is not difficult for me to imagine how that will affect the villages and the villagers. Farmers will shift from subsistence farming intended to feed their families and their livestock to cash cropping. Young people will flood into cities that are growing too quickly to absorb the influx as farm work becomes more mechanized. Modern conveniences and technologies will stream in, followed closely by modern problems and pathologies. Local customs, cultural traditions, languages and dialects will recede as villagers discover the addictive qualities of General Hospital and Survivor.
There are of course positives that are brought forth by this process, such as improved access to health care education. But my focus today is on what is often lost in the process we call globalization: diversity.
Several years ago, I wrote a research paper on linguistic diversity in the European Union. The EU, like the rest of the world, is seeing its linguistic diversity plummet. There are many reasons for this; mass media, advances in travel and communications, etc. But what it boils down to is that as scale increases (in terms of governance, business, etc.), diversity becomes increasingly costly and cumbersome. Over half of the EU’s annual budget, for example, goes towards translation, interpretation, and printing to accommodate the union’s 11 official languages (This was as of 2000. After new expansions, the number of official languages and associated costs have likely increased). Yet there are still native speakers of over 30 major languages in Europe that cannot read the rules that govern them in their own tongue. From there it is a slippery slope towards linguistic irrelevence and eventual extinction. The EU is struggling to strike a balance between the efficiency of communication and the richness and diversity of human expression.
With regards to the global market and sustainability, we are witnessing a similar, and very serious, tension of extremes. Markets expand as those participating in them homogenize their practices and preferences (this is the aim of the IMF and WTO’s “structural adjustment”). Natural systems, on the other hand, have always flourished through diversity. Markets favor short-term gain, whereas natural systems lend themselves to long-term sustainability. My concern is that we are dangerously out of balance in this respect. The logic of the market has become so dominant that it is threatening to pave over, in a blink of geological time, the biological, cultural, and agricultural diversity that have been developed by both man and the natural world through the millennia. My regard for Madumana and Toho is not merely sentimental. They are not Utopias, but they offer us lessons in how to live more lightly and perhaps more sanely. But they are lessons we must learn quickly, because such villages are disappearing into our increasingly homogenized global economic system at an alarming rate. Sustainability is place specific. There is no “one size fits all”. Thus we should not be looking for models to emulate, but for principles that can be applied anywhere. In terms of sustainable living, the world is busily burning down its libraries of Alexandria and plunging itself into ignorance. We need to treasure and revere the volumes which still exist.
The thoughts I've shared on this topic are greatly simplified and perhaps provocative, so I would love to hear your questions or comments. Until next time, be well!
Before I launch into this week’s topic, I wanted to clarify some info with regards to the “Day on the Farm” event on September 8. I realized that my invitation didn’t make it obvious that this is something that I personally am organizing for friends and family, not an event that is being planned by staff of the agroecology apprenticeship program. Thus you can expect a more amateurish, but hopefully more personal, educational experience! Again, if you haven’t signed up but would like to go, please RSVP by email or by evite.
My writing thus far has generally taken the UCSC farm as its starting point for subject material, but today I’d like to jump a few time zones and a very big ocean for a field trip to Asia. In 2005 and 2006, I visited small agricultural villages in Indonesia and Sri Lanka, respectively. While Madumana in southern Sri Lanka and Toho on the island of Borneo are worlds apart in many respects, they share some common traits which relate to my topic this week: the importance of cultural and agricultural diversity with regards to sustainability. Madumana and Toho are both small villages with several hundred residents. Life in both villages centers around agriculture, the staple crop in each locale being rice. While modern technologies are slowly creeping in, villagers in Madumana and Toho live much like their ancestors 100 or 500 years ago likely did. Monetarily, the villages are very poor. There are few if any paved roads, cars, or mechanized farming tools. Villagers face public health issues that are largely non-existent in industrialized areas. And anyone craving a caramel macchiato is out of luck, as Starbucks has not yet set up shop in either village.
Yet I have found much to be inspired by in Madumana and Toho. There is neither obesity nor malnutrition. No traffic jams. Low crime. There is a strong sense of community and a connection to and appreciation of the land. There is a general sense of well-being and personal integrity that is eye-opening. And, most importantly for the subject matter of this blog, both villages are still relatively self-sustaining with regards to natural resources.
I don’t intend to romanticize the lives of villagers in Madumana and Toho. Rather, I want to share how striking and affirming it is to see people living meaningful, comfortable lives without cars and televisions and supermarkets (and thus without consuming the resources these modern conveniences necessitate). It is invigorating to meet people who know where their food comes from and how to grow it. People who build their own houses and create their own music. And yet, it is almost universally assumed that the logical progression for Toho and Madumana is to “develop” and to join the rapidly globalizing world. It is not difficult for me to imagine how that will affect the villages and the villagers. Farmers will shift from subsistence farming intended to feed their families and their livestock to cash cropping. Young people will flood into cities that are growing too quickly to absorb the influx as farm work becomes more mechanized. Modern conveniences and technologies will stream in, followed closely by modern problems and pathologies. Local customs, cultural traditions, languages and dialects will recede as villagers discover the addictive qualities of General Hospital and Survivor.
There are of course positives that are brought forth by this process, such as improved access to health care education. But my focus today is on what is often lost in the process we call globalization: diversity.
