What Happened in 2016? Part 1: Where to Go From Here? Draper Farm and Eco-Farm Conference
Well, here we are. It is July 2017. From all outward appearances, my forays
into the world of organic, sustainable gardening and farming have gone kaput. I
didn't really post anything here all last year, except a summary of the
permaculture program that I completed the year prior.
Tap, tap. Is this thing still on?
Well friends and blog reader(s), the answer is yes! Don't be deceived by what you don't see. The truth is, I did a lot of agricultural-ish stuff in 2016, guided mostly by the question of “What and where should I do and go next?”
After completing the permaculture program at RDI, I was hanging out in Selmo without a real project. We were renting and didn’t have tons of outside space, and truth be told, I was feeling tired of building gardens in places that I would leave behind. It was nice to pass them on to the next person, but I wanted to sink my teeth in more, set up water catchment, turn the plumbing into grey water, sheet mulch and plant cover crops, instead of just go to the hardware store, buy a bag of potting soil and fill up yet another garden box that we built out of god-knows-what (more on that later).
So, I got some worms and instead spent time over at Draper Farm, which was incredibly only 3 houses away from our place, and volunteered at their work days, which happened every now and then. Not as much as I wanted, honestly.
Draper Farm really intrigued me. It sits on a small, one-acre parcel nestled in the back of a suburban neighborhood, owned and operated by long-time residents, Jerry and Mea Draper. It is essentially a U-pick/CSA combo, where after a brief orientation and tour, you become a member (for free), and go pick produce whenever you want. (According to Jerry, he’s seen folks picking at night with flashlights, just dying for a fresh basil and tomato salad after dark.) It operates on the honor system. The bulk/rest of the produce is sold to nearby restaurants. Jerry and Mea still have day jobs, but doesn’t that sound like what every neighborhood needs? A local, certified-organic farm and a farmer with an open-gate policy who might just be singing on his porch with his guitar when you walk over there to ogle the chickens with your kid?
In addition to ogling, I was also busy taking stock: 41 years old, mom of a 3-year-old, living in one of the most expensive places in the country, trying to figure out how to juggle (afford) it all. My life, the place where I grew up, and the world were all very different from when I first set out on my chosen career path of writing and teaching. So now what?
Should we move somewhere cheaper, buy a piece of land and get down to business? What kind of business? Should we become neighborhood farmers, like over at Draper? Cut our living costs in half and join a permaculture community in Iowa? (This one was a bit of a stretch, but we were open to suggestions. Plus, my mom's family is from the same state, so I made up a story about how this would be reconnecting with my roots, a merging, a return. I researched my ancestry. I was searching.)
Like the nerdy little researcher that I am, I gave myself homework. I loved the idea of a neighborhood farm--it was beautiful and also made so much sense, but imagining myself into the day-to-day existence of small-scale farm life, when I really got down to it, was feeling awfully vague. Sure, I'd read books and listened to podcasts, but apart from the various people I'd met while visiting farms (click on the tags over on the right) and my new friend Jerry, I didn't really know a single farmer. And I had no idea what a business model like this really entailed. Just what exactly was needed and involved in this kind of operation? This kind of lifestyle?
So, you can imagine my joy when I discovered that the annual Eco Farm conference at Asilomar was coming up soon and just a two-and-a-half hour drive from my house. Two whole days of listening to farmers talk to other farmers about sustainable practices, money, and business. Sign me up!
The conference was big and legit, and since clearly I am not a farmer, I mostly just went as a spy. I spent a lot my time attending talks about the business of farming. As an English major with a Master's in Creative Writing, I have never made career or life choices based on money or anything very practical for that matter, so this was a new approach. Apparently, having a cute little three-year-old mouth to feed changes things. I was out for logistical information and details. Like how much do small-scale farmers actually make each year? What makes up the bulk of their income? What takes up the bulk of their time? Also of interest were things like: What time do you get up? Go to bed? What does your kid do all day? And so on.
