So much of what goes through my mind - whether at home, work, or on the farm, is "How do I make this easier? What am I missing?" When I think about a new job and the struggles, and excitement of it all, it makes a perfect metaphor for the type of farming I hope to do. Starting a new job, you hopefully bring a set of skills to the position, but not always the sense of rhythm, culture of place, details and nuances of the specific work. You have to travel the course of the work to get to know it. It's so much easier when the people around you help, when the person before you is there to teach and instruct, when you have something to work off of.
When we think about farming - about feeding billions of people - not just calories, but soul and spirit, it's awfully hard to go it alone. We have extension offices, con-agra, sometimes an uncle or grandmother, Land Grant Universities, so much. What we forget is that we have the land itself. Farming is so much about one place - about the micro-climates and soil of that place. Models built off of Iowa loam or a Mediterranean climate work there! But not here.
Let me give an example. Pastured poultry is an incredible movement. The chance for a humane, chicken being a chicken existence, for poultry is long overdue. But it won't work on this hillside without me eradicating the soul of the place. And while it's extreme to think of farming anything here, I venture it was as extreme when the first person decided to plant a tomato in Toronto. How do we farm anyplace well? And by well I mean, how do we reclaim that sense of place (or preserve it)? How do we engage the indigenous knowledge inherent in the land and previous generations of inhabitants?
If we're going to feed billions of people and retain our soul we'll have to answer these questions and answer them well, and in a hurry.