everybody likes a field trip. five year olds, and forty five year olds. fossil dig at the quarry, whale watch, science center? in. natural history museum, fish market, recycling center? here’s my ten dollars. only three extra for a bus snack? ok, sold.
when my housemate, and part owner of farm255, asked me if i was interested in escorting (legitimate) her friend from atlanta to a farm in north georgia, all i really heard was field trip and was immediately game. at some later date, i actually looked into what i had agreed to do, and the story got good.
the pickup in atlanta was a lady named severine von tscharner fleming, who is directing a forthcoming documentary, greenhorns, about the growing movement of young beginning farmers across america. a young farmer, herself, severine tells the story of a simmering revolution that is brewing in small batches across the nation. their film has developed into a full scale network of young farmers of all kinds from all places who have each made the same choice to devote their lives to producing healthy relationships with both people and land. this energized collective of young farmers is something i had little insight into before moving to athens. my road to farming felt very insular and personal. but coming here, and meeting people who own these farms, own these restaurants, and make this film (trailer), i’ve heard so many different people feel the exact same things i do. that's powerful stuff.
the field trip was eye opening. seeing another farm besides ours for the first time since i’ve been farming made me instantly realize the endless nuances, innovations, techniques and personal touches that must dot this landscape. the farm we visited was riverview farms, in the foothills of the appalachian mountains, northwest georgia, in the bottomlands of the coosawattee river.
every mile i drove out of town layers of georgia seemed to peel away until i found myself in a place that for one reason, or a dozen, just felt deeper. i had gone deeper into georgia in ways that can only be peripherally felt, let alone described.
the swancy family owns and operates a few hundred acres of organic farmland offering vegetable, grass fed cow, pasture raised berkshire pork and organic grain production. they sell to the public through a csa as well as farmers markets and supply food to many of atlanta’s restaurants. that’s a large market, and the demand is met with a farm that looks a lot to me like the so called medium scale agriculture people point to as a solution in the argument for a systemic overhaul of food production and a shift towards local food economies.
to compare sizes (speaking of sizes, look at the size of these boar testacles). right now our pig herd only has one sow (breeding female), while the swancy farm maintains fifty sows. fifty sows each producing healthy litters on regular cycles. eight, ten, maybe twelve or more piglets in a litter. the eye opening part of seeing this operation was recognizing the power of scale. scale is everything.
higher production carries with it more gross income as well as more financial and infrastructure investments upfront. certain aspects of farming on this scale require large buildings and structures. harvesting, roasting, and storing grains to make feed, for example, requires large harvesting machines, expensive elevators to store them, and expensive equipment to deliver them to so many animals consistently throughout the day.
there are countless examples of these scale tradeoffs that come with meeting different market demands. it became obvious to me that this is something i really have to weigh when choosing a potential farm/business/home location. what scale is right for me? for you or for him? it’s as personal as questions come.
the sky was wide open, bright blue, and it was the warmest day of the season. the swancys broke ground and started at the task of planting twenty thousand onion shoots for their csa. barefoot, for comfort on the freshly tilled soil, they took each shoot and pressed its roots into the ground. an inch deep, and six inches apart.
they have a seventeen acre garden. that's a lot of inches.
after a few minutes of watching on the sidelines i too removed my boots and began planting. the sun going down, hunched over, and barefoot. their would have to be skis involved for me to be happier.
before heading home to athens i was treated to a hearty dinner of their own beef and pork, a friend of their’s sweet potato, and some fresh baked corn bread. a gift of five bags of their own hand ground grits and i was on my way. what a great field trip.
want to read the director's statement?