I went to talks about No-Till Farming and CSA’s from Singing Frog Farms, For-Profit Urban Farming with Willow Rosenthal, Creating Regional Food Systems with Jean-Martin Fortier, Business Brands with Bi-Rite, Empowering Women Farmers by Lisa Kivirist, Farmacology by Daphne Miller, Successful Practices from nearby Viriditas Farm, Fifth Crow Farm, and Fresh Run Farms, Business Scale from Lakeside Organics. If none of these names ring a bell, this is the real deal Holyfield of organic farming and related ideas.
Asilomar is right on the coast, and the conference spilled out onto the beach at the end of each day. I left feeling inspired and more than a little horrified at how little we expect to pay for the amount of work that goes into producing food. Make no mistake about it: farmers everywhere are subsidizing what goes on everyone's plates with their livelihoods.
And the work coupled with risk is incredible. Farming is long, hard days, with so much completely out of your control. I know, so much in our lives always is, but I'm not as risky as I used to be. (See the part above about the cute three-year-old.) How to mitigate the crop and weather risk? Which really is the financial risk? That wasn't really meeting my new attempt to be practical. I already chose one career path that earned peanuts. How could I justify choosing another?
I mulled all this over as my daughter and her dad came down to Monterey and we toured the Aquarium. What kind of life would make the most sense for us, given the crazy state of the world and climate we now live in? How can we raise our daughter with the skills she needs to survive such an uncertain future and also work to be part of the solution to today’s most pressing environmental problems? How could we possibly afford moving in an agricultural direction while trying to stay close to family in the over-priced Bay Area?
This quote came to mind.
This practical thing was turning out to be harder than I thought.
And I still needed answers to all kinds of things. Not to mention, regular hands-on time, which was hard carve out during busy semesters reading endless stacks of essays.
And what about Iowa? Part 2 to follow....
Tap, tap. Is this thing still on?
Well friends and blog reader(s), the answer is yes! Don't be deceived by what you don't see. The truth is, I did a lot of agricultural-ish stuff in 2016, guided mostly by the question of “What and where should I do and go next?”
After completing the permaculture program at RDI, I was hanging out in Selmo without a real project. We were renting and didn’t have tons of outside space, and truth be told, I was feeling tired of building gardens in places that I would leave behind. It was nice to pass them on to the next person, but I wanted to sink my teeth in more, set up water catchment, turn the plumbing into grey water, sheet mulch and plant cover crops, instead of just go to the hardware store, buy a bag of potting soil and fill up yet another garden box that we built out of god-knows-what (more on that later).
So, I got some worms and instead spent time over at Draper Farm, which was incredibly only 3 houses away from our place, and volunteered at their work days, which happened every now and then. Not as much as I wanted, honestly.
Draper Farm really intrigued me. It sits on a small, one-acre parcel nestled in the back of a suburban neighborhood, owned and operated by long-time residents, Jerry and Mea Draper. It is essentially a U-pick/CSA combo, where after a brief orientation and tour, you become a member (for free), and go pick produce whenever you want. (According to Jerry, he’s seen folks picking at night with flashlights, just dying for a fresh basil and tomato salad after dark.) It operates on the honor system. The bulk/rest of the produce is sold to nearby restaurants. Jerry and Mea still have day jobs, but doesn’t that sound like what every neighborhood needs? A local, certified-organic farm and a farmer with an open-gate policy who might just be singing on his porch with his guitar when you walk over there to ogle the chickens with your kid?
 |
| Jerry during a volunteer day |
 |
| Roughly one acre |
 |
| Gotta have it |
 |
| The chicks |
In addition to ogling, I was also busy taking stock: 41 years old, mom of a 3-year-old, living in one of the most expensive places in the country, trying to figure out how to juggle (afford) it all. My life, the place where I grew up, and the world were all very different from when I first set out on my chosen career path of writing and teaching. So now what?
