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| Spring/Summer 2011 |
It’s official – i quit my “day job,” and it feels amazing. This was far from a knee-jerk decision, but one that Sarah and i arrived to after many bottles of wine, and some mind-bending financial consideration. The goal: create more space in our life to clear the path towards full-time farming; some good old fashion forward momentum. The tepid irony of our wanting to buy land while at the same time relinquishing an income, is admittedly a very tender point of terror. We are pleased with the choice – but it does feel counter-intuitive. Though Sarah’s job pays the proverbial bill, time and again it seems that we just simply need a huge stack of cash to close the deal on any farm property. For those of you out there who are looking for good, irrigated farmland in Oregon, this might be old news. It’s either too much property and not enough house (which is dead on arrival at the lender) or too much house, and not enough property (we don’t want to pay for some five bedroom monstrosity – we’d gladly live in a tent, if it meant we could afford the right piece of land).
Now, we’re going on four years of searching, and sometimes it is difficult not to *sigh* wonder aloud what we could afford for the same money in, say, Kentucky. Or Idaho. Or Wisconsin. For people who really want to build a family-farm in Oregon, the comparison is sickly silly, and arguably not worth the emotional roller-coaster. But on particularly difficult days, it’s a suprisingly liberating exercise. When we feel that the relentless emphasis of future goals begins to cloud our ability to feel grateful for our good fortune now, in the moment, we must remind ourselves that we are free, and that there are many paths to contentment.
We want to farm. More to the point: we want to feed ourselves and our community with wholesome, simple food from land where richness increases with time and care. To this end, we’ve been thinking a lot about ownership. In a cosmic sense, we pass through life never really owning anything. There is nothing to take to the other side. But one cerebral level closer to the ground, we cannot ignore the feeling of needing solid roots in a place – not necessarily so that we can call it our “own” (b/c it takes a community to raise a farm), and definitely not because we want to make a million in 30 years by selling.
I think, but i’m not sure, that our burning need for ownership stems from a great desire for efficiency, both in the human (imposed) and ecological systems of our livelihood. To me, efficiency means avoiding wasted energy as a guiding principle of design, even if it means doing nothing by default. From the flex of muscles, to the ions in a bar of steel, to a glowing handful of carrots, these forces demand a moment of recognition and respect. Healthy, simple, thoughtful design, durable materials, low-input operation and honest practicality define human systems that make me happy. Regeneration, diversity, beauty, richness, and vibrancy are ecological traits that make me feel wealthy. The dynamic “agricultural” interface between the two – where we observe, impose, extract, and replenish energy is a place/an attitude/a lifestyle/a reality that holds infinite opportunity for innovation, inspiration, and bounty. And i feel this role to be a lifelong practice, and one that only becomes more nuanced, more finely tuned – maybe easier – the longer we see ourselves living integrally, knowing that our health is dependent upon and essential to the health of our land. Farming on two rented acres for the last few years, has provided me insight into what it feels like to live with inefficiency. With the sense of limited tenancy (anything less than a lifetime), we find it disheartening to invest in systems that are site specific, and resource intensive. And so, we continue to look for something to call, “our own.” Somewhere to be all in; cash poor, land rich, life bubbling up between the fence lines.
So what are you doing now? …one might ask. Well, besides nurturing my culinary side, doing laundry, joyously tending our 2 acre lot, and generally being Sarah’s support team, i’ve been spending a lot of time researching properties, visiting properties, making offers on properties, and researching some more. We are fully committed to manifesting our agricultural vision, but not so committed that we don’t pause to embrace our good fortune, share some meals with friends, and to enjoy this miraculous Oregon summer. All in all, its been another wonderful year on the farm. If you’re still out there, thanks for the continued support, and please check out the pictures.
Your Farmers,
Conner and Sarah
