In the past year, I’ve been thinking quite often about why I do this work. At some point, I realized that since I don’t talk about it, people might not know much about my motivations. I’m guessing farmers’ motivations vary about as much as the motivations of people in any profession, but for some reason I feel rather misunderstood at times.
More on that below, but first, along these lines, it occured to me that if people misunderstand my motivation, perhaps I’m misunderstanding my customers’ motivations . . . and if I knew more about why they fork over hundreds of dollars for CSA shares every year, it might help me be a better farmer.
Each fall I survey Stone’s Throw Farm members, and though one farm member asked me this year if I’ve ever considered skipping the survey, I think it’s important. For one thing, I want my customers to know that I care about their opinions and take their feedback seriously. For another thing, there’s always one or two survey results that I find surprising. (Who would have guessed people want more green beans than they received last season? Not me.)
My farm members usually are pretty good about taking surveys; last fall I got 31 responses, out of 45 shares (75 households). Though not as good as in previous years, it wasn’t a bad response rate (thanks, guys). Anyway, when asked about the benefits of Community Supported Agriculture, 100% of respondents rated “I know the vegetables are truly fresh & organic” as “very important.” No surprise.
This is what they want: good food. I can do that.
The fact that I can grow good food may seem unremarkable, but it’s not something I take lightly, and gets me back to my original point. I was struck by something I read in Utne Reader recently regarding our nostalgic notions about farming:
When was the last time you met someone who actually wanted to grow corn, beets, beans, or pumpkins? . . . Who among you wants to be up from dawn to dusk, at the mercy of Earth’s natural systems, living on faith amongst secular technologies, covered in mud all the time, no time for art, music, or self-expression?”
–Darren Fleet, “Gardening Beyond Reason,” originally published in Adbusters
After reading this passage, I felt a surge of emotion that stopped me in my tracks, so to speak. (The point Mr. Fleet was making is that farming isn’t valued even though it’s absolutely necessary for our survival, but I won’t get into that here except to say that I was warned early on to not, under any circumstances, figure out how much money I’m making per hour [not exactly a living wage].) My response was, “That’s me. I want to do that.”
The main reason I took up farming is that I like the work. I like being outside all the time for 7 months of the year; I like working with plants and animals more than working with people; I like the physical challenges and that fact that I’m asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow at the end of the day; I like the mental challenges (yes, it does require a brain, though I didn’t really understand that until I started doing it, so I can almost forgive those who think a smart monkey could do my job); I like that this type of farming requires skills that I naturally possess. I accept the fact that I can’t control nature, only admire it and treat it with respect; and while I wouldn’t say that I like being covered in mud, I’d much rather be dirty all the time than wear a business suit to work every day.
The fact that I’m producing healthful food that people want to buy is, while necessary (since I couldn’t afford to work for free), really just a bonus for me. The fact that sustainable agriculture is good for the environment and necessary for our continued survival on this earth is just a bonus. The fact that my customers are wonderful people is just a bonus. The fact that CSA builds community among consumers is just a bonus. The fact that my work provides me and my family with good food is, in all honesty, just a bonus, too. I’m really not that much of a cook.
I do it because I like it out there in the field. I imagine plenty of other farmers feel the same way, but I just wanted to speak for myself.
Stone's Throw Farm 
How wonderful to have a job that you WANT to do, with all the side significant bonuses. Many of us who get our food from a CSA feel that what our farmers are doing is essential to our well-being and the heath of the planet, so your bonus may be our main reason we believe in CSA. And it’s good to know that there are HAPPY FARMERS out there. Happy farmers mean happy, nutritious plants, which mean happy, healthy customers!
Thanks to you and all CSA farmers!
“Right on,” Joan. The beauty of it is, it probably doesn’t matter to most of my farm members why I’m doing this, as long as they get what they’re looking for out of the deal. And as long as they’re happy and keep buying shares, I get to keep what doing what I love, so the thanks go both ways.
Looking back on my survey, I couldn’t help but notice how UNscientific it was — multiple choice of course being very suggestive (though I did offer an “other” category with open-ended comments), and who is to say if the “fresh” or “organic” was more important to respondents, or whether they want organic because it’s healthier for their bodies or for the rest of the environment? Oh well; I tried.
Also, I should urge everyone to read the full article in Utne that I mentioned (Nov/Dec 2012), because it’s brilliant and emphasizes gardening not for any of the reasons I mentioned, really — more for the sake of one’s own humanity or soul . . . just read it; I won’t attempt to paraphrase. I’m happy to send a copy to anyone who can’t locate one.
Your description of why you farm reminds me so much of my uncle Dale. In the summers when I was there, at the end of the day he would get in his truck and drive through the pasture counting his calves. It was always about twilight, which in this part of North Dakota was likely to be close to 10:00 pm.
His father farmed this land before him, and he took up the land after his father, suffering through the 20s and 30s, when, as he said, they often couldn’t find the money for a three cent stamp.
But as he drove through his pasture, his love for the land was clear, and this was one daily task that he took great pleasure in. Even as a kid, I recognized it. He often chewed on a piece of grass, and he usually whistled a non-tune array of notes. There was a purpose to the drive, but it also very much served as an acknowledgment that “all’s right with the world.”
In all the times I counted calves with him, we never found a sick or missing one, although once in a while one was hard to find. We sometimes drove through buckbrush tall enough to reach the open window. Once off the truck trail, the badger holes and rocks were impossible to see. Somehow he knew where all the boulders were in that brush, and would swerve right or left to miss what I couldn’t see hidden underneath even as we drove by.
Connection to the land is hard to describe, especially for those who haven’t spent much time covered with dirt. Now I can put your story of why you farm right up there with my memories of Dale.
Beautifully said! Thank you – more words than I’ve ever heard you string together in one moment – but I love it! It’s good to know a bit more about who you are in your work.
Love, Nina
“Human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.
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It’s big fun learning/reading about others who are as completely given over to farming as I am. all the best.