Several years ago, I wrote a research paper on linguistic diversity in the European Union. The EU, like the rest of the world, is seeing its linguistic diversity plummet. There are many reasons for this; mass media, advances in travel and communications, etc. But what it boils down to is that as scale increases (in terms of governance, business, etc.), diversity becomes increasingly costly and cumbersome. Over half of the EU’s annual budget, for example, goes towards translation, interpretation, and printing to accommodate the union’s 11 official languages (This was as of 2000. After new expansions, the number of official languages and associated costs have likely increased). Yet there are still native speakers of over 30 major languages in Europe that cannot read the rules that govern them in their own tongue. From there it is a slippery slope towards linguistic irrelevence and eventual extinction. The EU is struggling to strike a balance between the efficiency of communication and the richness and diversity of human expression.
With regards to the global market and sustainability, we are witnessing a similar, and very serious, tension of extremes. Markets expand as those participating in them homogenize their practices and preferences (this is the aim of the IMF and WTO’s “structural adjustment”). Natural systems, on the other hand, have always flourished through diversity. Markets favor short-term gain, whereas natural systems lend themselves to long-term sustainability. My concern is that we are dangerously out of balance in this respect. The logic of the market has become so dominant that it is threatening to pave over, in a blink of geological time, the biological, cultural, and agricultural diversity that have been developed by both man and the natural world through the millennia. My regard for Madumana and Toho is not merely sentimental. They are not Utopias, but they offer us lessons in how to live more lightly and perhaps more sanely. But they are lessons we must learn quickly, because such villages are disappearing into our increasingly homogenized global economic system at an alarming rate. Sustainability is place specific. There is no “one size fits all”. Thus we should not be looking for models to emulate, but for principles that can be applied anywhere. In terms of sustainable living, the world is busily burning down its libraries of Alexandria and plunging itself into ignorance. We need to treasure and revere the volumes which still exist.
The thoughts I've shared on this topic are greatly simplified and perhaps provocative, so I would love to hear your questions or comments. Until next time, be well!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
A day at the farm: September 8
Greetings all,
I'd like to invite you to roll up your sleeves for a day of workshops, good food, and good people at the UCSC Farm and Garden. I'll be giving a short class on agroecology followed by a potluck lunch, skill workshops, and farm tours. Family and friends, friends of friends, friends of family, family of friends... all are welcome! I suspect that many of you won't be able to make it due to minor logistical challenges (i.e. you don't live in this hemisphere). Your presence will be missed!
The tentative schedule for the day is as follows:
9:45am: Arrive at the farm
10:00am: Interactive class on agroecology and food systems
12:00pm: Potluck lunch
1:00pm: Skill workshops
2:30pm: Farm tour
Everyone is invited to attend all or selected events. As the date approaches, I will send more detailed information as to workshops, class content, parking, etc. If possible, please RSVP by August 20. If you know what you would like to bring for the potluck, include it in your response on the evite so that others can plan accordingly. There will also be some dishes with food fresh from the fields. If you did not receive an evite but would like to attend the event, please email me at morse.chad@gmail.com.
I look forward to seeing many of you and sharing with you this very inspiring place!
All the best,
Chad
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Cultivating reverence
I'm afraid I may be jumping the bounds of agriculture and straying into social commentary more than usual this week, but the topic of this post has been on my mind lately. I'd like to share a few thoughts on our society's relationship both to food and to death and dying, and why those relationships are at the heart of many of our environmental, social, and psychological problems. The complexities and specialization of the modern world, I believe, have distanced us from the processes that bring food to the table and that bring our lives to a close. While modernity has brought us inarguable benefits, our decreased intimacy with and therefor understanding of the most basic processes of life and death has serious ramifications.
These thoughts were rekindled last week during a conversation with a dinner guest at the farm who is studying to be a palliative care nurse. I shared with him that my father passed away two years ago and spent the last two weeks of his life under hospice care--first at his own home and finally at Monterey Hospice House. While hospice care didn't make the loss of my father any less painful, I believe it helped my family integrate his passing with the broader scope of his life. That sense of integration has brought me some understanding, comfort, and sense of peace. So often, the aging and dying process is hidden behind the doors of nursing homes and hospitals. I think we all suffer on account of this--those isolated by their age or illness and those of us who have become unfamiliar with death and dying. Consequently, we understand very little about death. We fear it and avoid facing it all the more. The fascination with death and violence in our popular media reflects a deep alienation from the dying process.
Our relationship to food has become similarly detached and opaque. Because we only participate in the final stage of the process--consumption--food has been reduced to a commodity. Most of the process which brings food to our supermarkets is now hidden from view. Yet for millennia, agriculture was a primary way in which mankind studied, understood, and appreciated the workings and rhythms of the natural world. This intimacy with natural and semi-natural ecosystems fosters a reverence for life which manifests logically in an attitude of respect, conservation, and stewardship. Now that less than 2% of of Americans are directly engaged in agriculture, and those who do farm are increasingly pressured to do so in a way that is more industrial than ecological, it is not surprising that we face an ecological crisis. Alienation from the natural world is a much bigger threat to the environment than an army of Humvees because the latter stems from the former.
The 20th century thinker Krishnamurti wrote, "Our problems--social, political, religious--are so complex that we can solve them only by being simple, not by becoming extraordinarily erudite or clever." Gardening is in some ways a simple act. But it is helping me cultivate a deeper understanding of and reverence for life, death, and the processes of the natural world. And because actions are ultimately extensions of our attitudes, I find such cultivation to be a most practical step in addressing in my own way the complex problems of our time.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Community Supported Agriculture
Tuesday morning was cool and foggy--par for the course in Santa Cruz and excellent weather for our first big harvest.
We convened in the fields and gardens to receive our marching orders. The chalk boards listed about 20 crops and the amount to be harvested of each. 200 heads of lettuce. 80 pounds of spinach. 200 pints of blueberries. When all had been cut and cleaned, boxed and bundled and packaged, we moved the produce to the picturesque old barn where the farm's Community Supported Agriculture members pick up their weekly bounty.