Should we move somewhere cheaper, buy a piece of land and get down to business? What kind of business? Should we become neighborhood farmers, like over at Draper? Cut our living costs in half and join a permaculture community in Iowa? (This one was a bit of a stretch, but we were open to suggestions. Plus, my mom's family is from the same state, so I made up a story about how this would be reconnecting with my roots, a merging, a return. I researched my ancestry. I was searching.)
Like the nerdy little researcher that I am, I gave myself homework. I loved the idea of a neighborhood farm--it was beautiful and also made so much sense, but imagining myself into the day-to-day existence of small-scale farm life, when I really got down to it, was feeling awfully vague. Sure, I'd read books and listened to podcasts, but apart from the various people I'd met while visiting farms (click on the tags over on the right) and my new friend Jerry, I didn't really know a single farmer. And I had no idea what a business model like this really entailed. Just what exactly was needed and involved in this kind of operation? This kind of lifestyle?
So, you can imagine my joy when I discovered that the annual Eco Farm conference at Asilomar was coming up soon and just a two-and-a-half hour drive from my house. Two whole days of listening to farmers talk to other farmers about sustainable practices, money, and business. Sign me up!
The conference was big and legit, and since clearly I am not a farmer, I mostly just went as a spy. I spent a lot my time attending talks about the business of farming. As an English major with a Master's in Creative Writing, I have never made career or life choices based on money or anything very practical for that matter, so this was a new approach. Apparently, having a cute little three-year-old mouth to feed changes things. I was out for logistical information and details. Like how much do small-scale farmers actually make each year? What makes up the bulk of their income? What takes up the bulk of their time? Also of interest were things like: What time do you get up? Go to bed? What does your kid do all day? And so on.
I went to talks about No-Till Farming and CSA’s from Singing Frog Farms, For-Profit Urban Farming with Willow Rosenthal, Creating Regional Food Systems with Jean-Martin Fortier, Business Brands with Bi-Rite, Empowering Women Farmers by Lisa Kivirist, Farmacology by Daphne Miller, Successful Practices from nearby Viriditas Farm, Fifth Crow Farm, and Fresh Run Farms, Business Scale from Lakeside Organics. If none of these names ring a bell, this is the real deal Holyfield of organic farming and related ideas.
 |
| Slide of practical stuff, like numbers |
Asilomar is right on the coast, and the conference spilled out onto the beach at the end of each day. I left feeling inspired and more than a little horrified at how little we expect to pay for the amount of work that goes into producing food. Make no mistake about it: farmers everywhere are subsidizing what goes on everyone's plates with their livelihoods.
 |
| Taking it all in |
And the work coupled with risk is incredible. Farming is long, hard days, with so much completely out of your control. I know, so much in our lives always is, but I'm not as risky as I used to be. (See the part above about the cute three-year-old.) How to mitigate the crop and weather risk? Which really is the financial risk? That wasn't really meeting my new attempt to be practical. I already chose one career path that earned peanuts. How could I justify choosing another?
I mulled all this over as my daughter and her dad came down to Monterey and we toured the Aquarium. What kind of life would make the most sense for us, given the crazy state of the world and climate we now live in? How can we raise our daughter with the skills she needs to survive such an uncertain future and also work to be part of the solution to today’s most pressing environmental problems? How could we possibly afford moving in an agricultural direction while trying to stay close to family in the over-priced Bay Area?
 |
| Jellyfish, not worried about any of these things |
This quote came to mind.
This practical thing was turning out to be harder than I thought.
And I still needed answers to all kinds of things. Not to mention, regular hands-on time, which was hard carve out during busy semesters reading endless stacks of essays.
And what about Iowa? Part 2 to follow....
This is so familiar to me. I even went to Eco Farm a few years ago to listen in and find those elusive practical solutions. Sadly, I don't have it figured out yet. I'm so curious to hear part 2!
ReplyDeleteSpoiler alert: I don't have it all figured out yet either! Why does this take so long ;)? It's a comfort to hear I am not the only one thinking about and doing all this. Thank you for mentioning that to me.
ReplyDelete