Episodes
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Hello and welcome to Scrap Farm, the newsletter/podcast where I document starting an agroecological farm in Michigan. If you’re new here or are not sure if this is something you would be interested in, then here’s a rundown of some things I have talked about over the past year or so:
* The UK VISA process and our unsuccessful attempt to move to the UK
* The death of a mentor
* Burnout and coopratition (cooperation + competition)
* Petro-masculinity
* Settler colonialism
And so much more. All wrapped up in the package of small scale vegetable farming, seed keeping and climate collapse.
Sounds like a laugh-a-minute, doesn’t it?
No, but actually, it’s not all doom and gloom, despite my best intentions (and the attentions of global oligarchy). I promise it’s more fun than all that. We have carrots!
Also, speaking of sound, it has come to my attention that my recordings have been, for some unknown reason, at double speed sometimes. Lightening-fast renditions of reading this out. Thank you to the people who pointed this out; it takes all your ears to pick up on weird technical things. I am now endeavouring to record on a real microphone. Not just my phone. Thanks too to my partner for letting me borrow his.
More housekeeping: I have been mulling over how best to organise this. If you have been with me for a while (you brave soul), you might remember that I had future farm updates and current farm updates as my partner and I managed a farm and planned for a farm and tried to move countries.
The fantastic news is that the Future Farm has become the Present Farm. The Farm!
So, I’m going to be reordering my updates/episodes to account for this.
I’m thinking I will begin by yapping about my personal life and the crumbling economy and then will give updates about the farm as it happens.
I’m working on once a fortnight for the updates. At this time of year, I have plenty of time, but later, I will be swamped with part-time work and running a farm in the middle of the season. I wanted to build in the leeway I might need now. Basically what I’m doing now.
Ok, so. Personal life updates: I have been very brave this week (said only partially sarcastically) and called both senators and my local rep about the deportation of Venezuelan immigrants by the US. Trump invoked wartime powers in peacetime to unlawfully detain and deport 261 Venezuelan citizens for no damn reasons. I used a script from 5 Calls, and my heart beat so fast, which is kinda embarrassing, but I’m going to keep calling. Apparently every call counts as 2000 people who care about an issue and is one way to get your elected officials to maybe do something. Also, my partner pointed out that it’s very interesting that Gen-Z and laaate millennials (like myself) are so afraid of phone calls but that’s what politicians actually pay attention to. What a convenient way to ignore the younger generation.
And before anyone gets on me, this is not the only thing you can do to stop the polycrisis. It’s certainly not the only thing I’m doing. Yes, we need a complete overhaul of how we live, but I can still poke at those currently in power while working to improve the local system and resisting in less structured ways.
I also believe this issue is more prescient than ever after the spiriting away and detainment of Mahmoud Khalil earlier this month and the arrest of PhD student Rumeysa Ozturk earlier this week. If anyone can be rounded up and threatened with deportation, either for their protesting a genocide or for their Tatoos (as was the case for some of the Venezuelans), this gives the current government the power to get rid of opponents and ‘threats’ however they see fit. The precedent has already been set. So I’m bothering local officials and finding other ways to resist.
Ah yes, you read this for farming.
But booiii are immigration and farming linked! I keep coming back to this article from January, which states that Central Valley Farmworkers are afraid to turn up for work because of deportation threats. The violence exacted on the people who feed us is unparalleled. And if you think this isn’t going to have a knock-on effect, with tariffs and whatever the hell else they cook up in that stupid white house, then think again. Agriculturally, this is going to be an interesting year.
On the Farm
So, anyways, with that in mind, my partner and I started a small farm this month.
It’s a weird state to be in because we have been preparing for this for four years. We’ve trained as apprentices for two of those years and for the last two, we were managing someone else’s farm to get in that day-to-day managing experience (and a steady paycheck). And now we’re here!
On Wednesday, the 26th of March, we signed a lease.
We’ll be on roughly 2 acres of land with a building, electricity and water (though that might get tricky; more to follow).
Just to get to the lease signing was at least a month's worth of work. We viewed two properties and had numerous discussions with the landowners of each. We went backwards and forwards with drafts and amendments, we enlisted the help of the MSU extension. We talked and talked.
In between my relocation back to the States, we also registered a business. Got an Employee Identification number, opened a business bank account, and registered for government grant funding (if that’s even still a thing) in that order. We set up QuickBooks, moved into our new flat, both got part-time jobs, and I’ve made a website which has now launched. We also got an email, an Instagram, various quotes on compost deliveries, and feedback on licencing and insurance. Oh, and we’ve been announcing our return to all our friends here, which has felt wonderful if a little overwhelming. All this to say it has been a very busy 2 weeks.
And we bought a truck! And silage tarps! An $700 worth of seeds.
Since signing the lease, our first order from Johnny’s Seeds has arrived. It was a good chunk of our budget on tools and tiny pellets of life. And now it sits in the center of our farm office, ready for action.
We have also collected soil samples from the field that we will be turning into permanent raised beds. We took 6 samples from a cross-section going about 8 inches down. We then mixed up the samples and are sending a bag of dirt (about 2 cups) to Logan Labs in Ohio for a full analysis of the soil and it’s possible deficiencies. Thankfully, our training at Boradfork Farm, VA (thanks, Dan and Janet) prepared us to interpret the results and my degree in biochemistry might be put to use for once. Once we have the soil test results, I might share a little more about what we’ll be doing to build healthy soil.
We also met a Nathan, the Soil Sceintist from Spurt Compost, out in our field in the middle of a deluge. He dug up what can only be described as a brick of clay from the low wet spots where we plan to make our beds. We are going to have to put in some serious work in that section to ensure proper drainage, fertility and to reduce compaction.
Last Friday was also a busy day. We managed to attend a session at the Building Our Solidarity Economy Conference held by UofM. At the session I got to hear about the efforts of The Rent is Too Damn High Coalition in organising rental strikes and direct action for renters. About the Miami Nation of Indiana and their voluntary land tax to help steward their land, language and people, along with the complexities that arise from receiving instead of giving. I also heard from Jamila Martin of the Movement Voter Project about strategic ballots to get involved in non-election years, specifically those to provide leave for childbirth. The session I attended was closed by the phenomenal Sherina Rodriguez-Sharpe and Chace Morris from the Tetra, a digital underground railroad, whose poem I am still thinking about a week later.
This is the second event in as many weeks that I’ve attended in an effort to engage with the resources and networking available in this area. The first was a wonderful workshop on Seeding Dialogues, presented by V Shin of the "Borderless Seed Stories" project and UofM Seed Library Initiatives and my friend Caylen Cole-Hazel. I hope to attend the next one too, on the 4th of April.
All this to say, I have been busy.
We have, as of me writing this, started our first trays of chard, kale and green onions. The coming rain has us wondering when we will be able to break ground, but in the meantime, there are plenty of other things to keep us occupied. We’re scouring Facebook marketplace (boo) for people selling catterpillar tunnels but I think we are going to settle on building one ourselves. Which is pretty in-depth.
When not at our paying jobs or testing soil, we have been having calls with extension agents and people from the FSA about licences, safety, insurance and more. We have applied to two farmers’ markets and have been accepted by one. We are preparing for a farm and garden showcase in a couple of weekends’ time. Oh, and we’re reconnecting with friends while we’re at it. No big deal.
It has been hectic and wonderful to be back. It feels real and unreal and wild all at once. What a time to start.
Thanks for your patience in between these updates.
See y’all later.
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here:
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hello again. Here’s some unscheduled chatter, which I am endeavouring to do more of this year. Not just week-by-week reporting of starting a regenerative agriculture business with my partner, but also the thoughts that come up from it.
This particular piece is inspired by a recent (but also recycled) post from Kollibri terre Sonnenblume about feeding ourselves out of our vegetable gardens. It’s well worth a read.
What this piece brought up for me, and lead to a lively discussion with my partner, is how much farmers want you to grow your own food.
Let’s give a little backstory here. Let me list my credentials.
Over the past four years, I have been training on various vegetable farms to get to the point where I am now. Over this time I have taken every opportunity to talk to other farmers, to learn from them. Something I will continue to do. To exchange ideas (and recipes) and insights. To soak up all the information I can, to lead towards this very moment. I have trained, read, practised, took on more and more responsibility. For the past two years my partner and I managed an organic vegetable farm. And here we finally are, starting our own.
Shameless plug if this sounds like something you might be interested in then subscribe.
But throughout this time I have often discussed with other farmers what they like growing, and what they wish people grew more of.
The food system, as it is, here in the US and back home in the UK, is pretty wack. Or, in fact, out of wack. It’s cheaper to fly, boat and drive in food than it is to purchase from local farmers or even to grow your own. It often makes me think of this meme.
It gets me every time.
But as Kollibri terre Sonnenblume and this delicious meme point out, there is a cost associated with growing your own food. It’s not as simple, or as cheep, as just putting some seeds in the ground. Even if the main cost is often time.
But of course, there is also the sheer joy of growing your own food, which one cannot put a price on.
That is to say, there are many sides to this.
I also want to mention a good-ol’ piece from Sue Senger on how much space it takes to grow your own vegetables. She does some wonderful calculations on how much space you would need for a pound of produce per day. I honestly have so much love for the people trying to look at the problem of our food system head-on, and to give tangible and calculatable solutions.
While I agree that producing your own vegetables is vital, I find it pretty unrealistic to expect people to grow all their own food. Especially those who are looking down the barrel of sanctions and food shortages, or at the very least heightened food insecurity. To go from 0 to 100, to do so in times of housing insecurity.
It is unwise and honestly dangerous misinformation, to tell people to just grow a victory garden and they will weather the storm coming our way.
Not that Sue is doing this, I am 100% behind her calculations and her calls to grow your own.
But in this, I acknowledged that many people do not have the resources to grow their own food, to buy local produce, to find fresh vegetables within an accessible distance. And in this way I am willing to be a traitor to my profession.
I think people should grow more of their own food.
As a farmer, I encourage people to grow more of their own food.
This may seem counter-intuitive. As if I’m chasing away customers. But my reaosns are threefold.
Economies of Scale
For a lot of crops, it will be cheaper and more efficient for me (a farmer) to grow them at a much larger scale than a kitchen garden. This is true of things like lettuce, tomatoes, garlic and onions.
For an individual to have just one head of lettuce every week for most of the growing season you would need to plant at least 30 heads. And for things like lettuce, you can’t plant them all at once. To get a consistent flow of lettuce you would have to plant a couple of plants per week for 15+ weeks. You would have to have the space for that in your garden, the schedule to start a couple of seeds each week or, even more expensively, to buy regular transplants. A constant supply of lettuce is no mean feat for a home gardener.
Whereas farmers, even ones on a small scale, can easily plant 800 lettuce heads every other week (that’s one standard 100’ bed spacing the lettuces in 4 rows 6” apart). A farmer can provide enough salad for 400 salads a week. Maybe 300 to account for spoilage and pests and people not really feeling salad that week. But that’s enough to keep you (and 299 others) in salad for the whole growing season, for as little as $2 a head.
The same principle applies to root crops; carrots, daikon, turnips, beetroot, and radishes. A 100-foot bed, which is tiny on the farming scale, can produce at least 120 bunches of carrots. Planted consistently a farmer can provide roots at a scale that is hard to replicate in the home garden.
Or grains, or dried beans, you’re going to need a couple of acres grown collectively to get you enough to live on. And that’s fine. It’s not impossible, as shown by the phenomenal Homegrown and Hand-gathered, but it sure isn’t the easiest.
I say all this not to discourage you, but to point out the case where a farmer would be the ideal person to grow salad or root vegetables for a community instead of each member growing them for themselves.
On the other hand, some plants are easier to tend at a kitchen garden scale: collards, chard and kale. Here a couple of plants are all that are needed to keep your household stocked with greens for as long as the plants can grow. I would absolutely love it if more of our customers grew their own hardy greens. I would feel no remorse hearing that’s what they were doing instead of buying ours.
This is also true for peas. For the love of all that is holy, please grow your own peas. They are so hard to make commercially viable, but so delicious. On each farm I’ve been on they are grown for love, not money.
Or microgreens. Ah, the list goes on!
This may sound like I’m turning away my own customer base but this couldn’t be further from the truth. For one there will always be people without growing space and I’m happy to provide for them. For two, many people might find they don’t like growing certain vegetables, they won’t know that unless they try. And vitally, getting to talk to people about what they are growing is always exciting! This leads me to the next point.
Encouraging Resilience
Taking a chance on a new variety is not usually at the top of a busy farmer’s list of things to do that year. Not unless the seed has mysteriously become unavailable (I could rant on that later) or if they have had a particularly strong recommendation from another local farmer. But the joy of a home garden is that you get to try all the wonderful and weird varieties that farms don’t usually have the chance to grow.
Personally, while I’m also planning a whole farm, I am also shopping for grexi (grexes?) and cool breeding stock from the Experimental Farm Network for my personal garden.
By growing a wide variety of plants and even members of the same species in a bioregion we build resilience into the local food system. The more we experiment with varieties, the greater chance there is that something will adapt to the changing climate. Home gardens and small diversified farms are at the forefront of protecting genetic diversity and thus climate resilliance.
Resilience is not just found in the varieties we choose to grow but in many people growing many things all at once. If a farmer has a crop failure, which is becoming more likely within our collapsing climate, having a home garden is a backstop. A fallback.
So not only do home gardeners get to experiment, to have more options in the case of disruptions to the food system but they also get to learn a vital skill. When we learn to grow food, as Roots & Reinforcers pointed out in their piece on Behavioural Cusps (or gateway hobbies), we open the door to preserving, learning new varieties, to noticing the local fauna that eats our crops too. Growing food is a gateway to a realm of knowledge; a great inspiration.
The more people that know how to grow food, the better equipped our communities will be to weather the coming chaos.
Abundance
There have certainly been times in my life where I have caught myself in the capitalist trap of ownership, of gatekeeping, of scarcity. But if working with the land, with the non-human beings and the changing seasons has taught me anything it’s that when we move from abundance s**t just works better.
I could spend my time opining about how home gardens are going to put small farms out of business. Or I could look at the shattered food system and think farms of every scale and home gardeners are all essential parts of transforming this broken system. By tapping into the knowledge of local people, into the passion of hobbyists and connecting with the sheer joy of growing, we might make something better.
When we move from a place of enough, which is I’m sure going to get harder and harder, we have the chance to provide for ourselves and others. Tomato plants don’t worry that the plant next to them is also producing pounds of delicious fruit, they just make their own. Giving freely and in return we (hopefully) save their seeds. We enjoy their bounty, we tend to them.
This sounds very woo-woo, I know. But moving from a place of abundance, a place of enough, has helped me to not see myself as a lone fighter in the saving of our food system (a very white saviour thing to think, honestly), but as a small part. A tiny mushroom in a lively mycelial network.
If encouraging people to grow their own kale loses me a couple of kale sales, so be it. If those people eventually come back and tell me a new method for keeping pests away, if they share some saved seed, and some insight, then it will be worth it. If they come back in a year and say they don’t love growing kale but want to buy it- now they know what goes into keeping the plant happy and pest-free- great. If they never come back but buy a couple of seedlings in the spring and encourage their friends to grow their own, also fine.
This isn’t about winning. This is about working together.