Small farmers are faced with the challenge of selling their produce in a food system that favors large, industrial growers. Hundreds of thousands of small farms have succomed to this economic calculus in the past century. Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) is one of the more compelling models that has evolved to meet this challenge. Members of a CSA purchase a share of the farmers produce in advance of the harvest season and receive a regular supply (typically weekly, bi-weekly, or monthly) of fruits and vegetables. The farmer benefits by receiving his capital up front and is assured a steady market throughout the season. Some of the financial risk of his operation is effectively dispersed through the "investers" in his enterprise. Members obtain high quality produce at a reduced rate and enjoy a sense of connectivity to the food they eat, the land it was grown in, and the farmer whose labor brought it to being.
The CSA evolved independently and uniquely in Japan and Europe after World War II. The first CSA in the US, largely based on the European model, began in 1986 in New Hampshire. Today there are upwards of 2000 CSA farms in the US, ranging in membership from 10 - 1000. Farmers and members have developed countless varieties on the CSA theme. Some CSA memberships entail some involvement in farm labor, while other CSA members simply receive their reqular box without much interaction with the farm.
CSAs present their share of challenges as well. Developing a membership base, managing a large cooperative, creating newsletters, etc. are additional and often time consuming responsibilities that are added to the farmer's plate. Furthermore, CSAs typically offer a wide variety of seasonal produce to attract members and thus present farmers with more complexities than a monocrop operation.
Many of our 100-plus CSA members arrived early on Tuesday, often with their children, eager to pick up their first share and make bouquets out of our CSA flower garden. Their boxes included a dozen or so crops, including spinach, strawberries, rainbow chard, and -- to everyone's great delight -- two pints of fresh blueberries.
Monday, June 4, 2007
laboring for strawberries
On Saturday, I drove 10 miles north of Santa Cruz on Highway 1 to Swanton Berry farm. Swanton's farm manager, a former program participant, had said they could use a few extra hands for their peak strawberry harvest. So, four of us ventured up the coast for a square meal, $8/per hour, and an education in the daily reality of manual field labor.
We hit the fields at 10:30am and maneuvered our harvesting carts down the rows until 4pm with a half-hour lunch break. By 12:30pm, with knees and back beginning to express their displeasure, I had established what I thought to be a respectable pace of one flat (12 one pint baskets) per hour. Then the crew arrived. 30 men -- mainly Mexicans and a handful of Salvadorians -- marched onto the field and swept like a wave down the rows. In one hour's time, they had picked the adjecent field clean at a rate of 4 1/2 flats per person per hour. Then they were gone and on to the next field.
Swanton is one of California's oldest organic berry farms. Relative to most farms, they provide their workers with very good compensation: health care, housing, $8-10/hr wages, and overtime pay (after 60 hours). Yet there is no getting around the fact that this is back-breaking work. During picking season, workers spend 60-80 hours per week in the fields. In the winter months, many relocate to the fields in Yuma, Arizona. Job security is very low, and workers spend months and sometimes years away from family.
Cheap labor is the backbone of California agriculture and has deep historical roots. Our present system can essentially be traced to the Spanish period, during which time indigenous peoples were forced to cultivate mission lands. After the precipitous decline in the native population, a long line of impoverished immigrant groups have renewed the labor pool: Chinese, Japanese, Eastern Europeans, Mexicans, Okies, Filipinos, and a second wave of Mexicans (and other Central Americans). This historical background explains in part why California agriculture remains so labor intensive when compared to farming practices in regions like the Midwest, where labor has increasingly been replaced by technology.
In a previous post, I suggested that food should occupy a higher place on our collective priority list and should, by extension, cost more. Just as there are hidden environmental costs in the pursuit of cheaper and cheaper food, there are manifold hidden social costs.
We hit the fields at 10:30am and maneuvered our harvesting carts down the rows until 4pm with a half-hour lunch break. By 12:30pm, with knees and back beginning to express their displeasure, I had established what I thought to be a respectable pace of one flat (12 one pint baskets) per hour. Then the crew arrived. 30 men -- mainly Mexicans and a handful of Salvadorians -- marched onto the field and swept like a wave down the rows. In one hour's time, they had picked the adjecent field clean at a rate of 4 1/2 flats per person per hour. Then they were gone and on to the next field.
Swanton is one of California's oldest organic berry farms. Relative to most farms, they provide their workers with very good compensation: health care, housing, $8-10/hr wages, and overtime pay (after 60 hours). Yet there is no getting around the fact that this is back-breaking work. During picking season, workers spend 60-80 hours per week in the fields. In the winter months, many relocate to the fields in Yuma, Arizona. Job security is very low, and workers spend months and sometimes years away from family.
Cheap labor is the backbone of California agriculture and has deep historical roots. Our present system can essentially be traced to the Spanish period, during which time indigenous peoples were forced to cultivate mission lands. After the precipitous decline in the native population, a long line of impoverished immigrant groups have renewed the labor pool: Chinese, Japanese, Eastern Europeans, Mexicans, Okies, Filipinos, and a second wave of Mexicans (and other Central Americans). This historical background explains in part why California agriculture remains so labor intensive when compared to farming practices in regions like the Midwest, where labor has increasingly been replaced by technology.
In a previous post, I suggested that food should occupy a higher place on our collective priority list and should, by extension, cost more. Just as there are hidden environmental costs in the pursuit of cheaper and cheaper food, there are manifold hidden social costs.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
where we are and what we're doing
Having written about broader food and agriculture issues for the past several weeks, I’d like to explain a bit more about the UCSC farm and garden and the apprenticeship in agroecology. Hopefully, this post will provide you all with some context and highlight the ways in which some members of the program will be applying the information and skills they acquire.
