We try. But I won’t declare that we do the best job of caring for our land. You see, I know where the bodies are buried: the troublesome bits of erosion, the areas of overuse, diseased trees, and neglected infrastructure. Yet, I won’t underestimate our hard work and successes at stewarding this small farm of seventy acres, a stewardship that, hopefully, leaves the land, upon our departure, in better shape than when we took up this way of life.
Nonetheless, we are both aware of the potential futility of these efforts in a world overburdened by population, climate change, resource depletion, and the general collapse of good behavior. Even as I type these words I can view the neighboring hills, a mile in distance, denuded of trees from a poorly executed clearcut, a process that is repeated up and down our small valley.
At times our farm seems an island in a sea of abuse. Small farms or small land ownership is no more immune to poor practice than large farms and tracts of land. Perhaps the small farm has a bit more flexibility; it is closer to the root of a problem and so can respond in real time. Like a small motor boat compared to an ocean liner, it is more maneuverable. But it is no nobler, for its small size.
Orwell, in his book, The Road to Wigan Pier, makes a reference to small landlords being worse than a large landlord, based on their limited resources to improve their investments. Similarly, the small farm is just as subject to those market forces, the same drive to wring every bit of profit from the resources at hand, as the large farm. A sad play that has us repeating our role in the original sin, where we short the future for a bite of an apple today.
That all leaves me, looking from my window on this Sunday, thinking that this island, which is our farm, is already being lapped by those rising waters of our future.
Yet, we make our small efforts to stake a claim to an imaginable future that has room for well cared for small farms, families, and community on a healthy planet. To that end we gathered last night with other area small farmers for an evening of fellowship, food, and conversation. To that end, today, we plant a new vineyard of wine grapes. And, to that end, our sow, Delores, farrowed last night.
To that end, that is the present and future as best as we can manage, for today.
I was thinking of writing a post about undisturbed beauty (i.e., natural landscapes) and concluding that none exist now that we’ve altered everything, however minutely or microscopically. It would have been the same argument used by Bill McKibben in The End of Nature. But I demurred with the additional recognition that to live and breathe is so have its inevitable effects no matter what our enlightened stewardship might intend. Your post reflects some resignation that human life, like most other forms of life, is predicated on the use and/or exploitation of resources and no small amounts of death and destruction. Things may have run amok a little quicker via the profit motive than they would have with a thoroughgoing pastoral outlook, but our sheer profligacy points to the same destination. I admire your circumspection and can only imagine what your frequent evenings of fellowship, food, and conversation among your neighbors must be like.
Brutus,
Agreed. Although, I guess the timescale of dramatic global climate change would be much slower if the fossil fuel revolution had never taken place, if at all. Which amounts to a debate about the number of angels on the head of a pin.
If you ever make it down to Tennessee we will let you participate in those convivial evenings.
Good to hear from you.
Cheers,
Brian
I am a new follower and glad I found you. My grandparents and great grandparents were small farm farmers in Nebraska. Some part of what you write echoes in my bones. It is hard to be a good steward of even back yards and front yards these days although I have a patch of cleomes in the front that hum with bees all summer. My neighbors look askance but in this dry Boulder climate I don’t take the fall leaves off the ground until spring. It helps the ground hold just a little more moisture through the winter. I temper my own heartbreak over the environment and climate change by taking small actions every day to help. Look forward to your next post. Dhyan
Dhyan,
Thanks for commenting on this humble blog. Yep, I think back with some embarrassment about my lack of care re: backyards in my past. But I guess we have a chance at redemption. So, onto our grand plans for the coming year! I think keeping the cover on the ground until needed is a smart idea. Raking leaves seems to be a bit of a mania. I’m all for letting them compost in place.
My best,
Brian
I think its even more complex than this. And because the complexity of it yet eludes all the incredible resources we might bring to the analysis I find some remaining modicum of hope.
A clear cut is a pretty ugly sight. And I feel badly you have one in clear view. And in no way will I gladly suffer an accusation that I would condone such behavior, but I will offer that in time the earth will heal this insult. It may not be within a fair time for your witnessing the scene – we each have our short run here to enjoy what we might. But in a human generation that same clear cut – if it suffers no further insult at the hand of man – will regrow, animals will return, and some future inhabitant of your small farm may enjoy a wholly different vista.
By this same reasoning I think it does a bit of harm to the spirit to imagine the smaller insults we ourselves impart by accident or by way of ignorance or naiveté. Learning by our mistakes is a very natural part of being. It is only a bad thing if we ignore our mistakes and press on to despoil in disregard. And another may reasonably argue that so much is already known by experience of our forebears, and by crafts folk more experienced in a particular activity than we that there is little room for the excuse of ignorance. Indeed ignorance of the law is no excuse. But excuses are like – well you know the rest of that. The mere fact we might go wide of an intended outcome is no justification for not trying in the first place. Intent may not fix the fence – but indifference surely won’t either.
So from whence springs this modicum of hope I mentioned above? From many fronts. From sharing stories like yours where concern and magnificent intent is apparent. From impressive results passed down to us from our forebears. Not all acts of human endeavor are ugly and destructive. We are capable. We need to keep plugging along, learning, loving, and making our case. If within the remaining years I have left to live on this planet there should come some ugly end like Brutus suggests I’ll be sad for it – but I will at least have the consolation that I’ve tried to prevent it. Doing nothing seems a waste and a betrayal of the better Angels of our nature.
And Delores – how did she do?
Clem,
Thanks for the thoughtful response. I share part of your outlook, the consolation of living your life to make that difference. But I draw a different conclusion from the complexity of this civilization than you do. This difference may stem from our backgrounds: science vs. history. I tend to see complex societies, while providing some resilience in the short-term, ultimately being too complex to innovate on the scale needed.
As for Delores, she had a small but healthy litter of five piglets. Four of which had the distinctive markings of the Hampshire father. They all seem well and nursing. She has been a receptive first time mother. So overall not a bad deal, that purchase.
Hope all is well, otherwise. The rain moved back in here soon after posting. So I never did get around to planting those wine vines.
Cheers,
Brian
Great post, “Similarly, the small farm is just as subject to those market forces, the same drive to wring every bit of profit from the resources at hand, as the large farm. ” Can’t agree more (have been a small farmer myself) – BUT it is an important qualification that it is the market forces that impose this logic onto the small farms. And the same forces are ultimately favoring BIG whether it is retailing, farming or data mining. We see that the best farms are small ones farming for lifestyle or rich guys farming for an idea. So the real culprit is the market, or the imperatives of the market – competition and profit seeking come to mind.
Gunnar,
Glad you liked the short piece. I absolutely agree on that qualification regarding the market forces. Did not mean to leave any doubt as to which side I came down on. BTW Enjoyed your Garden Earth book and website.
Cheers,
Brian
Thanks Brian, I have just published another one, even more focused on food and farming, Global Eating Disorder, http://gardenearth.blogspot.se/2014/11/we-can-no-longer-afford-cheap-food.html
Thanks, I’ll check it out.