Overall I think there is a place for each of us in transforming our food movement. Within ecosystems, diversity is essential for survival. By growing your own food you are adding to the rich tapestry of your local food system. You can steward unexpected varieties, can experiment and provide for yourself and your neighbours. But if you don’t have the time or the capacity, or the money to grow your own, there is no shame in it. Local farmers want to provide you with fresh affordable produce. There is room for us all in this. In fact, we are all vital components of this tangled food web.
Ok, that’s my diatribe over.
I’m more excited than ever to get growing and will be sending out updates soon-ish.
See you on the flip side,
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here:
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
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Hello again. Welcome, or indeed, welcome back.
Scrap Farm is the newsletter/podcast where I detail how my partner and I are starting an agroecological farm.
I’ve had an influx of new subscribers over the past few weeks, which has been wonderful. But I thought I would re-introduce myself and what I’m trying to do here.
Hi, I’m Magda. I spent the past 4 years learning to farm. The most recent two involved my partner and I managing a farm (and a team of 6, and volunteers and U-Pickers) in Ann Arbor, Michigan. The two years before that I was a farm apprentice in both Virginia and Colorado. Each of the farms I learnt on, that my partner and I learnt on, since we met on the first fated farm in Colorado, have taught us about ways to grow both vegetables and a business.
This year, in fact this week (eeeeek), we are embarking on the next stage of our farming journey. We are hopefully signing a contract with some land that we wish to lease and then starting to cultivate our own business.
For those of you who have been following my journey for the past year, the question has been ever-churning. The US or the UK? Can we get a visa? Will we? Do we want to?
While I don’t have the perfect answer for each of those, we have come to a decision.
We’re moving back to Michigan. Hell, we’ve moved back. I’m here now.
This decision was not taken lightly. And in some ways I feel very defensive of it, though my friend and family have all been supportive. And I truly appreciate them for that. But in the end it was a decision that had to be made, between my partner and myself. We could no longer prolong the liminal stage we were in.
I had, since November, been applying for any and every job under the sun that would provide me with the requisite £29k annual income needed for the family visa. For anyone asking why we didn’t just get married, unfortunately it doesn’t work like that. You can be married (or live together for over 4 years like we have) and still need the ordained income to prove you won’t be a ‘drain on society’. An income that is more than the average income of farming FAMILIES in the UK, let alone individuals. I could not get a job that met this requirement, and my partner and I could not remain in limbo for several more months.
Some of this, of course, is absolutely terrible timing. I began job hunting just before the Christmas season, in a time when people are going to be fearful of hiring (what with the change in administration and all the s**t Trump has already stirred up). Apparently in February there were also 24% fewer jobs than the year before. Not great timing there either. I have also obviously been out of the country, and out of an industry that pays that well for 4 years. And vitally, the farming season is about to start. All of this seems like I have to justify this choice. But in reality, it is the best choice for my partner and I at this time. Things change, situations unfold.
Am I sad about leaving my friends and family in the UK yet again and going to a place which is activly dismanteling tielsf before our very eyes. Yes, thanks for asking, I am.
But, I am not one for half-arsing, for not giving it my all. A choice has been made. A choice hummed and haared and discussed in a loop. Our choice.
So here are some things I’m excited about when returning to Michigan:
We have a group of friends that have been delighted to hear we are returning (and I can’t wait to catch up with them all).
We have two possible land options for us to use over the next 1-3 years, and with the guidance of the MSU extension service, we are firming up leases.
The libraries in Ann Arbor are so well funded and I can go do more letterpress.
We have found a cute flat in a nice area that is cat friendly, and ideally won’t move for the next couple of years.
Some of my friends have said they will visit me in the summer!!
My parents might visit me in the summer!
My partner and I will be on the same continent again, in the same house, working on something we are both so passionate about.
Everyone needs to eat, and with tariffs coming in there will be more need than ever. It’s going to be one hell of a time to start a business but at least it’s in something we all need (food).
Future Farm Updates
Or is it the current farm at this point? I think I’m going to have to update my format a little.
On Saturday, we went and looked at one of the prospective sites that we will rent this coming year. It is two acres with a building, use of a greenhouse, water, electricity and a very supportive seeming landlord.
Hopefully this week we will tour the other site, which is a smaller half acre fenced in area, with water/electricity access, use of barns and on a working seed farm.
Both of there options are viable and exiting, once we see them my partner and I will evaluate the best option and sign a lease ASAP. From there we will almost immediately start seeding for this year’s planting.
In the meantime, we will be ordering all the equipment (tools, soil, bins, carts etc.) that we need to get going. This includes making a website, which I’m very excited for and having a friend design the logo.
We have now officially filed to be an LLC on the Department of Licensing and Regulatory Affairs website (LARA). We’re also filing a Doing Business As form to secure our name. Once we have these done, I hope correctly, we’ll be able to set up our business bank account and then from there start ordering all our items etc. If this all works out, I’ll probably write a more detailed order in which to do things so that the next person starting a farm can have a bit of a clearer step-by-step.
My partner and I are also interviewing for various part time jobs to support at least our first and maybe out second year of farming. So it is all systems go out here.
I hope to have a more detailed update for you all soon.
Thanks for sticking with me,
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here:
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Welcome to Scrap Farm, the newsletter/podcast where I discuss starting a farm, its realities, and the work towards a fairer and more just food system. I’m Magda and this one is going to be a difficult one.
I’ve had a bit of an influx of followers recently which, if anything, has made it harder to write. This is coupled with the fact that I have no news, nothing, nada. No job. For those of you unaware of the situation I need a job that pays £29k annually to get my partner into the UK. And boiii is the incentive to move to the UK more pressing than ever. We have no updates on land in the UK, where I am currently after two weeks of visiting my partner in California (yes, it was a little ablaze as I arrived). There was some movement, some jostling on the front of land in the US but that is still very much in the air. I have very little to report. And that has made me dread writing an update.
But I remind myself that I am writing this to show the difficulties with starting a farm if you aren’t landed, rich or very lucky. To show the reality of international moves. Of the food system. So after a good internal talking to, I coaxed myself into writing last week.
Then my mentor died.
It was, in all ways, unexpected. At an alarming rate, farmers are committing suicide, not just in the US but in the UK too. I may talk about this another time but for now I want to remember the man.
My partner and I had talked to him less than a month ago. He had told us, my partner and I, he was proud of us and excited for what we would do. Even typing that makes me want to hurl my computer out a window.
Casey Piscura taught me about plant breeding, seed keeping, vegetable growing and showing up for community. After an absolute shitshow of a year he and his then-partner Kirsten nurtured my world-weary 26-year-old soul back from the brink of despair. They did so with hard labour, delicious meals and the kind of grace I was lucky to be afforded. Working on their farm in Colorado I realised that farming was something that I not only could do but that I wanted to do (possibly forever).
It was a busy year, I was learning the basics of plant breeding, I was realising the dream of feeding people with real dirt work and I was falling in love. This was the farm where I met my partner nearly 4 years ago. Where we began our journey together.
Working at Wild Mountain Seeds for just one season was the foundation the rest of my farming career has been built off. The high I chase when dreaming of the future. I came to them broken and burnt out and left beautifully exhausted and solar-powered.
During my first few weeks at the farm, when I was still testing how much British sass the Americans can take (turns out quite a lot) I asked Casey about feeling bad for killing all the tomatoes he left out in frost trails. I was just making conversation. But I was also kind of being an arse. His earnest answer took me off guard, that he felt a great responsibility towards stewarding the varieties. Finding the strongest, the most hardy, but he still thought about the sacrifice of each tomato plant. This passion, and compassion, can be tasted in the varieties he was working on. Frost-tolerant, purple-stemmed wonders, sweeter than sense, in all miraculous shades. More than the fruits of his labour was that honesty, that interwoven care, that cracked open a little bit of my brittle British self. Told kindly and sincerely.
The old proverb that Casey quoted most often was that “the best fertiliser is a farmer’s footsteps.” Bring attention to what you do and it will bloom. At all times try to bring even a fraction of the attention that he brought to farming into what I do.
Casey was kind, passionate and different. I think this is important to say. Not to disparage him, but to point out the joy in that. As the highest honour. He bred vegetables, marvellous, delicious, soil-spun varieties. Stewarded with such attention. From their glorious differences, the mutations, the ‘imperfections’, he created sweet, colour-blushed strains. From the plethora of maxima squash varieties, he made a culinary landrace that to this day I have never tasted better. From all the little differences he coaxed something so beautiful. He did that with apprentices too, though people are more complex than vegetables. Casey gave people the space to be themselves and acknowledged his own humanity at the same time. I will be forever grateful to him for that.
As I try to forge forward on the farming endeavour I have been thinking about lineage. The people we learn from. I was taught by Kim Bayer of Slow Farm, Janet Aardema and Dan Gagnon of Broadfork Farm, I was taught (through reading/podcasts) by Carol Depp, Vandana Shiva, Chris Blanchard, Rowen White, Dan Brisbois, Chris Newman, John Navazio, Owen Smith Taylor and Chris Bolden-Newsome. There are so many more.
But before that, I was taught by Casey Piscura and Kirsten Keenan.
I owe them a great debt I may never repay.
But last season, and the one before it, I got the chance to begin teaching people how to farm. My partner and I were on the other end of the training, shepherding a team as best we could. I now get to check in on the people we taught and see what they are doing. And I could not be prouder if I tried.
One is a grower for Refugee Garden Initiative which provides income for single immigrant mothers and the other started a seed swap and workshops through her library job (for which I did a couple of talks). There are more of them too and caring and nourishing wherever they go.
The flow of knowledge goes both forward and backward. It’s not something to hold but something to give freely.
And now comes the bit I am loath to do. Not because I am not excited, truly I am, but because it feels sleazy to promote something off the back of this recent news. But I remind myself, that I want to share the knowledge that has been shared with me, I want to connect with other young farmers and get a conversation going, I want to nourish connections and let people know they are not alone in this.
At 19:00 on the 20th of February, I will be hosting a Speaker’s Corner with Emergent Generation. My talk will focus on Seed Keeping and all that entails. From the basics of plant breeding to the technicalities of saving, processing and cleaning seed, to how this is useful in climate resilience. It’s free to anyone and everyone, though for people aged 18-35 interested in changing our food systems and working to restore our ecosystems, I would urge signing up with Emergent Generation.
That’s as much plug as I feel comfortable with, honestly.
And all of this has barely touched on the worsening situation across the pond. Federal funding for grants (such as for greenhouses) has been paused indefinitely, the government is being actively dismantled, and some little tech-boys have access to the treasury. Guantanamo Bay, which never closed I would like to point out, is EXPANDING. Let’s call a coup a coup. And I still can’t get my partner into the UK (something we have been talking about for years, but now feel like we’re running away, it’s complicated)!
In all this political grief, which I am trying to not let it freeze me, there is the personal grief of losing my mentor. More than that, my friend.
When I work my way through the fug of despair these days I am reminded of lineage. Of the flowing of care, attention, of passion and knowledge, that I am just a small part of. That Casey was just a small part of (though a big part for me). That we are teachers and being taught. There are good people out there fighting on all different fronts, and we each only have to fight on together.
That is not to say we should slide complacently into the bitter goodnight that the US seems intent on enforcing. Nor let despair drag us down into inaction. But if you look, you will find people doing things. Join them. Volunteer at your local food bank, protect the abortion clinics we have left, talk to your neighbours, donate to institutions you believe in, and berate your local representative. And of course, Boycott, Divest and Sanction. Support people who put their bodies on the line to protest, either with food or funds. I keep thinking about the United Farm Workers’ support for the Black Panthers, about how all our struggles are interwoven.
So here it is, grief-stricken I am carrying on. Heartbroken, I am persisting.
When I know what we are doing next, so will you all, but for now
See you on the flip side,
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here:
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Welcome to Scrap Farm, the newsletter/podcast where I discuss living seasonally, adapting to climate chaos and whatever else, all in the context of trying to start a farm in the UK (probably, maybe).
If you’re new here, hello, hi. To those returning, welcome back!
I report to you live from the trenches of job applications. For those of you unaware of my current situation, I need to get a job that pays £29k annually for my partner to be allowed into the country. During the Visa process, it took us just a little too long to figure this out and we are now in our respective family homes (he in California and myself in London) as we sort this s**t out. By sort this s**t out I mean frantically applying for jobs while also looking into loans in case we return to Michigan (where we were running a farm for the past two years).
It’s a weird time.
Made weirder still by the fact that the first ‘interview’ I had in a while was actually for an MLM (a Pyramid Scheme, apparently legal). Honestly, there were red flags from the start; the first ‘interview’ was just being talked at by a ‘director’ of the company, then there was an ‘essential questionnaire’ that just asked about availability, then a phone call congratulating me on getting that far (I hadn’t spoken to anyone yet).
The real kicker came in the second ‘interview’ when my interviewer, a 19-year-old (fresh out of his A Levels) and I were put in a breakout room. We were all Polish. I honestly think this was so we would ‘connect’ with the interviewer and not look too closely at the company or its scammy scummy nature. After another half an hour of being talked at, my blood was boiling as I realised how the ‘payment system’ worked. Either become part of the ‘management team’ and endlessly recruit or become a door-to-door salesperson for British Gas (and get paid on only commission). They asked me which route I was interested in. I answered honestly; neither. The interviewer even tried to neg me into the job, ‘Didn’t I want to learn sales’, as if years of experience were suddenly negated. As if I didn’t have the drive to do their shitty job. When asked I refused to tell them what their red flags were, no way was I helping them improve. Righteous indignation is one hell of a drug.
The rest of that morning I spent on the phone with Trading Standards reporting them and then to the Equalities and Human Rights Commission (which I was directed to but technically I wasn’t actively discriminated against they just were scuzzy about dividing people up based on ethnicity). I wasn’t expecting anything from this but to get something on record about the company’s hiring practices. Sufficed to say I don’t think much will come of reporting them but I really appreciate everyone I talked to and their guidance on how to proceed.
And if you’re applying for a job at Steppe2: don’t. RUN.
The s**t part of all this is that this company is getting impressionable young people to work for poverty wages. They expect them to live off the love of the grind. And if they survive that, to bring more people in on the scheme. I would have fallen for it if I was fresh out of sixth form too. Luckily I’m thirty and bitter.
Oh, yeah, I turned THIRTY on Christmas Eve. Or as I call it ✨ Magday ✨
The other s**t part of this whole ordeal was that I was so desperate for a job, so willing to look at any opportunity, that I ignored several red flags. I am privileged enough to not have to take this scammy job, but many people are not. Absolutely terrified for anyone who moves to London for it. Or for this to be someone’s first experience in the workforce.
Anyway, the job hunt continues.
Current Farm Updates
Ok, yes, I know, I have no current farm. But I wanted a separate space for the Oxford Real Farming Conference which I attended in person last week. While I don’t have a farm to represent at the moment, it was a valuable opportunity to connect with people in the agricultural scene here in the UK. To refill my cup and to get as mycelial as possible.
On the theme of labour, it was wonderful to hear about the formation of SALT Union, and their joining of the larger Bakers and Allied Food Workers Union, which allows them to provide more for their members. SALT stands for Solidarity Across Land Trades and is for all workers of the land. They made a valid and often overlooked point that the agroecological movement pushed for the ends to justify the means at times, that the dream of a more ecologically integrated future is supposed to be enough to overcome the abuses of power farm workers experience. This is unsustainable, we can’t build a better future by burning through passionate workers. Their report on how workers become ‘Burntout, Overworked and Underpaid’ can be found on their website. I strongly encourage anyone working the land, or who was forced to leave because the work became unsustainable for them, to join this union.