The original garden was founded in 1967, at the behest of faculty and students, by an accomplished and eccentric Englishman named Alan Chadwick (virtually every account I’ve either read or heard of him features the word “mercurial”). Chadwick imported a style of gardening, known as “French bio-intensive”, which emphasizes soil care, organic inputs, and dense plant spacings to obtain high yields in minimal space. As the apprenticeship grew, the university provided more land to the program. Today the farm occupies about 25 acres and features three sites of distinct scale and topography. The managers of each site utilize the cultivation techniques and farm equipment which best suit their particular location. For example, tractors are used to cultivate the 10 acres of the main field, whereas only hand tools are utilized in the two large garden sites. Apprentices rotate between sites and thus gain a familiarity with diverse growing practices.
The purpose of the program is to build a solid skill base in growing sustainable food amongst a diverse group of farmers, educators, health workers, community organizers, etc. Approximately 1 ½ days per week are dedicated to classroom learning on topics ranging from botany to direct marketing to social justice issues. The remainder of the week, we learn by watching, doing, and asking questions in the fields. I find the emphasis on experiential learning increases retention of information and helps apprentices grasp the relevance and applicability of the classroom components. I personally believe our education system is too skewed towards a relatively abstract classroom learning which often fails to engage and challenge students. Much of my interest in the apprenticeship stems from a desire to familiarize myself with a more hands on and potentially transformative approach to education.
It is inspiring to talk with my fellow apprentices about their plans once they complete the program. Mwale from Zambia will return to his home country and continue to work as a government extension agent encouraging small farmers to adopt more sustainable techniques. Herb, the former UCLA Medical Center surgeon, will delve into his “retirement” helping establish school gardens in Los Angeles. Josh, a fifth generation farmer from Arkansas, will continue to spearhead changes on his family farm and spread awareness of sustainability issues in his home state. In diverse ways, apprentices are poised to spark positive change in their communities.
Thanks to all who have taken the time to read these posts. I’m enjoying the process of wrestling the thoughts onto the page (or the screen, I suppose), and I hope you’re finding something interesting or informative from week to week. Feel free to let me know if you have thoughts about the content and format of the page, or whether there are particular topics you’d like to read about with regards to sustainable food systems. One of these days, I will learn how to post pictures. Until that day, I salute you for plowing through this decidedly bland motif!
Eat well and be well.
The original garden was founded in 1967, at the behest of faculty and students, by an accomplished and eccentric Englishman named Alan Chadwick (virtually every account I’ve either read or heard of him features the word “mercurial”). Chadwick imported a style of gardening, known as “French bio-intensive”, which emphasizes soil care, organic inputs, and dense plant spacings to obtain high yields in minimal space. As the apprenticeship grew, the university provided more land to the program. Today the farm occupies about 25 acres and features three sites of distinct scale and topography. The managers of each site utilize the cultivation techniques and farm equipment which best suit their particular location. For example, tractors are used to cultivate the 10 acres of the main field, whereas only hand tools are utilized in the two large garden sites. Apprentices rotate between sites and thus gain a familiarity with diverse growing practices.
The purpose of the program is to build a solid skill base in growing sustainable food amongst a diverse group of farmers, educators, health workers, community organizers, etc. Approximately 1 ½ days per week are dedicated to classroom learning on topics ranging from botany to direct marketing to social justice issues. The remainder of the week, we learn by watching, doing, and asking questions in the fields. I find the emphasis on experiential learning increases retention of information and helps apprentices grasp the relevance and applicability of the classroom components. I personally believe our education system is too skewed towards a relatively abstract classroom learning which often fails to engage and challenge students. Much of my interest in the apprenticeship stems from a desire to familiarize myself with a more hands on and potentially transformative approach to education.
It is inspiring to talk with my fellow apprentices about their plans once they complete the program. Mwale from Zambia will return to his home country and continue to work as a government extension agent encouraging small farmers to adopt more sustainable techniques. Herb, the former UCLA Medical Center surgeon, will delve into his “retirement” helping establish school gardens in Los Angeles. Josh, a fifth generation farmer from Arkansas, will continue to spearhead changes on his family farm and spread awareness of sustainability issues in his home state. In diverse ways, apprentices are poised to spark positive change in their communities.
Thanks to all who have taken the time to read these posts. I’m enjoying the process of wrestling the thoughts onto the page (or the screen, I suppose), and I hope you’re finding something interesting or informative from week to week. Feel free to let me know if you have thoughts about the content and format of the page, or whether there are particular topics you’d like to read about with regards to sustainable food systems. One of these days, I will learn how to post pictures. Until that day, I salute you for plowing through this decidedly bland motif!
Eat well and be well.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
beets, potatoes, and the joys of seasonal eating
I've eaten a lot of beets during this first month on the farm. Roasted beets with rosemary. Shredded beet salad. Sushi rolls with beets and avacado. I had never dared imagine so many culinary permutations.
We rotate cooking in pairs for the 50-odd people involved in the program. Staples like rice, butter, and cooking oil are bought in bulk, but the majority of our produce comes directly from the farm. In April and May, that means lots of beets. A smattering of parsnips and kiwis which have also been stored through the winter. A handful of early season greens. And many, many beets.
Only in this context does the following description of group euphoria make sense. While preparing a bed for planting a few weeks ago, several apprentices chanced upon a large number of "volunteer" purple potatoes--holdovers from the previous season that had gone about proliferating. The discovery was promptly harvested, washed, and delivered to Ben and Dan, our cooks on duty. The garlic potato dish they conjured up was received with rapturous applause, and it was generally agreed that potatoes had never tasted quite so good.
