Volunteer Project
It’s approaching the two year anniversary since I began volunteering on Nancy Bentley’s farm, Fair Weather Farm. When I visited her recently, we spent some time reflecting on all that time.
My work for Nancy began as I was beginning to explore my more agrarian mannerisms. A passion for farming, at any level, was something I gave little attention to , and value on, in my life. Rarely, if ever, did it occur to me the laborious work people like Nancy put into their place, amidst the tumult of unpredictable weather and unresponsive growth in her plants. I was a nascent thinker, caught in between the trap of expediently searching for my life’s grander purpose all the while fretting over every decision I made. It was not a fun place to be. Not only was the stress peaking higher every subsequent week, but the plans I had conjured up in my mind were never the plans that filled me with excitement. It all felt as though I was walking through a maze with a blindfold, unable to capture any view of the right path.
So I went back out to Nancy’s farm to remind myself of those feelings that swelled up when I initially made the trip. Before, Nancy’s farm was only a few rows of tomatoes and greens, a small operation with aspirations that I thought were beyond the scope of possible, at least to the extent that it would take a grueling amount of time and effort to accomplish what wanted to be done. Nancy, when I first talked to her, wanted apple trees and beehives and more crops to plant in the soil. She had plants for a few more high tunnels, which would bolster her output and stimulate a local community of foodies and organic lovers in need of her product. But that was years ago (literally), and it seemed to me that this wouldn’t be done as easily as it sounded.
Yet, I found myself smiling around every corner I turned, grinning at every pasture I was introduced to, as Nancy took me around the farm. It indeed had grown and blossomed, somewhere in the middle of her most ideal dreams and her desire to keep building. She had added that high tunnel she talked about, growing a trove of new crops. Radishes daikon, and their corresponding bloom of leaves that would add flavor and heartiness to any salad were all flourishing. She took me into this dome to show me the burgeoning plants, which, 6 weeks after taking root, had reached heights that even Nancy was surprised to see. It felt like a dream in some ways — Nancy’s plate now overflowing with a splendor of vegetables, the growth and viability of her farm better than ever. Elated and ready, I put on my gloves and began to work.
There’s a rich, old tale that farmers tell all of their helping hands: 80% of all farming is weeding. Pesty stalks spiking out their needles saturated her fields, and in order to reach down to the plants we wanted to harvest, we had to remove the buggers. Enough though one might find this line of working painstakingly bland, the contribution made by doing this is rewarded in ways unseen at the macro level. Removing weeds and invasive plants will allow for sunlight to directly hit and nourish the crops, and the available nitrogen in the soil will have have less competition. These plants will soak it up without the need to fight for it, increasing their growth potential, all the while creating a more round, voluptuous product. And time spent in nature, irrespective of task, has direct and measurable benefits to us humans as well.
In the Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, a study showed that just hearing the sounds of natural phenomenons, including the chatter of birds and the dimmed hollow of a midday breeze, reduce stress levels more than the noisy urban environments we often find ourselves immersed in. An article in the January 2016 National Geographic magazine validates this idea, saying that the time we spent outside — whether it be a short walk in the woods or an extended trip — will produce a positive effect in our qualitative thinking, relaxing the frequently overused prefrontal cortex (PFC), which guides many of our higher level cognitive processes. In turn, the detoxifying effect nature can have on our thought process allows for more mobility of the mind; instead of thinking and needlessly worrying about the future, we can step back, relax, and observe the larger picture as a whole.
Perhaps that’s why I came back after my first time out on her farm. Perhaps that explains the hours I spent helped her with weeding, harvesting, fencing, and such. I don’t mean to be self-congratulatory, but I do believe that any amount of work for a farm can be impactful. Nancy’s operation is small, and being the main proprietor of all functions, there simply is more to be done than she is able to do. So myself and the other students who made the weekly trip to Fair Weather over the years were greeted with a grateful farmer whose work livens a community. For me, this work has not only filled my soul with the sweet smells of pastoral life, it has given me a sense of purpose. I have grown, much like the radishes, more fully and complete.