One of the most poignant moments in the conference was hearing about migrant workers from Latin America who had been brought into the UK on Seasonal Workers Visas by the company Haygrove in Herefordshire. After being kept in unsanitary conditions and being actively discriminated against they went on strike, the result of which is that they were asked to pay back the cost of their visas plus interest! Eventually a ‘deal’ was reached with the workers that they would not have to pay this back but would instead have their flights home paid for if they left immediately. Once off the property, the workers were told they were in breach of contract and practically abandoned in London. This was in 2023. Some have yet to return home.
There will be a protest against the government’s neglect of these workers outside the Home Office on 24th January at Midday.
It is so easy when farming, when trying to farm, when caught in the daily grind, to not look up and think about how much worse others have it. But if we are to really transform the food system, we must protect those who are the most vulnerable to exploitation. As always the Land Workers Alliance and La Via Compesina, who have been working tirelessly to build solidarity, especially with farmers in Palestine, are a great example of this. But I’m also so excited by the creation of SALT, it is so very necessary.
Another heartening moment was hearing about the twinning of Battir Co-operative Society for Food Processing and Production in the West Bank with Fruit Works near Leeds. Farmers from both organisations have been sharing information and building tangible bridges, including a virtual marmalade-making session.
Another session I really enjoyed was about funding the Agroecological transition, where the point was made that farming already has loads of funding but unfortunately, it is all funnelled into massive players. What is needed is a damming of the flow of capital and a redirecting towards a just and sustainable food system. In this session, I heard about the push for a Basic Income for Farmers, which is beginning to trail the concept in small clusters. A Basic Income would allow farmers, who earn well below the average income in this country, to be able to focus on suitability without sacrificing the bottom line or their mental health. As Alex Heffron points out “Farmers cannot go green if they are in the red”.
Another person I took almost feverish notes on was Meshark Sikuku of Ripple Effect, who is working to help rural subsistence farmers in East Africa transition to more productive, profitable and vitally sustainable farming practices. He spoke of the adoption of amaranth and other climate-resilient crops, the use of keyhole gardens for water preservation and the ‘push-pull’ method of integrated pest management. Along with their rural programs, Ripple Effect runs a Garden Twinning Project to help build international solidarity with subsistence farmers.
And finally, I have already downloaded quite a few reports from Nourish Scotland, where I was introduced to the concept of Public Diners, an alternative to food banks. Or at least a complement to them. In a Public Diner, which would ideally be supplied by local farms, people can eat nutritious, local food for free with the people in their community. Bringing people together and reducing the pressure on households to provide and cook every meal.
I feel this only briefly touches the surface of the information I gathered at the conference. Thank goodness they make all their sessions available on YouTube for me to watch back and share liberally. Though at times the conference felt overwhelming, as there were so many problems to solve, so many challenges we face, it was also very hopeful. There are people working on each of these and places where I can and will lend my energy.
Future Farm Updates
Ah yes, a little less hopeful on this front. My partner and I had a very informative discussion with the FSA about a loan for land we looked at in Michigan. Land my heart yearned for but reality has other ideas. The local loan agent was more than helpful and talked us through the information we would need from our mentor about production and financial histories, along with how to fill out the form the most effectively. Unfortunately, we got towards the end of the call and were going over some of the details of the property and we hit a real, very solid brick wall.
The FSA will not give out loans for land with a house on them that are under 10 acres.
The land we looked at is just over 5 acres.
F**k.
While we are still exploring our options, it is unlikely that a traditional bank will give us a loan for that property. The FSA gives out these types of agricultural loans because farmers are such a high-risk investment. The government legally cannot compete with banks in offering these loans. So the condition for said loans is that you can’t get financing from any other institutions. An FSA loan is basically our only shot at owning land.
And to be honest I completely understand why they would not want people to be buying a house with minimal acreage. While we would be able to earn up to $100k annually by putting two of the acres into production, this still would basically be like the government buying us a house. And hell, why shouldn’t they, people need places to live. But that’s a discussion for another time. I can understand how people may try to game the system and not farm the land they buy. But that being said this leaves little wiggle room for smaller operations.
We don’t plan to farm 10 acres, we don’t even plan to farm 5, but we could still make a living and feed people off of what we do plan to farm. Will this mean that we are forced to buy property bigger than we can use to get the funding we need?
Honestly, probably yes.
But there is also the UK that we are working towards. Hence the sustained job-hunting and the Land Match Mixer I attended at the ORFC.
It is all, once again, up in the air.
I’m so glad I have someone to go through this with. Several someones (though my family and friends are undoubtedly sick of hearing about it). We’re lucky to even have this opportunity. We are privileged to be considering an international move or even buying land. I take none of this for granted.
Anyway, I’m open to well-paying marketing and communications jobs. I’m open to most UK-based jobs paying over £29k. I am hopeful about land and I’m so very lucky to be able to pursue my passion. Even if right now it’s a bit of a b***h.
Oh and I got my FIXED glasses back and they are so cute and I look so hot.
See you on the flip side,
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here:
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Welcome to Scrap Farm, the newsletter/podcast where I discuss living seasonally, adapting to climate chaos and how to make jam, all in the context of trying to start a farm (possibly in the UK but at this point who knows?).
If you’re new here, hello, hi, welcome. The next few weeks are likely to be less farm-centric and will harken back to my older writings for this newsletter. Writings on ‘weeds’ and foragables, on pagan festivals and the ever-turning wheel of the year. To those returning, also Hi.
When it comes to farm updates, my partner and I are more or less where we were last week. That is, stuck in the tichy indecision, or not even indecision, but in having to keep our options open. I have applied for countless more jobs, and been rejected from quite a few. We have, however, submitted our US business plan to see if we qualify for a USDA loan on a property we toured back in October. Thinking about that land it seems like a lifetime ago. Thinking about the land we toured in the UK also seems very far away. Being in the UK hinges on me getting a well-paid job, and how long we can hold out and wait for that. Being in the US hinges on whether we qualify for a land loan. Lots of hinges. Such a liminal time lol.
Oh also I just listened to the above podcast and for once I felt like the business plan we’d drawn up might be better than we think. Or at least we ahven’t forgotten any of the easily forgotten expenses of running a farm (but I’m sure there will be others).
In Theory
Some actual news is that I passed my UK theory test. At 29 years old! What a marvel. For those of you who wonder how it got this far, I grew up in London and had no need to drive until I started living in the US at 25. I would also like to say that I got my American license in one week in New Orleans. I drove my instructor on her errands, to shop for her daughter’s birthday present and to pick up coffee. My ‘theory’ section was learnt in 8 hours in a room where I was the only person who hadn’t been driving for years already (everyone else had got caught driving without a licence, so the course for them was mandatory). I spent a week dodging drunk tourists, potholes and horse manure. And then suddenly I was allowed to drive.
Even then I hadn’t really needed to drive, I got confident with driving a couple of years ago (my partner is a saint for surviving that long and for trusting me with his manual cars). Compared to the paper multiple-choice questions and 10-minute drive around the block that got me my Louisiana licence the UK system is quite severe. The US is actually one of the only countries where the driving licence isn’t convertible in the UK. I wonder why (it’s actually because regulations are so different state-to-state).
Spotty driving history aside, I was more than apprehensive about the theory test for which I had been cramming via App for about three weeks. Turing out my pockets (and dropping hawthorn seeds on the carpet), panic-clicking on a pile of leaves in the hazard perception section, I was sure I was going to fail. But no. Passed!
I’m now working on getting a couple of lessons to prepare for the practical test. This might not seem like big news but when it comes to insurance, and ease of movement having a UK licence was a bit of a stumbling block for our plans to farm here. It seems hopeful to have passed. It feels like actually moving. In any direction. Quite literally taking the wheel.
Old Frames
Another tiny life update is a superficial one. But in it being so it gave me plenty to muse on, to chew on like gristle. It began because I needed to get new lenses for my glasses.
The last time I got new glasses was seven years ago they were free (I was a student in Scotland). In that moment I saw the world for the first time, I got contact lenses. Up until that point I had been walking around in a stubborn blur. The joy of seeing every leaf, making eye-contact with ease, and communicating so much better has yet to wear off. Saying that I do love my glasses, the frames, not least because they make me look kinda hot.
But that’s not the point of all this. The point is that new lenses in old frames cost more than buying a new set of glasses to reuse my old frames. That the sales assistant was unsurprisingly very pushy. And more annoyingly, the frames I could choose from (but refused to) were visibly lower quality than the ones that had survived 7 years on my face. But unfortunately for Specsavers, I am persistent, some would say contrary.
The interaction, the insistence on the new (worse), and the prohibitive cost of reusing made me pretty fuming. It got me thinking about the Right to Repair in Europe, which of course, Brexit has had a hand in scuppering here in the UK. If it’s a struggle to fix something as small as a pair of glasses think of all the tangled, entrenched systems and thought patterns that are bogging down our food system. Our carceral system.
And yes, it’s glasses, it’s not that deep. But I’m a poet and a drama queen so it is that deep.
Speaking of which I loved Danielle Urban’s Front Porch Threads and the beginning of a series on visible mending. Along with The Restart Project’s work to support the Right to Repair.
Spiced Plum Jam
Since there is not much to report on our progress farm-wise, I will instead report on how I have been filling my days. Now the jetlag has worn off I am diving headfirst into the joys of this season. I have been overloading on festive podcasts, from quick almanacs, to traditional songs, to deep dives into various aspects of Yule. You’ll find these resources dotted throughout the newsletter.
One of my favourite activities of the past week, between passing my theory test, countless cover letters and Beta-reading a friend’s book, has been making Plum Jam. We just polished off my mum’s Damson Jam. Damsons, a small subspecies of plum, native to Great Britain but found across Europe. They have a bright, somewhat puckering flavour and make a fantastic Jam. When I was growing up, a Damson tree overhung my grandmother’s front garden. Each year she or my aunt would make Jam from its abundance and dole it out to the rest of the family. It’s a flavour so linked to her and her overflowing garden, to her kitchen-table Britishness.
My grandmother’s death towards the end of 2020 spurred me to quit my stable job and pursue farming. She had encouraged me in my love of plants, of food. The loss of her was a catalyst, a flame under the lingering feeling the pandemic had brought on. Four years later, and fresh in the loss of my other grandmother, I’m still sentimental for that stoney fruit.
The conversation my mum and I had about jam-making was spurred on by Filler Zine arriving in the post. The eighth issue (the one I’m published in) focuses on the kitchen. A place I could go on about for hours. My piece wove in my emotional connections to Damsons, to a loss of place, to storing food for the long winter ahead. Titled ‘Preservation’ it aimed to capture pickling, when a moment becomes a memory, when food becomes stored energy.
I would like to avoid turning this into one of those horrible recipes where you have to scroll through someone’s life story to get to a basic recipe. I won’t even promise you a recipe, this is all story. Story aside, Damsons are close to my heart, but they are no longer in season. So I settled for plums.
To make the Jam I stewed diced plums with 10% of the weight of water (800g plums would need 80ml water). Once they began to soften (but not fall apart) I added an equal weight of preserving sugar (800g) and brought the heat down low. Honestly, I think it could have done with less sugar but have yet to really deviate from a recipe (jam is scary at first). At this point, I also added lemon juice, cinnamon and a hint of black pepper. As I stirred the mixture to dissolve the sugar it took on a glossy vibrant texture. I dreamt of painting my imaginary living room walls that colour, of offsetting it with creams and brusk oranges. Once the sugar dissolved I cranked the heat. Watched the rolling boil turn the liquid bubbly and viscous. I should have boiled it for longer, I am no longer listening to recipe times, I am becoming ungovernable. A little earlier than necessary I scooped it into oven-steralised jars and left them in the frigid kitchen to cool overnight.
To me, and my mother apparently, jam-making always seemed like a complex and difficult art. Now I’ve made a ok-ish jam I would say it isn’t as mystical and daunting as I first thought. If anything I now want to experiment with more. I also want to take away the fear of the recipe. Though botulism is a real worry, there is enough sugar in jams that I don’t actually have as much to worry about. There is space to experiment. I’ll let you know how it goes.
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here:
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hello all,
In the vein of thanking people instead of apologising, thank you for your patience. It has been, what some people are calling, one hell of a month.
For those of you who are new here, welcome to Scrap Farm, the newsletter/podcast where I discuss running a farm while setting up a farm. But now, dear listener/readers, we are no longer even running a farm. And we don’t quite know what country we will be starting our own farm in. But I’ll get to that in a bit.
Since we last spoke a lot has happened. The main points are these:
* My Babci (Polish grandmother) died
* My partner and I finished work on the farm in Michigan
* We moved out of our flat
* We flew to the UK and went to a wedding
* We viewed land in England
* We viewed a house and land in Michigan
* We had a meeting with a lawyer about the UK Visa
* I flew back to the US for my grandmother’s funeral
* My partner drove his belongings from Michigan to California to stay with family
* I visited my sister in Australia
Mostly in that order, but you get the gist. And somewhere in there Donald F*****g Trump won a second term. November 2024 will be remembered as one of the longest months of my life. It just. Would. Not. End.
With death and change hot on my heels I find myself in a time of deep grief. There are now no living grandparents left (but there is Great Uncle Eddie, who is still absolutely kicking at 96). I feel this loss most keenly in stories I will now never hear. In the now unnamed people and places in my Babci’s photo albums. In all the things I should have asked. The grief sits with me now, a silent party to the upheaval of this time.
The tangible loss of my grandmother is now also melded with a liminal loss of place. All my belongings fit into two suitcases. I have spent too much time in airports. Not enough time cooking. Have not stopped moving for more than 6 days at a time. Bouncing between revelry, grief, political unravelling and indecision.
My partner and I are in the throws of discussion. We are trying to decide where to live.
The options are clear but also cloudy, so I’ll try to lay them out.
Farming in the UK
After talking with a lawyer (for a very affordable price of £100, thanks to the Immigration Advice Service) we have to tread carefully and I have to get a job. For those of you unfamiliar with the UK’s b******t immigration policy a couple needs a combined income of £29k a year to apply for a Visa. Because this is our first time applying, I have to make that entire income myself to get my partner into the country. To prove this I need 6 months worth of paychecks. And realistically I will need to hold down a job for way longer than that. In those 6 months, my partner can visit the UK but he obviously cannot work here, live here or use the NHS. The jury is still out on if he’s allowed to get a driver’s licence. Once I have enough paychecks, and he is physically out of the country we can apply for the Visa. We need all the proof we collected over the past few years and a s**t-tone of money and then to wait several weeks as our fate hangs in the balance.
If he is allowed in then he can move over here and bein work on the land. This month we looked at some land near Exeter through the South West Land Match Scheme. The owners of which were very kind and let us visit (and stay overnight) during our whistlestop tour of the UK. The land has an enclosed section with shepherd huts that are likely to be redone into a barn, an orchard of young fruit trees and plenty of water. It is located between 3 market towns and about 30 minutes from Exeter which is ideal for the weekend market. The landowners are not only supportive but pretty cool (helped to set up the foodbank within their village). It’s a solid option. It could be done. We are still in discussion with them and nothing is set in stone just yet.