As the growing season progresses, there is a wonderful and growing air of anticipation. I watch as apple blossoms fade and the fruits begin to swell, reminding me that cider and apple pie is not far off. Fava beans and spinach and arugala have made themselves available--now delighting us with their novelty and soon to challenge our creativity in preparing them in new and pleasing ways. The strawberries we graze on during our work breaks are all the more delicious because we know that in a few months they will have passed us by.
Even in this short period of time, I've found that eating more seasonally and locally heightens my interest in and understanding of both the food I'm eating and the environment that fosters it. It helps me appreciate resources that are here today and gone tomorrow. The tendency of our contemporary food system is to offer the consumer whatever he wants whenever he wants it. And while I enjoy freshly-made guacamole in December as much as anyone, I do think that we sacrifice something for this convenience. I've already written about fuel costs associated with transporting non-local and out of season crops, but I think we also lose a sense of connectedness and an appreciation of place and local cuisine. Eating seasonal, locally grown food teaches us something about where we live and may prompt us to think more deeply about climate, topography, soil, local ecosystems, and other factors. And rather than being an end in itself, this increased awareness of place can ultimately lead to more sustainable personal and public policy decisions. These are benefits for which I am willing to eat more beets than I'd normally be inclined to.
We rotate cooking in pairs for the 50-odd people involved in the program. Staples like rice, butter, and cooking oil are bought in bulk, but the majority of our produce comes directly from the farm. In April and May, that means lots of beets. A smattering of parsnips and kiwis which have also been stored through the winter. A handful of early season greens. And many, many beets.
Only in this context does the following description of group euphoria make sense. While preparing a bed for planting a few weeks ago, several apprentices chanced upon a large number of "volunteer" purple potatoes--holdovers from the previous season that had gone about proliferating. The discovery was promptly harvested, washed, and delivered to Ben and Dan, our cooks on duty. The garlic potato dish they conjured up was received with rapturous applause, and it was generally agreed that potatoes had never tasted quite so good.
As the growing season progresses, there is a wonderful and growing air of anticipation. I watch as apple blossoms fade and the fruits begin to swell, reminding me that cider and apple pie is not far off. Fava beans and spinach and arugala have made themselves available--now delighting us with their novelty and soon to challenge our creativity in preparing them in new and pleasing ways. The strawberries we graze on during our work breaks are all the more delicious because we know that in a few months they will have passed us by.
Even in this short period of time, I've found that eating more seasonally and locally heightens my interest in and understanding of both the food I'm eating and the environment that fosters it. It helps me appreciate resources that are here today and gone tomorrow. The tendency of our contemporary food system is to offer the consumer whatever he wants whenever he wants it. And while I enjoy freshly-made guacamole in December as much as anyone, I do think that we sacrifice something for this convenience. I've already written about fuel costs associated with transporting non-local and out of season crops, but I think we also lose a sense of connectedness and an appreciation of place and local cuisine. Eating seasonal, locally grown food teaches us something about where we live and may prompt us to think more deeply about climate, topography, soil, local ecosystems, and other factors. And rather than being an end in itself, this increased awareness of place can ultimately lead to more sustainable personal and public policy decisions. These are benefits for which I am willing to eat more beets than I'd normally be inclined to.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Sustainability and scale
I've really been looking forward to sharing some thoughts on Michael's question about bringing sustainable foods to a larger market because it's such an important and challenging issue. I definitely agree that making sustainably grown food available to as many people as possible is a very good thing. The proliferation of organic produce, packaged food, and consumer products at supermarkets (and even Walmart) means that millions of acres of farm land are no longer being doused with chemical fertilizers, pesticides, and fungicides. Also, as organic food becomes more mainstream, efficiencies of scale make it more affordable and less of the "food of the elite". And the simple fact that there is growing demand for and awareness of organic products is a very encouraging indicator that our society is taking issues related to food production seriously (whether individuals are motivated by social, environmental, or health issues).
And yet organic does not necessarily mean sustainable (and sustainable food is not always certified organic--a topic for another post), especially under the current federal regulations. Certified organic basically means that the food or product was made without the use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides and that no GE (genetically engineered) crops were used. Organics produced on a mass scale can be almost as unsustainable as conventionally grown crops, requiring massive amounts of energy to cultivate, harvest, cool, and transport. Large scale organic farms are still typically monocrop systems and present most of the same environmental issues that conventional agriculture does. And as organic begins to increase its market share, vendors are looking to larger farms to fill the demand. Consequently, smaller farms (which are generally more sustainable) can't compete and are forced out of business.
When we talk about the sustainability of food systems, we're looking at a number of factors. How much fossil fuel is required to grow the food, cool it, preserve it, and transport it? Are the cultivation practices contributing to soil erosion? Is crop biodiversity (and therefore food security) encouraged? Is the local community beneffiting from the presence of food production? Are food animals treated humanely? How is human health affected by heavily processed food? Is the local ecosystem negatively affected by agricultural runoff (either chemical or organic)? Does the food system result in foreign policy that is destabilizing? When all of these factors are taken into consideration, there is strong evidence to suggest that optimal sustainability in large part means moving towards food systems that are small and local.
The thorny issue remains price. Small scale and conscientious agricultural practices mean higher prices, and sustainable food systems don't currently enjoy an equal playing field in the market. While the federal government annually gives upwards of $20 billion in agricultural subsidies, organic growers are inelligible to receive such funds. Instead of trying to make sustainable food cheaper, I believe the more important task is to educate people about where their food comes from and what the ramifications of their food systems are. The more we understand and appreciate our food, the more we enjoy it, the less we waste, and the more likely we will be to spend a bit extra on food that is locally grown. Americans spend a smaller percentage of their incomes on their food than ever before, which suggests that food is currently lower on our collective priority list. A shift in priorities could have enormous positive impacts in so many facets of our society.