So what are the stumbling blocks? Well, the main one is that I need a Job. Pronto. ASAP. Probably yesterday. Has anyone looked at the job market recently? It’s fierce. I’m out here sending several tailored applications a day and so far, no dice. Add into this the unknown amount of time my partner and I will be apart and the general delay to our being able to farm next year. We’ve agreed we need to get out of thinking we’ll be sorted by March (when the farm work begins), but it’s hard not to think about the loss of growing time this year is likely to cause. There’s also the matter of us both needing UK driving licences (I grew up in London, when would I have needed one), of finding accommodation, of starting over again somewhere that is likely to be only temporary. Oh and in 3 years we’d have to do the VISA all over again.
But then there are the advantages. The political climate is less volatile. Yes, that’s with Keir Stahmer being a pro-genocide, anti-immigrant, neo-liberal wet tea towel. But it’s less on the verge of a civil war. There are also better things about the UK as a whole; public transport, the NHS (what remains of it), the lack of guns in schools, the proximity to my friends and family. The last two points are especially vital if we are to eventually start a family of our own. Not owning land would also give us flexibility and freedom, having support from the landowners and the LWA would be really helpful. Me having to have a job for at least some of the time would mean we don’t have to plough through all our savings immediately.
Farming in the US
Then there’s the other side of things. A side I have resisted for a while now but is a viable option that needs to be properly considered. My partner and I looked at land near where we have been living in Michigan. It was, unfortunately, close to perfect. 5 acres, with a beautiful 100-year-old barn, a farmhouse, a duck pond, an orchard, a mini-greenhouse and apparently some cats come with the property. Oh, and the owners seemed to like us and are in no rush to sell. It doesn’t however have a well, is surrounded on all sides by industrial agriculture and costs quite a f*****g lot.
To get this land we would have to go through the process of applying for a loan through the USDA. We’re currently adapting our business plan to the area to see if we would even be eligible for the loan. If we managed to get the loan and buy the property we would then have a mortgage to pay. Something not insignificant when starting a small business from scratch. But on the other hand, the land would be ours. Which is a wild thing to me as I made peace pretty early on with the fact I would never get on the property market. But now here is the option to do so and I honestly don’t know what to do with it.
So what are the stumbling blocks here? One would be getting well on the property, without which we would be unable to water crops. Another would be actually qualifying for the USDA loan. Then there’s the political situation in the US. Not looking very hopeful in terms of POC/women’s/LGBTQ+ rights, or environmental protections, or curbing the exponential rise of fascism. But then, how privileged is it of me to run away when things start looking bad? To take an option that so few people have, to just leave when there is good to be done and people to be fed. Conversely, does that mean I have a saviour complex if I do stay? There’s also the emotional aspect of it all. We have been telling people for the past year we’re moving to the UK, roadblock after roadblock, time after time. We said goodbye to our friends under these conditions. And I thought I might finally live near some of my family again. It feels selfish to stay and selfish to go.
But again, there are advantages. We know the area. In the past two years, we have built up a (pretty good) reputation with businesses and other farmers. There is a thriving local food scene which we were, until recently, a part of. That isn’t something small, the connections we made are strong and tended with care, and we wouldn’t have to start from scratch. The land itself has been used for growing organically and has all the buildings we would actually need to succeed (except a high tunnel). Not only that but we could own a house, and if it all went to s**t business-wise we could sell that house and get the money back (as someone who has paid more than £30k in rent so far in her life that is a real plus). No one would have to get a driver’s licence. Or a Visa. The no Visa would free up a big ol’ chunk of change we could put towards a high tunnel. But then we would have to pay a deposit on a house so either way these choices are expensive. Oh, and it’s sunny there (which cannot be said of the UK).
So here we are, the decision of it. The stretching thin on both our parts to keep both options open. To not yet close a door so we don’t yet have to climb out the window.
It’s homeownership and political unrest on one side and housing instability, family and free healthcare on the other. What a f*****g choice.
In all this, I have to remind myself what we’re actually working towards. It’s pretty funny that I’ve been using the ‘three pillars’ of what matters to me when applying for jobs, but I need to hark back to them now. Somewhat more sincerely.
Connection, Nourishment and Knowledge.
That’s what matters. Growing and supplying nutritious vegetables. Supporting the whole damn ecosystem. Building resilient communities, empowering them and sharing whatever information I can. No gatekeeping. Tearing down barriers to entry. And I’d like to do all this with my partner. That’s the core of it.
Wherever we end up this is what we are committing to doing. There will be people to feed, to get to know, to train and encourage, to learn from. There will be a community to join and mould. And if there isn’t we will make one. Wherever we choose will be the right choice and we will try so hard to make it work.
Honestly, a part of me just wants to skip to that part, to the hard work of it, instead of the tedium of decision. But there is no way to fast forward this time. Instead, we need to sit in it. The uncomfortable gestation of winter. The itching for spring. We won’t get rest like this again so I should probably enjoy it while it lasts.
I’ll let you know when we know.
M
Recently published: Filler Zine 08-The Kitchen
Preservation by Magda N-W
I’m stirring a sauce I may never eat. Pickling a summer that will never come again. Dreaming of seeds I may never plant. There’s a joy in this. Preserving. Saving of a harvest, that would otherwise go to rot…
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here:
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Welcome back to Scrap Farm, the podcast/newsletter where I talk about starting a farm, while running a farm, amid a climate in crisis.
First off, Happy Birthday to my Father. Here’s a cute picture of him and my baby sister next to some Dahlias that were definitely never smuggled. I have very fond memories of being on the allotment with him, too small to understand the magnitude of plants but big enough to eat a whole artichoke head on the reg.
Housekeeping (not that my father turning 49 for the 19th time is housekeeping, of course) out the way, time for the heavy stuff. At times I find it hard to strike the balance, to show the scenes of pastoral life while also paying heed to the climatic changes underway.
Anyone seen the first-of-its-kind hurricane Kirk heading towards Europe for Wednesday morning? Or Milton going from CAT1 to CAT5 in a matter of hours (and reaching the mathematical limit for a hurricane)?
The devastation wrought through Ashville NC is still so fresh. It’s not a sneak preview of the years to come. This is it. It only gets worse.
Ah, lighthearted. A good way to start.
Crops and cyclones aren’t the only things on my mind of late. It has been a year since the siege on Gaza began. Since Israel let loose their colonial fury in unrestrained and violent ways. More brazen than ever before. It has been a year of genocide on all our screens and s**t all done to stop it. Not to mention the ongoing displacement, murder and modern slavery in (but not limited to) the Congo.
It feels flippant to talk about Winter Squash harvests and cutting down the Okra next to a backdrop of genocide. And to mention them just briefly feels like lip service. Simply to cover my ass, so that history looks favourably on me. That is not the intention. But it may be the outcome.
As I write this, I try not to go off-scope. I have been trying to focus on what I stated I would talk about: the current farm, the future farm, the search for land, the realities of farming, small scale, as ethically as possible (within the bounds of late-stage capitalism), but MY GOD. It feels so small. Pastoral in the worst sense of the word. Insular and insulting.
All of these problems are connected. Climate change is interwoven with colonialism, which is tied to land use and water access. Nothing exists in a vacuum. But how the f**k can I reconcile writing about planting spinach while more than half of Gaza’s farmland has now been damaged by ‘conflict’. At times, honestly, I can’t.
Current Farm Updates
As this season comes to a close I have finally had a chance to catch my breath. Whether it has been the unrelentingness of being one of the only full-time employees or the juggling present and future, in truth my partner and I are burning out.
We’re too tired to think straight. And yes it feels whiney to say this within the same few sentences as literal genocide. But it also points to the realities of the time in which we live. Where people are too tired just trying to survive to look up and realise everyone else is suffering too. You can still know it, it can still stop you in your tracks every so often, and yet, you still have to pay rent. You still have to go to work.
So we went to work. We paid rent.
The squash field which we had all but abandoned after two mass weeding events has managed to yield a metric fucktonne of Winter Squash as well as some beautiful pumpkins for the most intrepid U-Pickers.
Most of the squash we have been harvesting, at one point it was 800 lbs per day, have been found with our feet. As we push through the heavy grass that has grown up we happen upon an ankle-turning, hard, delicious prize. You may ask, and it would be fair to, why the weeding got so out of hand. After talking about planting the full 5 acres by hand (Read it here: Heat Shook) we have several successful rounds of eco-weeding. This involves driving the tractor between the rows of squash and dragging a contraption (the eco-weeder) behind which has spinning claw hands that rip out weeds. The problem comes when the squash plants decide they don’t want to grow in perfectly straight rows but instead venture out into the ‘pathways’ in search of more nutrients and sunlight. Apparently, squash plants don’t like being run over, so our weeding gets halted in its tracks. For anyone asking why we don’t just use a herbicide, I would say mass extermination in any form is pretty unconscionable and leave it at that.
So we harvested squash. And there’s still more out there.
We have also taken down all of our outside tomatoes. Gone. Done. Dusted.
We have put some absolutely beautiful silage tarps on out on our weediest blocks. This will take advantage of a process called Occultation, where the tarps will trap the last of the October sun and bake the plants underneath. Allowing weed seeds to germinate but not giving them any light until removed in the spring. This is just one of many ways to prevent weeds organically. And honestly favourable to having to weed manually. This will happen eventually no matter what we do (though as the seed bank depletes and tillage remains off the table it gets easier every year).
The cucumbers are still going strong which is a surprise and not likely to last. We have some cold nights coming and those babies are toast. But I’ll make one more dish with them while they’re here. Ah, seasonal living.
Speaking of, my partner and I have eaten a winter squash a day for the past couple weeks. All the ones about to rot as they cure in the greenhouse. We’ve been loving the Sunshine Kobocha and the Dessert Spirit Culinary Landrace along with the Delicata (a classic). They have been cooked simply, sliced, tossed in olive oil and salt and baked until browning. Dipped in Siracha Mayo. Dang. That’s Autumn right there.
Over the coming weeks, we’ll be extracting more plants. This Saturday marks the 24th AND FINAL week of our CSA. It could not have come sooner. I think possibly a CSA that runs for nearly half a year with no break is a lot. I will be glad to be taking it slower no matter what we do next year. After that final CSA pickup comes the team potluck and then in just three weeks we’ll fly to London.
Future Farm Updates
We’re flying to London to go to my cousin’s wedding. Sorry to get your hopes up about the future farm. We are currently in the hushed silence waiting period as our Business Plan is being read by the landowners we sent it to. No pressure. No big deal. Thank goodness no one is panicking.
But for real, I have managed, finally, after a long conversation with my mother, been able to obtain some peace on the matter. Noting is getting sorted this week. Or next week. Or honestly even next month. I have now promised myself ‘No decisions until December’, since it seems at this point I’m too fraught to do anything well let alone smartly. And that is pretty freeing.
I’m hopeful for the land in the UK. I have put out feelers for jobs that I can get to help with the visa process (and initial starting-a-business costs). My partner and I have talked about Plan B and Plan C. And none of those plans need a decision now. So if we wind ourselves up over it we’ll be worse equipped to make those choices.
Capitalism wants us to rush. Wants us to believe in scarcity. That if someone else has something it means I can’t have it too. That’s a lie. And I can’t be asked with it.
We’re going to work on other business plans, we’re going to hopefully talk to landowners. We’re going to make something work.
But first rest.
And a bit more squash to harvest.
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here:
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hello all,
Welcome to Scrap Farm, formerly Scrap Kitchen, where I talk about starting a farm while also running a farm.
Why the name change you ask? Or maybe you didn’t. Mostly because, while I love the kitchen, hell I’ve spent most of today there making salves and Paprika, I am actually trying to make a farm. As wonderful as the kitchen is, I’m sure it’s pretty confusing to pretty much anyone trying to find info on farming to see something labelled ‘Kitchen’ that’s actually about ‘Farm’.
Justifications aside, it’s once again been a busy couple of weeks.
I have recovered from my wisdom tooth extraction and have a jawline again (rejoice). My jawline arrived just in time for my partner to leave to go visit his family in California (hello Goodmans!), which left me the solo manager of the farm. This also coincided with the big ol’ Winter Squash harvest. We managed to finish just 6 minutes before the first raindrops fell. So now our bounty of squash are tucked up safe in the greenhouse, curing and thankfully dry.
This week I also gave a Seed Keeping talk/demonstration at Bellville Library. And this time eight people showed up. That's seven more than last time! We talked through selection, collection, cleaning, storage and more. It felt really wonderful to share something I’m passionate about with people who asked lots of questions and were excited to winnow for themselves. I might look in to doing some more seed talks virtually and in person over the winter to keep this knowledge-sharing going. If you can think of a group or business that might be interested in a talk on Seed Keeping, get in touch.
This week we also had a Girl Scout troop out to the farm. Ten or so eight-year-olds were let loose on the tomatoes, they tried the nasturtiums and dragon tongue beans, trailed through the spinach shoots and helped us with our squash harvest. Many tiny hands make light work. It was wonderful to see them try each vegetable, especially since it was reported after that they "don’t usually eat those at home”. One of the greatest perks of this job, especially the U-Pick element is getting to see children interact with where their food comes from. There are many times when a customer will do something heinous (ripping herbs out by the roots or harvesting 50lbs of tomatoes, deciding they don’t want them and HIDING them for us to find a week later), but when I watch a tiny person peer up at pea plants or stroll purposefully towards their favourite vegetable it makes it all worth it.
Aside from the massive harvest and the influx of children, there was little to report on the farm over the past two weeks. The outside tomatoes have died the death and the inside ones are hanging on by a thread. Literally. We trellis them with string. But also it’s a metaphor. The tomatoes in the harsh outdoors die faster because we don’t trip them like we do the inside ones (which we baby, and for good reason). They are left to grow as much as they can before the blight sets in. And boiiii has it set in.
The mornings here have been misty as all heck. A real pea-souper, as they say. Driving in has been like driving into a dream. Some days it doesn’t burn off until the afternoon, but as the last of the summer sun breaks through it gets even prettier.
Our sunflowers have been providing a lot of food for the local birds and more are chattering on them than ever. This time last year two massive murmurations of migrating birds came through and stopped us in our work. Thinking back to the non-Newtonian movement of hundreds of birds in the crisp autumn air is pretty magical. I hope we get to see some again.
In other farm news, the corn has gifted us with huitlacoche. This is a delicious type of fungus that grows out of the corn kernels or off of it’s tassels. In Mexico, it is considered a delicacy and you can purchase it fresh or canned. Sadly it is less well known in the US but it to have it growing on our corn seems like an honour. Fungus abound this week as our King Stropharis/Garden Giant/Wine Cap mushrooms are loving the cooler weather and are springing up from their woodchip home by the dozens. We planted them along the high tunnel in the spring, over the season their mycelium spread and now the rain has brought on flush after flush.
Future Farm Updates
Big movements on this front. Our business plan is officially in and we are scheduling a call with a prospective land partner in about two weeks. It feels too good to be true to even get this far so I don’t want to jinx it by oversharing. Sufficed to say we are excited, the land seems really cool and I have a little kernel of hope lodged betwixt my ribs.
We’ve also been in contact with a lawyer to discuss the finer details of our visa application (as succinctly as possible since lawyers are not cheap) and that will give us the push/advice we need.
It’s only a month before we fly to the Uk and in that time we have to sell a car, get rid of a lot of stuff, get some more info on the visa and ideally work towards getting a land agreement. And we have to do three more weeks of CSA and get the farm ready for winter. It seems improbable. Daunting. And yet we must do it.