Of course, there will always be a percentage of the population that cannot afford to pay more for sustainable food. But if awareness continues to increase, and the connections between poor nutrition, processed foods, diabetes, childhood obesity, skyrocketing medical costs, etc. are more widely acknowledged, it is within the realm of possibility that government policy will begin to support local food.
I think that's enough for today. Thanks again, Michael, for your thoughts and questions. For those of you who are interested in this subject, I highly recommend Michael Pollan's excellent (and very enjoyable) book "The Omnivore's Dilemma". You'll definitely notice I've gleaned some of my info and ideas from him. Next week, I'm planning to write about the joys of seasonal eating. Until then, take care!
And yet organic does not necessarily mean sustainable (and sustainable food is not always certified organic--a topic for another post), especially under the current federal regulations. Certified organic basically means that the food or product was made without the use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides and that no GE (genetically engineered) crops were used. Organics produced on a mass scale can be almost as unsustainable as conventionally grown crops, requiring massive amounts of energy to cultivate, harvest, cool, and transport. Large scale organic farms are still typically monocrop systems and present most of the same environmental issues that conventional agriculture does. And as organic begins to increase its market share, vendors are looking to larger farms to fill the demand. Consequently, smaller farms (which are generally more sustainable) can't compete and are forced out of business.
When we talk about the sustainability of food systems, we're looking at a number of factors. How much fossil fuel is required to grow the food, cool it, preserve it, and transport it? Are the cultivation practices contributing to soil erosion? Is crop biodiversity (and therefore food security) encouraged? Is the local community beneffiting from the presence of food production? Are food animals treated humanely? How is human health affected by heavily processed food? Is the local ecosystem negatively affected by agricultural runoff (either chemical or organic)? Does the food system result in foreign policy that is destabilizing? When all of these factors are taken into consideration, there is strong evidence to suggest that optimal sustainability in large part means moving towards food systems that are small and local.
The thorny issue remains price. Small scale and conscientious agricultural practices mean higher prices, and sustainable food systems don't currently enjoy an equal playing field in the market. While the federal government annually gives upwards of $20 billion in agricultural subsidies, organic growers are inelligible to receive such funds. Instead of trying to make sustainable food cheaper, I believe the more important task is to educate people about where their food comes from and what the ramifications of their food systems are. The more we understand and appreciate our food, the more we enjoy it, the less we waste, and the more likely we will be to spend a bit extra on food that is locally grown. Americans spend a smaller percentage of their incomes on their food than ever before, which suggests that food is currently lower on our collective priority list. A shift in priorities could have enormous positive impacts in so many facets of our society.
Of course, there will always be a percentage of the population that cannot afford to pay more for sustainable food. But if awareness continues to increase, and the connections between poor nutrition, processed foods, diabetes, childhood obesity, skyrocketing medical costs, etc. are more widely acknowledged, it is within the realm of possibility that government policy will begin to support local food.
I think that's enough for today. Thanks again, Michael, for your thoughts and questions. For those of you who are interested in this subject, I highly recommend Michael Pollan's excellent (and very enjoyable) book "The Omnivore's Dilemma". You'll definitely notice I've gleaned some of my info and ideas from him. Next week, I'm planning to write about the joys of seasonal eating. Until then, take care!
Sunday, May 6, 2007
A further word about dead zones
My friend Lisa Walling brought up an important clarification regarding the dead zones that fertilizers contribute to creating. Aquatic life is generally not killed by fertilizer itself, but the chemicals fuel ballooning algae populations which decrease the oxygen available in the water. The enormous dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico is largely a product of fertilizer runoff from farms in the midwest. Thanks Lisa!
two approaches to soil
The past week has been a busy one at the farm and garden. Thousands of seedlings are eagerly awaiting transfer from the propagation houses to the fields, most of which we are planting by hand. Tomatoes, leeks, lettuces, potatoes, and flowers of all shapes and sizes.
I've decided to write a bit about soil health in this post because of the central role it plays in sustainable farming and gardening practices. This centrality differs from the secondary role soil generally plays within convential farming systems.
Organic farmers and gardeners sometimes say that they are, first and foremost, "growing soil". By this they are referring to the time and effort that goes into fostering soil that is rich in microbially active organic matter and that posesses a healthy structure. In an organic system, the majority of nutrients plants need to thrive are provided by the trillions of bacteria, fungi, earthworms, etc. that break down large, complex, organic molecules into smaller molecules that can be easily absorbed through the plants' root systems. Fertile soil depends on a robust and diverse population of these micro and macro organisms. In order to keep these organisms happy and productive, farmers must "feed" them with organic matter in the form of compost, manure, crop residue, etc. and ensure that there is a sufficient amount of air flow for respiration.
Plants require many nutrients to thrive, but of primary importance are nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium (the "NPK" listed on bags of fertilizer). Fertilizers are primarily used to provide these elements to plants in simple compounds they can readily absorb through their roots. This gives plants a quick boost which they utilize for rapid growth. In conventional systems, plants receive almost all of their nutrients through fertilizers (the soil having been rendered essentially sterile).
Organic matter that is broken down by soil organisms, on the other hand, releases nutrients slowly over time. There are advantages to this slower route, however. Plants need more than NPK to truly thrive, and decomposed organic matter provides the full range of micronutrients that NPK furtilizers do not. A major reason conventionally farmed crops require so many pesticides is that, even though the plants may look healthy because of their rapid NPK-induced growth, they are too weak to fight off infection because they lack a "balanced diet". NPK fertilizers can also present severe environmental and health problems. Soil can only absorb a certain amount of NPK--the rest is leached into nearby streams or ground water (leading to contamination and "dead zones" in rivers and river basins). Furthermore, the industrial process of fixing gaseous atmospheric nitrogen into a solid form plants like (such as nitrate) requires a tremendous amount of energy. A specialized bacteria that lives in the roots of legumes (beans, peas, etc.) is happy to fix atmospheric nitrogen free of charge, which is why farmers used to plant grops such as alfalfa periodically to replenish soil nitrogen levels.With the advent of chemical fertilizers, however, most conventional farmers have begun to leave their fields fallow during the winter months, which can contribute to the loss of fertile topsoil.
Another component to healthy soil develpment is regular crop rotation. Different plants have different diets, so planting a nitrogen-hungry crop (such as corn) year after year quickly depletes the soil of that nutrient and increases a farmers dependency on fertilizers. Planting the same crop repeatedly also leads to more widespread pest problems. A whole field of the same crop will attract tremendous numbers of pests and increases the chances of catastrophic crop failure. To guard against this, conventional farmers often have to rely on pesticides and fungicides or crops that are genetically engineered to resist disease. All of these recourses have dubious effects on human and environmental health, many of which are not yet fully understood.
A sustainable approach to soil development is undoubtedly more time and labor (and therefor cost) intensive. Unfortunately, many of the true costs of conventional farming are defrayed onto the broader society in the form of government subsidies to farmers, environmental degradation, and public health costs.
The feasability of sustainable agricultural practices on a broad scale is of great concern and importance, and I was delighted to receive an email from my old friend from high school Michael Dickman with the inquiry "why do “sustainable food systems” have to be on a small scale? Couldn’t we make more of a difference if we converted the mass-marketed food supply to sustainable production?" This is a great question to grapple with, and I'm looking forward to putting forth some thoughts in my next post. Until then, be well!
I've decided to write a bit about soil health in this post because of the central role it plays in sustainable farming and gardening practices. This centrality differs from the secondary role soil generally plays within convential farming systems.
Organic farmers and gardeners sometimes say that they are, first and foremost, "growing soil". By this they are referring to the time and effort that goes into fostering soil that is rich in microbially active organic matter and that posesses a healthy structure. In an organic system, the majority of nutrients plants need to thrive are provided by the trillions of bacteria, fungi, earthworms, etc. that break down large, complex, organic molecules into smaller molecules that can be easily absorbed through the plants' root systems. Fertile soil depends on a robust and diverse population of these micro and macro organisms. In order to keep these organisms happy and productive, farmers must "feed" them with organic matter in the form of compost, manure, crop residue, etc. and ensure that there is a sufficient amount of air flow for respiration.
Plants require many nutrients to thrive, but of primary importance are nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium (the "NPK" listed on bags of fertilizer). Fertilizers are primarily used to provide these elements to plants in simple compounds they can readily absorb through their roots. This gives plants a quick boost which they utilize for rapid growth. In conventional systems, plants receive almost all of their nutrients through fertilizers (the soil having been rendered essentially sterile).
Organic matter that is broken down by soil organisms, on the other hand, releases nutrients slowly over time. There are advantages to this slower route, however. Plants need more than NPK to truly thrive, and decomposed organic matter provides the full range of micronutrients that NPK furtilizers do not. A major reason conventionally farmed crops require so many pesticides is that, even though the plants may look healthy because of their rapid NPK-induced growth, they are too weak to fight off infection because they lack a "balanced diet". NPK fertilizers can also present severe environmental and health problems. Soil can only absorb a certain amount of NPK--the rest is leached into nearby streams or ground water (leading to contamination and "dead zones" in rivers and river basins). Furthermore, the industrial process of fixing gaseous atmospheric nitrogen into a solid form plants like (such as nitrate) requires a tremendous amount of energy. A specialized bacteria that lives in the roots of legumes (beans, peas, etc.) is happy to fix atmospheric nitrogen free of charge, which is why farmers used to plant grops such as alfalfa periodically to replenish soil nitrogen levels.With the advent of chemical fertilizers, however, most conventional farmers have begun to leave their fields fallow during the winter months, which can contribute to the loss of fertile topsoil.
Another component to healthy soil develpment is regular crop rotation. Different plants have different diets, so planting a nitrogen-hungry crop (such as corn) year after year quickly depletes the soil of that nutrient and increases a farmers dependency on fertilizers. Planting the same crop repeatedly also leads to more widespread pest problems. A whole field of the same crop will attract tremendous numbers of pests and increases the chances of catastrophic crop failure. To guard against this, conventional farmers often have to rely on pesticides and fungicides or crops that are genetically engineered to resist disease. All of these recourses have dubious effects on human and environmental health, many of which are not yet fully understood.
A sustainable approach to soil development is undoubtedly more time and labor (and therefor cost) intensive. Unfortunately, many of the true costs of conventional farming are defrayed onto the broader society in the form of government subsidies to farmers, environmental degradation, and public health costs.
The feasability of sustainable agricultural practices on a broad scale is of great concern and importance, and I was delighted to receive an email from my old friend from high school Michael Dickman with the inquiry "why do “sustainable food systems” have to be on a small scale? Couldn’t we make more of a difference if we converted the mass-marketed food supply to sustainable production?" This is a great question to grapple with, and I'm looking forward to putting forth some thoughts in my next post. Until then, be well!