So we’re battering down, getting our s**t together, and doing all that.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here:
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hi all,
I’m back on schedule. And more importantly, I can speak again (to read this out). I had my final wisdom tooth out last Thursday and can only just eat toast and stand up. Both of which I do pretty slowly.
Oop, getting ahead of myself.
Welcome to Scrap Kitchen, the newsletter/podcast where I detail the running of a farm (in the US), the starting of a farm (in the UK) and all the mess in between.
If I’m being honest, which I try to be, I have spent very little time on the farm of late. My partner has been keeping the wheels on the thing as I recover. He could do it without me, and yet there is the silly (probably rooted in capitalism and imperialism) feeling that I’m letting him and the team down while staying home. As I recover. From Surgery.
Embarrassing really that the hustle-culture, work till you drop mindset has so permeated, even after all this time. All this purposeful unpicking. But thankfully when I slip back into the ‘grindset’ my partner reminds me that it’s b******t and I need to rest. To be honest in the state I was in I’d be no use to anyone.
Escaping the internal rat race aside, Zachary, my beloved, the man whomst I am doing all this farming with, turned 30 last week!
The big three zero
To celebrate, a lot of his friends came to the farm. We ate venison burgers, beetroot carpaccio, TikTok courgette, kale caesar salad, seared beans, and tabouli. Almost all of it grown (or hunted) on the land. It felt wonderful to cook with the vegetables we laboured over. To meld flavours and marry textures we work with every day. To feed those we care about with food we care about.
It made me want to do more potlucks. To have more opportunities to cook for those around me. To nourish and be nourished.
And my gods to celebrate. What a man! I love him quite a lot.
My Cioci (Polish for Aunt) also got a year older this week! Big fan of the Virgos in my life. Happy birthday to her!
Oh s**t, oh s**t. We also had a whole interview in the local paper. The reporter decided I was a they/they as opposed to a she/they but at least they spelt my name right.
Current Farm Updates
As my first task since standing, I accompanied Zach on a delivery. We dropped off 350 units of Aubergine to a local hospital that runs a CSA scheme for over 400 people. The food hub, out of which the CSA is run, also puts on events for the community; teaching people how to store, process, plant and preserve their produce. Over the winter they also had speakers come in for farmers to keep us up-to-date on health and safety practices (during our less busy time). It’s a pretty cool operation.
To prepare for orders like this we intentionally planned and planted vast amounts of Aubergine. We chose those of similar sizes but varying days to maturity to ensure that we have a consistent supply throughout the season. Within the similar shapes there are various patterns and colours these Aubergine fall into; deep black-purple, white and violet striped, lilac on a summer’s eve. It’s beautiful to see the variety that this plant has to offer.
At the rate they have been growing, we have been harvesting as often as possible. At their peek in August we were harvesting every other day. While tiny Aubergines are delicious that is not the most commercially viable size to harvest them. Thankfully they are equally delicious at full size (about as long as a pair of garden trimmers or a harvest knife). Once harvested they are kept in our Tomato Cooler (a warmer purpose-built cooler that stops Solanaceae from becoming mush in colder temps). If you keep the humidity to a minimum, they can be stored for almost a week (though they are usually sold within a couple of days).
The day before delivery we individually weigh ‘units’ of Aubergine to ensure they are a pound or more. No disappointed customers on our watch. For those under the threshold, they are doubled up to make the correct weight. We also pick out ‘seconds’, Aubergines that are starting to look matte instead of shiny, ones that look white (indicating they are going to seed) and any that have not held up in storage. 350 units later we are ready for delivery.
Simple.
Large orders aside we are preparing for our winter squash harvest. Just three days ago we had the first hint of frost. A flirtation with freezing temperatures overnight.
Thank goodness it happened when it did because we had been busy fixing the sides of the greenhouse which refused to close (a wire had fallen loose). The unclosing sides had been a real problem last week as a massive storm rolled in. Dumping 2.5 inches horizontally into the greenhouse and onto our baby seedlings. The swift clip changes of torrential rain, to overnight chill, to the threat of several 29°C days this week, has not escaped me. Climate change giving us all the options in a two-week period.
Once we survive this hot week, it might just be time. Winter Squash. In all it’s autumnal glory. The delicate timing between giving them as much growth as possible while attached to the plant, but also harvesting in time that night frost doesn’t damage the squash itself. With choices like this one must be decisive.
In other news, we have passed our final seeding week. It is now the 37th week of 2024 (how has that happened so fast?). We planned to finish seeding/planting by week 36. This is mainly so that we can leave with a clear conscience at the end of October knowing the team doesn’t have to do a lot of cleanup/harvest without us. The delicious Hakurei turnips we seeded last week will be harvested the week we fly to the UK for my cousin’s wedding. Which at this point is only 6 weeks away (yikes).
From now on, the only things we will plant are those that are already getting a head start in the greenhouse and maybe some microgreens (as a treat). It feels surreal to be thinking of packing up the year. But in the false Autumn that was the past fortnight, as the mornings clung to darkness for just a little longer each day, it began to feel real. There are plenty of projects to wrap up, and so much left to harvest, but the work is slowing. And it is glorious. Rest, when it is possible, is delicious.
Future Farm Updates
Here we go!
Thanks to the phenomenal South West Land Match scheme (and absolute top don Rachael) we have made first contact with landowners. Potential hosts for our farm next year.
We have sent them two intro paragraphs. A 38-page business plan. Our combined CV. And a very earnest Cover Letter. And all of our hopes and dreams. No biggie.
As we wait for a response, or at least as we begin outreach, we are also looking into Immigration lawyers. I have a couple of good leads (thanks to my mother) for people to ask, very concisely, because time is money, what exactly we will need to submit the visa. To prove we intended to earn above the threshold for application.
Things are looking up. And October is coming on fast.
We are not, I may say, putting all our eggs in one basket. There are other sites on the Land Match Site, for which we are adapting the business plan. We are ready to think about other options.
But also, Autumn is a time for dreaming. For the cold wind-stirrings of change. In this time, as darkness descends, I am taking a moment to dream a little. To think seriously and honestly about the farm we will make. Not just the logistics of an international move but also the feeling that starting something this big will muster. And (as something to work towards) the feeling of what it might be like to have built something beautiful. To have woven it into the community, to feed and provide for and share knowledge with those around us. How we want the farm to feel.
It reminds me of a wonderful podcast by Becca Piastrelli as she sat in the gestational phase of moving to the countryside. She envisioned the plants she wanted to grow, the events she wanted to hold. It was a gentle dream that she trusted her listeners with. An honour to hold it between my ears.
Now is a time for hope and visions. And the moment we get an email back, for honest and hard work. And I can’t wait.
Talk to you all later
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hello, I’m here. I’m fine. I’m tired.
Welcome to Scrap Kitchen, the Podcast/Newsletter where I (intermittently) talk about running a farm, starting a farm and growing good food in this mixed-up climate.
For a moment there, as my partner and I ventured North to drink wine and swim in lakes and not work for 4 days, it felt like Autumn. The air chilled, the leaves began their tantalising dance of changing colours and I got a glimpse of rest.
And now it’s 32°C.
Will there ever be a newsletter/podcast instalment where I don’t talk about how the climate is changing? Not bloody likely.
But it has been a while. A damn while. A long few months of radio silence.
Almost so long it is awkward to come back here and write, this, to speak it. But also not because my dad keeps asking when the next ‘Scrappy Kitchen’ will be, so I’m doing it for him.
Question number 1: Does anyone know any immigration lawyers for the UK?
We’ve had a setback. Or as I want to call it, a switchback. Like we’re climbing up a mountain pass and it’s just too steep to go straight up. So zig-zagging, at times it feels like there is no end or reason to the hairpin turns, but eventually, when you crest the hill, when you break through the clouds, you’ll see what you’ve climbed.
Anyways. We’ve had a switchback.
My partner and I do not meet the financial requirements for a family visa. It’s as simple as that. I’ve been joking that we just can’t read and somehow misconstrued the minimum cash-saving requirement. But really it’s purposefully vague. Obtuse.
To be allowed into the country you need to prove that our combined income will be £29k a year. Which honestly was (by pure coincidence) the amount we were planning on earning in our second year. But certainly not in our first. We have some cash savings but not enough to make up for £29k a year for 3 years (I mean, who has that much, honestly).
So now we need proof. More than a business plan. More than all our bank accounts and texts going back several years (so that they can see we are in fact a real couple). And honestly, we need advice.
The plan is as follows: Submit a business plan. Get a land agreement. Set up UK LLC. Get lawyer to look it all over. Get any extra paperwork. Apply for Visa. Get Visa. Move everything we own to the UK. Find flat, get driver’s licences. Farm.
Easy.
Easy.
It’s certainly not happening before November.
Oh and at the same time keep the current farm running and set them up for the transition of us leaving. No big deal.
So I ask again: Does anyone know an immigration lawyer?
Current Farm Updates
We are in fruit season. In one day we managed to harvest 240 pints of Cherry Tomatoes and a total of 600 lbs. In. One. Day.
That’s not to mention the Aubergine and Peppers pumping out fruit like nobody's business. Every day that we work there is some form of harvest. Which is wonderful, abundant, exhausting.
As I write this we are entering week 35 of the year. It is wild that we are that far into 2024. Within the plan that we made last winter, which details the crops we will plant, when, where, how many, predicted harvest etc. we were looking to finish planting everything by week 36. That means the final round of Asian greens is already starting. The onion seeds we collected last week are going to be germ-tested and used for green onion seedlings. It means everything in the ground just has to last a couple more months.
This time of year is also a great one for seed saving. Over the season we have been leaving little painters-tape notes on which plants are looking best of the tomatoes, which fruited the earliest, which are standing up to disease. Over the next week, I will be selecting fruits from the hardiest plants. I’ll also be looking for fruits that are the right size, shape and colour, to maintain the distinct varieties of each tomato. Then I’ll be fermenting the seeds in their own juices for a few days to imitate the digestion process. Then comes washing and drying. Easy as that you have saved tomato seeds.
For farmers who are teetering on the edge of burnout at this time of year (vibes) the idea of saving seed can seem like just another thing to do. Another unending task. But the reward far outshines the work of it. The tomato seeds we saved last year have produced the strongest plants this year, they were earlier to fruit and seem to hold up better to our methods of trellising. By saving seed we are literally selecting plants that do best in our farm conditions.
The loss of saving seeds is relatively new. Only in the past 100 years have farmers stopped selecting their own best plants. Sometimes it has been made out to be too difficult, time or expertise-wise, but that is a straight-up lie. After spending months with these plants the farmer knows them better than anyone. Who better to pick the best ones? The only barrier is knowing how.
I digress. That’s just one of the small tasks in making the farm a little more self-contained. But mostly at this point in the season we are reaping the benefits of our hard work and keeping the plants alive for a couple more months.
Oh and itching to harvest Winter Squash.
Winter Squash is a trick one to harvest. In places that frost earlier, like where we trained in Colorado the first frost is used to kill off the plants, the squash are harvested (usually in one day) and the left to cure over several months. The curing process is seen as their stem turning from green to woody brown. Inside the squash, other changes are taking place; the flesh becomes a darker orange and the BRIX reading increases over time as the natural sugars build up. Curing helps winter squash be stored for long periods of time. And boy am I ready for winter squash recipes. The most autumnal of flavours.
But first, the plants must die back. And the harvested squash must cure. Farming is patience, yet again.
Future Farm Updates
This is the real reason for my absence. My partner Zach and I have now completed our 40+ page business plan for our farm. It has a name. It has the shape of an actual business. It has countless spreadsheets (9 per location we’re tailoring it to, I s**t you not). It has heft. And pictures. And it has consumed us.
But currently, it is being looked over before we send it off. It will be sent off via the South West Land Match scheme run by the Landworkers Alliance. It’s a hopeful hurry-up-and-wait kind of time.
Aside from the gut-punch switchback of the Visa process, we’re in surprisingly good shape to actually begin proposing our business to people. Which is a nice place to be. Finally.
We set ourselves a deadline for the business plan to be finished (the week before we went up North) and managed to get it done in time.
So now comes the adapting. Each of the sites we are applying to has different markets, different potential customers and varying site details. Once our initial plan gets the OK we’re jumping on adapting it to the 4 other sites we’re interested in.
It’s a hopeful, heart-in-throat kind of time.
Thanks for sticking with it.
I mean it about that lawyer.
See you next time
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hi y’all,
Welcome back to Scrap Kitchen the newsletter/podcast where I chat to you about my endeavours to run a farm, start a farm and stay sane in the process.
You may have noticed, eagle-eyed followers, that it has been nearly 3 weeks since my last update. If you haven’t noticed, or you’re new here, welcome. And now you know. My reasons for this absence are multiple and various; the heat, an anniversary, big projects and more heat.
Last Monday my partner and I (with whom I am running the current farm, and am trying to start our own farm) celebrated our three-year anniversary. One of the volunteers on the farm shared some advice with us that her neighbour told her.
Birthdays will happen no matter what you do, but anniversaries you have to work for. Celebrate accordingly.
So we did.
We took the bus into Detroit (gotta love a public transport system that works), we stayed in an old hotel, walked our way around in 40°C heat, scooted to the newly refurbished station and capped the night off with one of the best meals of my life (and a pumping wine bar on a Monday night). It was wonderful. It was glorious.
Having time off is glorious. Having time off with this dude that I love so dearly is even better.
So that was one reason.
The other main reason is the 35°C days all last week, the pressing, cloying heat snatching any motivation that dared to exist outside of essential tasks. We rose before the sun, at about 5:40, in work for 7, harvest, cull cucumber beetles, trellis, trim, and tap out at 2 pm when the heat becomes unbearable.
We’re not alone in this. Between this last May and this one 6.3 billion people experienced a month or more of abnormally high temperatures.
Yes, of course, it made me climate anxious. At the front of my mind was the heat India has been facing. The wet-bulb temps. The 50°C streaks on the map, a black colour denoting the blistering heat, so hot it surpasses red. Like the bitter coals of a fire. And it’s worse than that, worse than an infographic, or stylised map. There are people in Mungeshpur and Rajasthan feeling that. Living in that. There are people not surviving it.
Part of the brutality of the climate crisis is that the countries least responsible are bearing the brunt. Those along the equator, living in increasingly uninhabitable conditions, faring the worst. While those in the global north, whose “industry” and imperialism caused this catastrophe get more manageable effects. A reduced sentence. Injustice abound.
This is not to say that the heat here was any less dangerous. That the baking concrete of Detroit didn’t serve to highlight how cities become hot houses and those redlined and underprivileged (purposefully so) will fare the worst. Injustice nestles itself between tree-free streets and in undrinkable water.
When you’re in the middle of a field, the sun beaming down, when the shade is still stifling and you realise you are drenched in sweat, it’s hard to look outwards. To not be in the animal husk of your body, to be present. But at the same time it is so easy to feel the looming heat. The locking in of 1.5°C of warming. At best. At best!
And we are lucky enough to be able to leave. To prioritise the wellness of the team. The exploited migrant workforce certainly does not get to call it quits in this temperature. Our farm isn’t like that but it is also not the norm for this country.
All this to say, farm workers are on the front lines of the climate crisis.
And I recognise every day that I am one of the privileged ones.
Current Farm Updates
As my beloved has been saying “It’s wonderful weather for plants. Terrible for humans.”
We have been seeing a flush of all our summer fruits, bursting into dark-green being.