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Inaugural post
Dear friends,
From April to October 2007, I am participating in the apprenticeship program at the UC Santa Cruz Center for Agroecology and Sustainable Food Systems. There are approximately 40 apprentices with work and study experience in fields such as education, public health, agriculture, and social organizing. Ages range from 19 to 68. We are all living and working on 10 acres of farms and gardens on the UCSC campus and learning the basic approaches and techniques of sustainable food production.
I’m usually something of a technophobe, but I’ve decided to venture into the world of blogging for the time being because I want to share some of what I’m learning and experiencing on the farm. I hope I can relate something interesting or thought provoking every so often to friends and family who might venture here. I don’t have much access to computers on the farm, so posts may be few and far between. But please feel free to add your comments or let me know if there are any particular subjects you’re interested in reading about.
I thought it might be appropriate for this first entry to mention some of the reasons why I enrolled in this program and why sustainable agriculture appeals to me as someone interested in education and community development.
• Family roots – My father grew up on a farm in Illinois that our family still owns. Learning more about how to grow crops helps me understand and appreciate our family’s history.
• Health issues – Agriculture affects our health both in terms of the nutrition of the food we’re ingesting and the positive or negative effects of our agricultural practices. For example, increased childhood obesity showcases the danger of high-sugar processed foods, just as coastal dead zones point to the hazards of the overuse of chemical fertilizers.
• Food is universal – Everyone loves food! Agriculture is common ground because we all enjoy the end product so thoroughly. As a social, political, and environmental issue, food is inclusive and pervasive.
• Shared work – I’ve been fortunate to visit small farming communities in Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Thailand, and Costa Rica. I am always struck by the strong cohesion and cooperation that exists in such communities. Small-scale farming through the apprenticeship program offers a unique opportunity to live and work closely with others in a very integrated fashion. Sharing work day after day offers its challenges, but in general I believe it leads to positive personal and social development.
• Appreciating where food comes from – Knowing more about how the food I’m eating made its way to my plate makes it all the more enjoyable. And knowing more about the difficult manual and intellectual labor that is invested in that food makes me appreciate the often underpaid workers who plan the planting season, pick cabbage, thin prunes, harvest rice, etc. No doubt about it – farming is hard work!
• Supporting traditional farming – As the world globalizes, developing countries are under tremendous economic and political pressure to find their agricultural and industrial niche. Instead of growing a diversity of crops to feed their populations, farmers increasingly grow a small number of cash crops which are exported to the world market. Lost in the process are the unique (and largely sustainable) agricultural practices, which have developed over centuries, and the rich cultural heritage connected to those practices.
• Psychological considerations – I’ve come to believe that disconnection from nature is mutually detrimental for both the environment and the human psyche and is at the root of the current ecological challenges we face. Participating in agriculture with a view towards sustainability can help reintegrate us into the complex and dynamic rhythms of the natural world and lead us to healthier, more pragmatic lifestyles.
That's all for tonight. Take care,
Chad
From April to October 2007, I am participating in the apprenticeship program at the UC Santa Cruz Center for Agroecology and Sustainable Food Systems. There are approximately 40 apprentices with work and study experience in fields such as education, public health, agriculture, and social organizing. Ages range from 19 to 68. We are all living and working on 10 acres of farms and gardens on the UCSC campus and learning the basic approaches and techniques of sustainable food production.
I’m usually something of a technophobe, but I’ve decided to venture into the world of blogging for the time being because I want to share some of what I’m learning and experiencing on the farm. I hope I can relate something interesting or thought provoking every so often to friends and family who might venture here. I don’t have much access to computers on the farm, so posts may be few and far between. But please feel free to add your comments or let me know if there are any particular subjects you’re interested in reading about.
I thought it might be appropriate for this first entry to mention some of the reasons why I enrolled in this program and why sustainable agriculture appeals to me as someone interested in education and community development.
• Family roots – My father grew up on a farm in Illinois that our family still owns. Learning more about how to grow crops helps me understand and appreciate our family’s history.
• Health issues – Agriculture affects our health both in terms of the nutrition of the food we’re ingesting and the positive or negative effects of our agricultural practices. For example, increased childhood obesity showcases the danger of high-sugar processed foods, just as coastal dead zones point to the hazards of the overuse of chemical fertilizers.
• Food is universal – Everyone loves food! Agriculture is common ground because we all enjoy the end product so thoroughly. As a social, political, and environmental issue, food is inclusive and pervasive.
• Shared work – I’ve been fortunate to visit small farming communities in Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Thailand, and Costa Rica. I am always struck by the strong cohesion and cooperation that exists in such communities. Small-scale farming through the apprenticeship program offers a unique opportunity to live and work closely with others in a very integrated fashion. Sharing work day after day offers its challenges, but in general I believe it leads to positive personal and social development.
• Appreciating where food comes from – Knowing more about how the food I’m eating made its way to my plate makes it all the more enjoyable. And knowing more about the difficult manual and intellectual labor that is invested in that food makes me appreciate the often underpaid workers who plan the planting season, pick cabbage, thin prunes, harvest rice, etc. No doubt about it – farming is hard work!
• Supporting traditional farming – As the world globalizes, developing countries are under tremendous economic and political pressure to find their agricultural and industrial niche. Instead of growing a diversity of crops to feed their populations, farmers increasingly grow a small number of cash crops which are exported to the world market. Lost in the process are the unique (and largely sustainable) agricultural practices, which have developed over centuries, and the rich cultural heritage connected to those practices.
• Psychological considerations – I’ve come to believe that disconnection from nature is mutually detrimental for both the environment and the human psyche and is at the root of the current ecological challenges we face. Participating in agriculture with a view towards sustainability can help reintegrate us into the complex and dynamic rhythms of the natural world and lead us to healthier, more pragmatic lifestyles.
That's all for tonight. Take care,
Chad
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)