The tomatoes are days away from their first fruit. The plant that will produce it was grown from last year’s seed and has been earmarked for seed saving again this year. Just another reminder of the power of seed, of selecting and breeding crops that grow well in your conditions. That in growing them (indeed of storing seeding in some bank, where it has no chance to adapt), we are stabilising the varieties against an ever-changing climate.
So Tomatoes are on the horizon.
As are peppers, cucumbers, dahlias, cabbage and more.
This year we spent the winter planning out the crops with the intention of fulfilling more wholesale orders. Like everything else, wholesale has its upsides and downsides. On the upside, you can make a good chunk of change from selling 300 bunches of green onions. Not only that but having an outlet or two that can take a vast quantity of produce is good for not letting what you grow go to waste. Conversely, there is a drop in price that you can ask for when it comes to wholesale, the quantity necessitates a discount. It might be a large sum of money but you’re getting less per unit. Ah, choices choices.
Anyways at the start of this year, we decided to prioritise wholesale orders. There are two large CSAs (veg box schemes) in the area, with 250 and 370 shares apiece. Our aim was to grow enough to be able to deliver one large order once per week of either green onions, Asian greens or kale/chard. We based our crop plan around this.
Mostly we have been able to stick to the plan, with a good-sized order heading out each week. But there have been hiccoughs. The heat has caused the Asian greens to bolt (start producing flowers) so they had to be harvested earlier than expected, thus reducing our yield. The chard was absolutely ravaged by Deer, not once but thrice. And that’s not taking into account the market. There are other local farms also supplying these schemes, they might already have a supply for Asian greens that week, or kale, or whatever.
Where I’m going with all this is that we are on track for our plans but the weather is as fickle as the market. Just another of the realities that farms and small businesses must deal with. Another choice to make.
On a lighter note, the strawberries we planted this spring are producing berries. The intense heat and evening-break thunderstorms have agreed with them. We are still open for U-Pick which is a great way to connect with the local community.
Not only that but we managed to plant our field of winter squash. All 5 acres of it. By hand. In the rain.
It was actually a wonderful drizzle that was very cooling. And the fresh tilled field (one of the only places we do till on the farm) was a pleasure to walk in bare foot. To measure out 1.5m in steps and place carefully two fat little seeds into the waiting earth. A good way to spend a morning. And now their round cotyledons (first leaves) are popping out of the dirt. Next will come the weeding, then the unruly tangle of vines.
The planting of the winter squash field, which will be U-Pick Pumpkins and squash come autumn, was our last big project of the season. We had the tour of 750 people (a hectic but fun day), we planted all our high-value crops (tomatoes, peppers, aubergine etc), we survived asparagus season ( no more 7-day weeks). So here we are, out the other side. Ready to reap the rewards of several months of work.
From now on our weeks fall into a predictable pattern. As comforting as the sound of train wheels or the consistent patter of rain at night.
Wednesday, harvest. Thursday, trim and trellis our tomatoes and cucumbers. Friday, Harvest. Saturday, sell at the farmstand, coordinate volunteers for big tasks and distribute our CSA. Sunday, harvest wholesale orders.
It’s doable. It’s rewarding. It’s time to ease into the rest of the year.
Future Farm Updates
With more time on our hands (finally) we have been able to get back to the business of finding land. We’ve reached out for information on serval sites offered by the South West Land Match and are currently researching each one to find potential clients/partners/businesses within each area.
It’s pretty exciting to imagine all the possibilities these spaces hold. To try to picture what life you might lead there, who you might work with and how you might feel. Then to think critically, business-ly about how you might make that life. What you need to get ready, to get good at.
We are also weeks away from submitting the Visa application (just waiting on an updated passport).
Everything is both coming together and up in the air all at once. It’s a time of great potential and lots of spreadsheets.
Hopefully, soon we will be able to submit our plans for review by the landowners and get into conversation about how we might work together. And when we do I will keep you updated.
For now, we shall sit in the fertile moment of unending possibility.
For now, we will enjoy the manageable 27°C rainy day.
Later,
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hi All,
Welcome to Scrap Kitchen. The newsletter/podcast where I document managing a farm in the US, while trying to find a future farm in the UK. Where I find joy in the privilege of getting paid to work outside while the planet burns around us.
Sounds a bit dire, doesn’t it? And at times it feels a bit dire. With temperatures reaching over 50°C in India (reminiscent of the horrific opening chapter of Ministry for the Future), 14,000 acres of current wildfires in California and the ongoing genocide in both the Congo and Palestine.
I’m not here to tell you that farming, regenerative or otherwise will save us (though to some extent I believe it will). In the same way I think voting alone, when in both my countries the candidates are so blegh (and by this I mean Labour is racist, no longer supports labourers and is a general disgrace, but what option do we have, divide the vote and let the Tories win again?), won’t save us.
But I have found, and this is just personal experience, that the climate anxiety subsides. Hell, the general anxiety that I feel at the state of the world has been somewhat helped by physically doing something about it. By growing food, day in and day out. Smoke, or rain or almost non-existent snow. Through last year’s drought to this year’s early heat. The only thing that has kept me from panicking is having hands in the dirt and physically seeing people light up when they pick a tomato or try a turnip for the first time. In knowing that what we feed people wasn’t grown at the expense of the land we steward or the people that grow it (big up a living wage). And for that, I will always be grateful.
Current Farm Updates
By the end of this week, I was feeling pretty exhausted, as was the whole team. We have been pushing our way through May and the end seems almost in sight. I mean technically it’s June, but still, we have two more big projects to go. For now we can celebrate thousands of plants in the ground, weeded, watered, fed, and tended. And so so much harvesting.
In total, I think we harvested over 2800 lbs of Asparagus.
And we sold every single stem.
Now comes the cyclical nature of farming. Suddenly it isn’t Asparagus season any more. We opened up our 4 acres of Strawberries for U-Pick this weekend. In poured the public and suddenly it is Strawberry Season.
Now come (hopefully) six weeks of people picking luscious red berries, of children dressed as strawberries, their faces covered with the spoils of the field. There’s a running joke that we should weigh children before and after they “pick” strawberries. But really, how much can a five-year-old eat? And what could be better for showing them where their food comes from?
While some part of me was dreaming of the day when we would have consecutive days off, another part of me is already mourning the end of Asparagus. To nourish the part of me that will want Asparagus in a few months I have saved several pounds of seconds (unsellable flowering stems) and frozen it for a later date.
Side note: I was going to say to combat this, which made me pause. How much of our language is warfare? How insidious the military-industrial complex, the ongoing colonialist values, that instead of thinking of saving food for a later date as a gift to one’s future self it is instead an act of combat. An extension of war. To fight a feeling. To quash a need. I’m working on changing how I write, and by extension how I think.
Side Side Note: Thinking on the violence in the language I use then brings me back to the incredible breakdown by ismatu gwendolyn of i start with the recognition that we are at war, conversations with Toni Cade Bambara. In it, Bambara explains that our responsibility to ourselves and others is to tell the truth, and within that truth is power. War is ongoing; the war on drugs, on People of Colour, the war on the poor and working class, the control and use of resources. We are still as at war as we were when she said this is 1983. To not recognise that every day is a fallacy. An untruth.
Bringing the side notes together: Both these things can be true at once, that we are at war and also seeking peace. To not acknowledge this war, or an ongoing genocide say, is burying your head in the sand. At the same time, you can work towards peace, in your thoughts, in your communities, in your actions that stand up for those in active marginalisation, in the way you spend your time and your money and your life.
All of this from waiting to ‘combat’ a future need for asparagus.
I digress.
This time of year is one of rapid growth. it feels like if you look away for a second a bed can get overrun with weeds. A full cabbage can spring up overnight. Asparagus can grow up to 8 inches per day (thank f**k that’s over).
We have two more tasks on the horizon, to plant 5 acres of winter squash and pumpkins by hand and to have a farm tour of 750 people descend on us next weekend. No big deal.
Last year we seeded that field of squash amidst the smoke of Canada wildfires but the weeds got away from us (the eco weeder was not repaired in time) and our work was for naught. That was somewhat of a blow if I’m being honest. This year we are hoping to refine our methods, straighter lines, quicker seeding (no bending only burying with your foot) and the Eco-Weeder is ready to go. We’re hopeful for the thousands of pounds of pumpkins and winter squash that will spring up from that patch.
As for the tour, bring it on I guess. We’re working on better signage for the U-Pick block and have gotten together a farm map and brochure so we should be set. Hopefully. Maybe.
This week I’m looking forward to our first tomatoes which had been flirting with ripeness for the past week. We might also be doing our first wholesale order of Green Onions (hopefully 350 bunches). Oh and we harvested a lot of kale last week which was glorious! The chard is still struggling under the deer pressure, and who can blame them it is delicious. And the Peas can finally be harvested (though mostly they are a snack as we walk past them). Lots to come. Lots to do. Can’t wait, honestly.
Future Farm Updates
We’re currently talking with an incubator scheme in the south of England and are hoping to have a call with them soon. Then, if we fit well, submit a business plan to them this month.
We are still working on the land match scheme business plan and now we won’t be working 200 hours this month we might actually have more time to do it. The unions were really on to something when they fought for weekends, am I right ladies?
I’ve also been in touch with various contacts sent my way (thanks Mum) who run farming collectives or their own farms. But I am well aware that this time of year is the WORST for farmers so am not expecting fast replies for another month or so. Maybe more. Usually, things fully calm down in September. Ah, cyclical living.
Anyways, we are on the crest of the body/mind-consuming work of our current farm and looking forward to having a little more time to work towards the future farm.
Ok, I’ve gone on long enough.
See y’all later.
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hello all,
It’s been a moment. Well, honestly it’s only been two weeks. But they certainly feel like a long while.
This is Scrap Kitchen, the podcast/newsletter where I detail the managing of a farm while planning for next year’s farm (one of our very own).
I feel it important to say, because I am not an island and also because interconnectivity keeps us alive, that I am not doing this alone. My beloved and I are working towards both these goals. Towards the growing of food, and managing of a team this year. And towards the creation of our future farm, one in the UK.
This was made most apparent to me, this Thursday when I fell ill. I mean like an 18th-century woman on a feinting couch kind of ill. The humors (a sore throat and a headache) took me. My beloved, my partner in all this, went in and planted 8000 strawberries without me. Was I jealous and a little weepy because I wanted to plant strawberries, work the waterwheel planter and also be able to stand? Yes. Was I also immensely grateful that I’m with someone who can do it all without me? Absolutely.
My rambling point is that I don’t want to do this alone. I don’t want to put out the idea that I’m doing this alone. Not for one second do I want to pretend that we will be able to start a farm without help and support. This is not an ask for money, more a statement of interconnectedness
Let people help you.
Let yourself be helped.
Easier said than done. But worth it all the same.
Current Farm Updates
Over the past week, we have planted a total of 11,000 strawberries. For those of you listening you can probably hear the exhaustion in my voice. And I was only there for the final 3,000.
We have also managed to get all ten beds of tomatoes in the ground. This is roughly 500 plants, but also it’s an absolute faff. Mostly because we don’t have 5’ landscape fabric.
Landscape fabric is plastic that you put down to protect against weeds. It is pinned in place with little (rust-covered) metal staples. When it works well it is a joy, preventing us from having to weed our most valuable crops, devoting more time to their care and attention. When it doesn’t work well it is a hassle; it can blow away (and crush plants) if not pinned down correctly, it can leave room for weeds to thrive and outcompete crops if not put on tight enough and somehow, despite measuring, it is never the 100’ length of our beds. Not once, never. Add into that it is plastic, you have to contend with using a petrochemical product of hundreds of person-hours to keep a spot weeded. It’s a calculation every farmer must do. And if you told me what side I would fall on (5 years ago when I was the most militantly zero waste) I would have laughed.
But when that fabric works it is a dream! Choir of angels, sunlight from a cloud, glorious.
But here’s the kicker, it doesn’t come in 5’ strips. It comes in 4’ and 6’.
Our beds are 5’ from centre to centre.
This means if we want to cover all the exposed dirt and the paths, to but the fabric as close as possible up against the plants, then we need to get crafty. We alternate our 4’ and our 6’ pieces. It works well, but laying fabric in between plantings is a slow task.
None of this is to say that it isn’t worth it. When we told the team we were going to be reducing the exposed soil under the tomato plants they were genuinely relieved. Last year we spent countless hours pulling weeds that threatened to swamp our field tomatoes. It’s very worth it. The problem-solving is fun and all.
This is more to point out that we have so many small decisions, so many intricacies while farming that add up to hours of work created or saved. We have so many checks and balances; plastic vs people’s time.
And this is just landscape fabric.
This is just tomatoes.
We haven't even talked about pre-burning holes (and I shant because I can feel people already getting bored with my chat (if I’m wrong and you want more drop a comment)).
Farming is decision upon decision. It’s making do. It’s solving problems.
And with each moment I love it more.
But all this to say we planted tomatoes.
This coming week is the big push, crunch time if you will.
We have to plant summer squash, tat soi, green onions, aubergine and peppers. This week. Or else. Wish us luck.
For those of you asking we are STILL harvesting over 150# of Asparagus every day. Even Mondays and Tuesdays, our “weekends”. It’s looking like it’s slowing down but that wont mean it’s stopping for a good couple weeks. So all we need to do is see it though. To ride out the storm.
Thankfully, U-Pick has opened up for Asparagus and people picked over 147# this Saturday alone. That’s 147# we didn’t have to pick ourselves. But more than that it’s the wonderful beginning of people coming to the farm. The general public engaging with the dirt, with the growth, with the source of their food. It’s o great to be a part of.
I also managed, just in time, to print several UPick Stamp books (which if you have been listening for a while you may recall me going on about). Children seem really excited to stamp off the vegetables they’ve picked. So it was more than worth the frantic letterpress printing and folding activities.
Future Farm Updates
In our downtime (which has been two afternoons this week, as we have come in to work on both our days off to pick Asparagus), we have managed to push forward on our business plan. We have started the nitty-gritty of how much of what we will try to sell roughly where and how much we will need to sell to survive. And if this feels slow, it is, I know. But we’re also living it. Our writing time is snatched between exhaustion, everyday farming and the semblance of a social life. We’re getting there.
We are also looking into incubator schemes throughout the south of England. One of which is in Devon and we’re aiming to continue conversations with as well as submit a business plan to ASAP. If not there then the land match scheme will be getting a business plan before June. Hopefully. Maybe.
The visa application also looms. That and the thousands of plants that need planting this week. No biggie.
We’re getting there. Slow and steady.
So that’s the update, the plan, the low down.
Nothing major.
See you next week.
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hi all,
We’re trying something a little different this week. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to tell. But we’re trying it anyways. Instead of me stream of consciousness-ing into a voice note and transcribing, I’m flipping the script. Or more accurately I’m writing one. Whether or not I can read this well is another matter. Yikes.
Anyhow, welcome to Scrap Kitchen. The Podcast/Newsletter where I detail the process of managing a farm (with my beloved) while we plan for next year’s farm (in the UK), and how in the hell we go about doing that. If that sounds interesting, fun or like it will be a trainwreck you just can’t look away from, consider subscribing.
If it doesn’t, no hard feelings, but maybe read/listen to a little more of this post and then let me have it in the comments section. Or whatever it is kids do these days.
Some housekeeping: Scrap Kitchen will now be coming out on Wednesdays. 9 am EST is what I’m aiming for. This change is mostly because my work week has adjusted. We are now working Weds-Sunday so that the farmstand and U-Pick can be open. And thus my writing/reading/speaking must be adjusted too.
In personal life updates I have been snatching time between the unending Asparagus harvest and the demands of the season to be a Beta Reader for a friend’s manuscript. Over the winter I wrote about 65k words of a little story and have now sent it off to various people so they can tear it apart (and hopefully make it better). In all honesty, I had quite literally forgotten I had done this. Was too busy with the farm itself and reading someone else manuscript. Which is actually ideal for when the absolutely eviscerated manuscript returns to me. Or at least I hope it will be. All this to say, I’ve been busy (so busy I forgot I wrote something book-length lol).
Current Farm Updates
You might have heard it in the frantic tone, or the otentios words of last week but Asparagus is here. It’s back, baby. For the next 6 weeks, the farm team and I will be harvesting the 3 acres of Asparagus on the southern side of our cultivation area.
If you haven’t harvested asparagus before, the process is pretty simple. Wait until it’s longer than your hand, reach down with said hand, grab the stalk and SNAP. Put the Asparagus into a bucket. Repeat. And yes, it really does grow like its a practical joke.
Not only is the Asparagus keeping us busy but so is the opening of the CSA and FArmstand. We now have over 50 people signed up to pick up vegetables every week. These shares have to be harvested, rinsed, bagged, packed and handed out. All while we sell the spare vegetables at the Farmstand. The way the Asparagus has been growing, we have plenty spare.
The start of the CSA, which will continue uninterrupted for the next 24 weeks, has got my partner and me thinking about our future farm. About how, where and to whom we wish to sell vegetables. There are so many things to consider; do we do delivery? Do we allow flexibility (where people have a prepaid card and select what veg they want each week)? Do we keep things simple and do the same share for everyone (and thus intimidate people with new vegetables, or worse overload them and eventually waste veg)? Do we collaborate with other farms? Where would people pick up if we don’t deliver (local schools, markets, libraries)?
And that’s just one element of the farm.
Which then raises the question: Why even do a CSA?
At least for that, we have an answer.
When someone purchases a CSA share from their local farm they aren’t just buying vegetables. They are investing in the future of the farm. A literal farm share. They are putting their money behind local agriculture, and in return, they get future vegetables. How very stock market.
But they aren’t just getting vegetables or the promise of them, they are staking a claim in the farm and its produce. I care enough about this farm to commit to them for a season. This sense of connection, fostered over time lets people get to know that farm, their local region and what is seasonally available.
In return, the farmer gets a sense of security that is sorely lacking in most agricultural interactions. The farmer knows that people who have paid ahead will eat what is produced. This can be planned for. Guaranteed 50 lettuce heads a week already sold is a weight off any farmer’s shoulders. Not only that but purchasing a CSA share in the early season allows farmers to work without ‘earning’ to begin with.
The spring is a time when you are planting, prepping and generally getting the plants/farm ready to grow. It’s not a bountiful time of harvest, not usually. So how does a farmer pay their workers? How do they pay themselves?
More often than not, they get into debt. The average farm in America is $1.3m in debt. Let the enormity of that number settle into your bones.
Of course, I have some caveats. This is industrial, conventional, chemical agriculture. They already exploit their workers, they already make measly margins. But if this is what it’s like for state-sanctioned farms, those supported by grain subsidies and expensive chemical intervention, imagine how rough it is for less conventional farmers.
This is not the kind of farm we want to run. Not by a long shot.
To avoid crushing debt, to grow for people, not feedlots, you need have a little community buy-in. And startup capital (there go our savings). CSA’s help with this. A tricky time for small farmers when they struggle to have the capital for the new season. Along with assured customers at the other end.
On the customer’s side, CSA’s work out cheaper in the long run. The contents are often worth much more than the share itself (not just because the farmer is grateful for the initial support), since CSA’s allow farmers to distribute abundance, to give back when they have more.
All this to say, look for a local CSA. Via Community Supported Agriculture in the UK and Local Harvest in the US. Sign up today.
In other farm news, we have one more team member starting soon. We’ve also planted all our Brassicas, thanks to a local Girl Scout troop. Our tomatoes are planted in the tunnels and are ticketing to outgrow their pots and be planted in the great outdoors. We’re waiting on some cold nights to pass but then those babies are going in the ground.
We also have our ARCHES UP. That was me shouting. Joy. Excitement. Fear that my butterfly blue peas are not germinating well at all. But no matter. The Arches are up, ready to be stocked with funky cucumbers (Salt and Pepper, Bothbys Blonde, Lemon and Cucuamelons) and stunning runner beans.
The farm is really shaping up. Each block is uncovered from its winter occultation to be planted full the moment it sees the sun. But on the horizon, this week, in fact, we will be getting a delivery of 11,000 frozen strawberry plants. All they need is thawing, then planting. Easy.
May is a big month. Just like with the squash bugs, it’s crush or be crushed.
Future Farm Update
This is it, I’m saying it. We will have a business plan in to the Landmatch Scheme by the end of the month so-help-me-god. Is this the crunch time of the year? Yes. Is this when we also need to start getting a Visa? Yes. Is it a lot? Also Yes.
But we can also do it. So that’s fine.
Mostly we’re chugging through the financials at the moment, in the snatched hours between farming and having a life. And we shall keep on trucking until the deed is done.
So that’s it, that’s all.
I’ll see you all on the flipside (next Wednesday).
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hi Everyone.
Welcome to Scrap Kitchen, the podcast/newsletter where I start a farm while managing a farm (while thinking about farms all the time). And then I tell you about it.
I'm not doing this alone, I'm doing this with my partner. With a farm team and supportive family and friends and boss/mentor. It's not just me. I needed to state that straight up.
This episode is the 10th, I wanted to call it April Rains. For the people listening, I hope that you can hear the bird song out my window. Weather-wise it's actually super muggy, not refreshing and rainy. It got to like 28°C over the past day or so, yet it's like overcast and somewhat sticky.
These kinds of conditions make me think about a book that I read once called Friend of the Earth. Basically, a man keeping a millionaire’s menagerie of animals alive during like the climate apocalypse. Honestly, wasn't the best book but T. C. Boyle’s descriptions of wet, damp, yellow/grey/brown weather feel spot on. Sometimes when the weather feels like this I get all tangled in what’s to come.
Ok, actually looking down, I’m currently wearing brown trousers and a yellow top so that completely isn't helping
Weather chat aside (but I am a farmer so what did you expect), it’s generally quite nice out. Spring has properly sprung here in Michigan. There are lilacs just about to pop on the trees. The magnolias are finishing up flowering. Redbud trees are budding everywhere (how very apt, but not very red).
On the farm, a lot of brush was cleared and a little patch of garlic mustard was kindly left behind. This is with the intention of doing a weed walk next week; to show anyone who visits the farm what weeds they can eat (Dandelion, Stinging Nettles, Garlic Mustard, Mullein, Dead Nettles, Chickweed, Burdock and more).
So I'm very excited about that.
In other news, I'm getting a couple of poems published, or they have already been published, in Moonday Mag and the Queer Trans Magic Zine.
That's it on personal news.
I didn't do one of these Scrap Kitchens last week because we worked all day last Sunday at a Farm and Garden event the library put on (in honour of Earth Day). My beloved and I set up a little stand, promoted the farm’s CSA program and proffered Turnip slices to willing attendees. Because of this we got to witness several people try turnips for the first time and several people changed their minds about turnips before our very eyes. Whether or not they were faking it, who knows. But Hakurei Turnips are amazing. Known for altering opinions.
The event got me thinking about why we do this. Why do we brave weird weather? Why we keep lifting, carrying, bending, building?
Sure, some of it is watching people try a vegetable for the first time. But another big part is hearing a story or a recipe, a yarn about how someone’s family cooked vegetables. The new dawn of recognition as they spot a long-forgotten ingredient at the farmstand. Something entangled in their childhood. So then they tell you just how their mother made it. That’s a pretty good reason to me.
Another great one is seeing the transformation, especially in the farm team. In the team members who have returned this year, how much more confident they are, how much more questioning, how much faster at planting lettuce. It’s amazing to get to witness. They end up asking, why do we do it this way? I've been reading this book. Why do we do this? Why does this person do that? I truly appreciate how much effort they're putting into learning.
The main reason why we do, why we want to do this, is to feed people. Properly.
Our food system is pretty broken. If you're not part of the solution then you're part of the problem. In a less guilt-riddled sense, the work is wildly rewarding. To change a piece of land. To provide for the community you are within. To tie yourself to it in a tangible way (quite literally feeding people). That is rewarding in and of itself.
Not only that but localising yourself, opens you up to really learn an area. When you see the food that it grows every day, the work that’s gone in.
Yeah, just a lot of gratitudes innit.
Current Farm Update
On Friday, we planted over 1.5k plants. Mostly Kale, Chard, Collards and Cabbages.
We had to wait until Friday to plant because there was a big harsh frost on Wednesday night and then a baby frost (it only just got below 0°C) on Thursday evening. Yet now, it’s 10°C at night. Climate Change! Ok, I promise, no more weather.
Not only did we plant all our full-season Brassicas on Friday we also potted up (transplanted little seedlings into bigger pots) 400 plants! Every stage of plants got shunted along to the next stage. Small ones into bigger pots, bigger ones into the great outdoors. Now all our Peppers, Aubergines and Tomatoes have enough soil to last until they are planted for good. They already look greener for it.
In less than one week our CSA begins. In just five short days, customers will descend on the farm for their first pickup of the season’s vegetables. Whether we are ready, or not.
Truthfully I think we're pretty set for having enough vegetables and enough variety. But still, the radishes are not doing well...We were hoping to include some in our first share.
These are the problems one faces with farming.
My radishes are doing s**t. The climate's losing its mind. The usual.
In terms of the future farm, there's not much to report. It has been a pretty hectic couple of weeks. We technically had one day off in that time. So rest is the number one order of business.
But my partner and I have found out about $5 Mimosas at a local bakery and have made a plan for tomorrow. Our schedule has now switched to Wednesday to Sunday (to allow us to have the farmstand open all weekend). Which means a lot more time for weekday Mimosas. But also it should give us time to work a bit more on our plan. Especially this week when we have a long weekend now which is wonderful and necessary.
Oh, how could I forget? The asparagus is popping!
For anyone who hasn't seen how asparagus grows, it looks fake but it is not only delicious but real. Once it comes in (grow up, technically), we will be picking asparagus for two hours every morning for the next month or so. Personally, I am very excited for it to be popping up and yet it also feels like gearing up for a marathon. The season is really underway. Rest while you can, and all that.
Alright, that's pretty much it.
I hope y’all have a wonderful week
See you on the flip side.
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hello and welcome back to another episode of Scrap Kitchen.
This is the podcast/newsletter where I talk about running a farm while starting one, while navigating climate chaos. It's pretty fun if you're interested in any of those things and if you're not, it's probably quite boring.
This episode is the ninth so far and I'm going to be calling it Solarpunk.
The reason I didn't record an episode last week was that my partner and I (along with some colleagues) went south to Ohio to see the solar eclipse. That took a large chunk of last weekend’s time. And boy, was it wonderful. 100% worth it!
In the midst of the eclipse, I saw the corona and had a big moment where I wondered what will I be doing in 22 years for the next one (or 20 years, or whenever it is). Anyway, that took priority over my time last recording time. No ragrets.
So since then, I have been doing several little Solarpunk-y things.
For those of you unfamiliar with the idea of Solarpunk, it's a play on the idea of steampunk or cyberpunk.
Steampunk is like Edwardian-esque technology, but everything has steam. Think Treasure Planet, the movie (which was a viiiibe). There's a great book that's like Egyptian Steampunk with Magic called Dead Djinn in Cairo, which I would highly recommend. But all other steampunk I find kind of...Mid. Edwardian values and gloomy outlooks abound.
Then there’s cyberpunk. Think dark alleyways, bright neon lights and, you know, a future where corporations know everything and it's always raining. Blade Runner/ Do Androids Dream is the perfect example of this.
Then comes the hope. Something that I'm forcing myself to read more of, trying to give myself better futures to imagine. To envision pathways to them. Solarpunk futures.
These encompass the idea of solar-powered/renewable technology combined with nature-forward thinking. Personally agree with all of the ideas of Solarpunk, we don’t need to replace farmers with robots (we just need to pay workers better to do “low-skill” jobs). Not only that but ‘toil’ and hard work are something that a lot of people seek. They want their efforts to go into something tangible. I digress, it's basically using existing technology combined with ancient/Indigenous knowledge and respect for the planet to stop all from dying in climate catastrophe. Pretty fun stuff.
To help myself imagine these futures I have been reading a lot of Solarpunk books recently, A Half-built Garden, the Monk and Robot series, I could go on. I’ve also been reading Chris Newman’s new book about first-generation farming and the importance of working within a collective to meet the needs of your local community. He dives into the creation and maintenance of sovereign food systems, how to factor in economise of scale and create lasting change. This book is on pre-release for his patreons but when it comes out proper, believe me, I will be shouting about it.
When not reading I’ve been processing a lot of dandelions from the farm. We had a very long day last Wednesday, with the final task of the day being weeding. Without even having to ask, the team saved dandelions. Ah, the joy of being known for your love of edible weeds. That evening I came home and processed lots of dandelions in my garden. The unopened flowers were used to make capers, the leaves to dry out (to make into a nutrient-rich powder for smoothies/soups/baking) and the roots were also dried ready for roasting (into caffeine-free coffee alternative). Right now they are all drying on a mesh dehydrator in the hallway.
As I write this I’m drying Dandelion flowers for the first stage in making jam. They get boiled with lemon and orange, I let them steep for a few hours, and then the sifted liquid is boiled down with sugar and cardamom. To me, making this jam feels like the first fresh breath of spring. To be in touch with nature, capturing its bright yellow essence, deliciously holding it on your tongue.
Speaking of Solarpunk, the Land Workers Alliance, a union of farmers, is calling for a doubling of the agricultural budget to help with a transition to more sustainable and just land practices.
Their campaign for a new deal for horticulture across the UK, along with the manifesto laid bout by the Nature-Friendly Farming Network outline frameworks to support a transition to a more resilient and fair agricultural future.
At this time, in an election year, when belief in politicians is so low, it is more important than ever to connect with your local MP and share with them your concerns for our future. For a fairer and more sustainable future. It could be as simple as finding your MP, and sharing your concerns with them in an email or meeting. I can’t wait until we have the chance to invite MPs out to the farm we build to show them the importance of local, climate-forward agricultural alternatives. Until then I’ll berate them via email.
Do I think the Labour Party could and should be doing better, more, anything? F**k yes, I do. But does that mean I’m going to disengage, absolutely not.
Current farm updates
The farm we currently manage, just outside Ann Arbor, Michigan, is in full swing. Right now we are seeding radishes everywhere. The kale and chard that overwintered (were planted in November and lived in our greenhouse until now), are starting to bolt. This means they're going to flower, along with being bitter and disgusting and not great. For their crimes, they shall be pulled out and in their place, radishes will be seeded.
We are at the stage of potting up tomatoes; which means taking them from tiny little plug trays into bigger pots. Allowing them to grow big enough that by the time we plant them out (in about a month) in mid-May they will have strong root systems and be sturdy enough to survive.
We are dabbling in chaos planting herbs at the moment, which is heavy direct seeding, sprinkling herbs in the ground in certain beds. They don't seem to do that well transplanted at the moment, or they don't germinate as expected so we’re being a bit more liberal. Improving on a practice we used last year.
Right now we are having a Vole Apocalypse! On top of the kale and chard bolting and trying to go to seed they're also being undermined (quite literally, their roots are being eaten through) by voles. Our mousetraps have been very effective this year and completely ineffective vole-wise. Apparently, because mice will climb up things for peanut butter and voles don't like beef jerky as much as the internet thinks they do. At this rate, we’re losing like a kale plant every couple of days to just vole activity. In the greenhouse in the mornings, you can see them skittering around, flagrantly rubbing it in our faces. So that's certainly something we're working on.
Because of torrential rain, we took the opportunity to take the day off work on Friday. Not only had we run out of inside tasks but most of the outside tasks are awful to perform in wet soil and can even increase compaction if you do them wrong.It was wonderful to have a little more time to do things, which brings me on to…
Future farm updates
We, my partner and I, spent yesterday working more on our business plan. We've come up with a pretty good tool for calculating the Cost to Produce for various vegetables we intend to grow. This includes the hours it takes to seed, to water, to plant, to prep beds, to harvest, to wash. Added into that the price of seeds, potting mix and crop-specific equipment. We decided not to include the price of trays or compost because we're going to have to buy those straight up at the start of every year (a sunk cost, if you will). From that, we calculate roughly a 30% loss (at least) to figure out how many bunches we could produce of kale (or whatever else). From there, the predicted profit per bunch can be calculated. It’s definitely interesting to look at, and consider what you want to factor in. Do I include the cost of going to market in the per-bunch pricing? Or is it also a sunk cost for the eight hours spent (prepping for, travelling to and working at the farmers market).
All sorts of other costs come up. Naturally, we've been having debates around that.
Which have read to clear decisions, such as the starting size we want to grow on, roughly four blocks of ten 50’(15m). Plus a High tunnel (eight 15m beds) for our Solinacea.
We're trying to figure out how best to contact local businesses, such as value-added producers (jams, ferments etc.). Until we know where we're going to be next year, this is not the easiest task. But we still have an outline, informed by Chris Newman’s suggestion to do a community food assessment before getting into business, of how plan to do so.
Quite a bit of work yesterday.
We were also sent a beautiful link for some land from my mother. We won't be buying that land sight unseen, but if anyone is interested it’s on auction in May. It's pretty cool to see that there are plots of land out there for when we might actually get the chance to buy some. How very hope-making.
For now, I think we've settled on leasing land for two to three years. First to get our foot in the door in the UK market, and also to not financially over-commit. Once there, we’ll make more informed decisions down the line.
So thats it, lots of planning, lots of prepping on our current farm and for our future farm.
But through it all, pretty good.
Pretty Solarpunk to imagine how we integrate ourselves into a food system, to make it fairer, more sustainable, more sovereign. It’s a pleasure and privilege to be able to think about this.
See you next week,
Ok, Bye.
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Dear b*****s, hello all, I'm back.
This is Scrap Kitchen.
I was off last week. Not really on purpose, but because I was doing a lot of things last Sunday (which is when I record these) and I just couldn't get around to it.
This week I am getting around to it! Thank goodness. I'm gonna do a bumper update since it's been a while.
This is Episode 8, I think I'm calling it Ostara, which is pagan-ish Easter. To an extent, there are no written records of traditional British celebrations.
And honestly, it was somewhat re-invented in the ‘60s by some random folks who were just trying to string stuff together to kind of recreate a nationalist British Identity. But also to weave back in nature reverence. Because of this, I have complex feelings around it, it's a tangle to unpick.
Who knows? Who knows?
However, you know, when thinking about the seasons and celebrating them, it's a fine framework.
Anyways we celebrated Ostara a couple of weeks ago, which was on the solstice. In all truth, it was a couple of days after the solstice because I didn't have the official date and I was just going off my diary (which was wrong). Trust no one am I right (certainly not myself for getting dates correct).
Moving swiftly on.
My partner and I invited people over to the house. We made a rabbit local rabbit, lots of vegetables and hot ‘cross’ buns (but with a wheel of the year on them instead of a cross). Guests brought all sorts of stuff including something called Cherry Bounce which is an absolutely lethal combination of Grain Alcohol, Sour Terries and Sugar. Delicious but lethal.
Also, someone brought their bassoon and played it to us in the back garden. We had a fire, people danced, we got to teach a card game and it was just truly lovely. It was a great group.
In the past, I've always kept my pagan-ish celebration pretty low-key or personal (mostly solo honestly). Now I’ve got a chance to share and celebrate with others, I'm really grateful that my beloved is so excited to join in. Events and celebrations are so much better with other people. Most things are better with other people!
So yeah that's what we've been up to.
Another life update is we're moving to a new room (you might be able to hear the echo of an empty room on the audio version). We just moved everything in. Now we need to settle. Let the silt settle before we put art up on the walls. I always find it helpful to know where the sunlight comes in, how it hits, and what you want to see most often. All important to know before you put up pictures of my family and friends. To make space for them. To make sure I get the maximum view of their faces each day. For this to be possible the jitters of moving must settle and the sun must return from the overcast sky.
Farm Updates
We’re almost full-time now! I mean, my partner and I are going in most days, but the ‘staff’, the farm team are coming in for four days a week for the next couple of weeks.
Already its been a lot of work. We've started all of our big like Solanaceae; tomatoes, aubergine, peppers. We've started a lot of crops (radishes, turnips, green onions, carrots) that are going to go into our CSA box in May, which is somewhat exciting, but only a month away. Which is so soon, that's actually terrifying. And exciting.
It's a bit of both.
I fluctuate wildly.
The day after we celebrated Ostara, it snowed about a foot, or I think it's a foot, I don't know the measurements over here. It snowed a lot. It was quite a bit, like at least several centimetres.
The snow delayed us a little on planting and prepping beds outside. But thankfully we’ve now been able to work outside. This entails preparing beds, laying down wood chips, and seeding mustard (to try and get rid of a root nematode that has been detected, yikes). Just lots of little things to get the farm started strong.
One of the amazing things this year is that a lot of people who worked last year have returned, meaning there's a lot less training to be done. We’re still around to answer questions for them, but people don't need to be taught how to plant things to the same extent. Work moves a lot quicker. Not only that but everyone's come in with a lot of spring energy and that's just really exciting to be around.
Future Farm Updates
In terms of our future farm, we're currently working on the business plan. It's been two weeks since my last update. In that time my partner and I have been talking through various legalities and all the things we need to get sorted for the farm business. This includes what type of farm ‘entity’ we would be setting up (most likely a Limited Liability Company) and what type of land lease we would be seeking (realistically a Farm Business Tenancy).
We’re about to tackle the finance section. Which sounds daunting but (since he's a Virgo and I'm a Virgo Moon/Mercury) is very exciting. We get to dive into Excel spreadsheets. Our love language. This year’s farm was planned out in minute detail on Excel, meaning we have a lot to go on for our future farm. The spreadsheets we are currently using come from my guy Dan Brisebois and his chef’s kiss Excellent course/book on Farmer Spreadsheets. His seed saving podcast is also not to be sniffed at.
Thats all folks, not many other updates. The current farm has been taking priority as it would in early March, late March.
That's my quick and simple update.
Have a good week.
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hi all,
Welcome back to Scrap Kitchen where I, Magda, take you through the process of my partner and I managing a farm while also trying to get a future farm sorted out. I’ll take you through the farming season; what we're getting up to and thinking about.
This episode is the seventh (I'm pretty sure) and I'm calling it Little Shoots (because I am soppy and it's spring).
I thought I'd start this episode with a bit of gratitude. One of my friends and I send a lot of voice notes backwards and forwards of things we're grateful for. Personally, I think it's a really great way to think about all that we have and not focus on what we don't have. It's a good way of identifying all the good s**t, even within all the bad.
Here’s some of the stuff that I'm grateful for:
* Andyof The Poor Prole's Almanac, which is a really great podcast.
* ismatu gwendolyn is doing an amazing podcast as well (also her newsletter's bangin’).
* When I talked to my Partner’s Friend’s Girlfriend yesterday she told me about the nurses where she's working who are trying to unionize. She saw some real b******t union-busting propaganda and thought of me. I love that I’m strongly associated with being pro-union. But more importantly, their whole hospital consortium is trying to Unionise, that's pretty amazing.
* The Book recommendations I got from hanging out with people this week.
* Mostly I'm grateful for the farm team, most of whom came back this year. This particularly feels amazing. To be working with the same people for a second year in a row.
* Also for moving my body more than before.
We're really starting to kick off the farming season and it's great to feel my way back into all the stretching and moving and carrying that we have to do.
Current Farm Updates
The update for this year's farm is that people arrived!
We had the staff turn up on Thursday; talked them through the plan for the year. We also went over something called the Wheel of the Year which I'll probably talk about some other time. The whole team then took a tour around the farm and my partner and I showed them all the systems that we've been improving over the winter. All the signs we've been putting up and laminating!
Got a couple rounds of applause, yeah, no big deal. Were they sarcastic? Maybe. But also, you know you have a great team when they seem genuinely excited by a laminated sheet of harvest bin weights and a 5-S-ed tool tent.
This week we did lot of seeding a lot, a lot, of seeding. Within the last week we started Tomatoes, Aubergine and Peppers, which are kind of finicky. As seedlings go they're somewhat difficult. Something we're keeping a very close eye on them; their temperature, light and water. Mostly we don't want them to get ‘Leggy’.
Getting ‘Leggy’ is where a plant grows too tall too fast because it doesn't have enough sunlight. It’s reaching towards light and overextends itself. In turn, this stunts its growth for the rest of its life (so that's pretty bad).
Next week, the farm team will be in for three days but my partner and I are in for the whole week. We're going to be doing more seeding, lots of flowers need to be started. Just like Solanaceae (tomatoes, aubergine etc), flowers are quite intricate in how they need to be seeded. But in new and interesting ways. Just another layer of complexity for the diversified vegetable farm. Some of them need to be stratified which is to be left in moist soil, in the cold for up to 6 weeks. Some need direct sunlight (so not to be buried at all). Some need very specific temperatures. All very intricate.
But also amazing, to see all these trays of plants growing already. Ones that we're going to put in the ground and eventually feed to people (in like six to eight weeks). It also feels like we're finally back doing what we love doing. Yay spring!
The plan for next week is also to be doing a lot of bed prep. This is where we prepare our no-till blocks for planting. Our blocks are 100 feet by 100 feet. This is divided into 20 beds each 30 inches wide and 100 feet long. The beds are separated by a 30-inch pathway which is covered in wood chips. On the beds themselves we put compost (when necessary) and other fertility down (e.g. certain rocks (Basalt) or Alfalfa Pellets).
To prep a bed we take out any weeds that are growing and we churn up the top inch (maximum!) of soil. Sometimes we need to aerate the beds which means we use a Broadfork, imagine a normal fork but massive. It has lots of tines, which when you stand on it are pushed into the earth, this brings air into the lower soil and helps with soil health. We also need to lay down lots of new wood chips and make sure all of our beds are mostly straight. Eugh obsession with straightness. But also it helps when you're running a farm (quite hard work) if plants are in straight lines especially when you're weeding. If you can just walk in a straight line down the row and pull a weeding tool (scuffle/stirrup hoe etc.) behind you it's a lot easier than wiggling in and out of plants. The only time I will be like, ‘woo, straightness’.
We’ve got a lot of that coming up.And it's really exciting.It's really, really good.
We will also be seeding things directly into the ground next week. So that's some carrots and some turnips and radishes. It truly spring once you're seeding stuff outside.
Future Farm Updates
My partner and I have been working on the business plan. We've got some of it done, some of our history and some of our vision. This week we'll be working on more of it.
The process is bringing up a lot of interesting questions about what our ultimate aims are with the farm. Why do we want to do stuff. Or even what we want to do. It’s pretty vital to talk over.
So that's all we're really doing at the moment.
Heavy hectic week. I mean it's heavy time in general but there are good small bits of light in between it all.
I hope you all have a great week. I hope all of this makes sense and if it doesn't shout at me in the comments.
Okay, bye,
See you next week.
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com -
Hello and welcome back to Scrap Kitchen.
This is episode 6 and I think I'm gonna call it Snow Fall. Or maybe Slow Fall.
For those of you in the United Kingdom, a Happy Mother's Day (especially mine)! I'm about to go on a call with my mother so I have half an hour to type this s**t out and get it ready.
So I'm gonna do a short one this week mainly because it is our final week before the staff start a farm. This means we've been rushing around a lot, today and yesterday were our first two days of not doing farm tasks (apart from looking after seedlings) in weeks. So this is like the Final Rest™ we get before the season starts. Hence why I thought I'd make a quick update today.
The Week in 5 Photos
Here are five pictures that I wanted to talk a little bit about not too much hopefully but things from the last week or so
The first is beautiful, I think it's a print, I'm not exactly sure, it says ‘Community is the most effective form of rebellion’ and it's by Eileen Jimenes. They're on Instagram and I just took a screenshot of it because clearly, I needed a reminder.
The next is some kale. No! It's not. It's some chard! It's some chard that we picked today. This very morning. The chard has been growing all through the winter (in our high tunnel) and it got absolutely battered by frost. Freezing and thawing, freezing and thawing. This meant that the skin on the outside, like the flesh of the leaf, the bit that holds the leaf together, was peeling away. Underneath it was mealy and cottony. The chard picked today and it's finally not disgusting (or mealy/cottony and getting eaten by woodlice) so that's a big win. We can start selling it again.
The next picture is some Tatsoi that bolted.
Tatsoi is an Asian green, a brassica. You can tell it's a brassica because the flowers (before they turn a classic bright yellow) look like baby broccoli heads. Which, I think, is kind of cool.
Brassicas; broccoli, cabbage, kale, brussels sprouts, kohlrabi, are all the same species. Different elements of them were bred out. For example the leaves for kale, the flowers for broccoli and cauliflower etc. It was interesting to see.
The water broke several weeks ago (it works now thankfully) but in that time it was very very hot. It was very hot in February which is wonderful and not terrifying at all lol. Lack of water, combined with heat signals to the plant that it's time to seed and so they bolted. Bolting is when a plant gets very bitter and puts its energy into making flowers (and eventually seeds).
The next picture is of a lino cut that I made with some of the people who work on the farm. I am about to get Obsessive about linocut. I'm very very excited about it.
My partner and I are planning on making some stamps with vegetables on them. So that children can make little booklets and then when they pick a vegetable (at the U-Pick) they can stamp the pepper to say they picked a pepper. Similar to passport stamps.
Is this gamifying vegetables? Possibly. But its also fun and we get to do art.
The final picture is a picture of this little (I don't know what I think it was like a juice shot something?) bottle. A little plastic square milk bottle but tiny!
And filled with rose petals that I got from a bulk food shop down the road for a dollar! I love bulk food shops. I love reusing little packages that look super cute. I love the cardamom and rose syrup I made with them to put in my coffee. It’s all making me very excited for sunshine (it's not sunny anymore but it's gonna come back).
So that's where we're at right now.
In terms of longer-term goals, we are focusing on the present farm right now. Once we get a little bit more settled into the rhythm I think we're gonna have like a day a week to focus on the future farm. No big updates. Just little updates and pictures.
I hope you're all doing well.
See you next week.
M
Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website.
To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee.
If you missed the last update, read it here.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com - Show more
