Becoming a farmer?

Despite the relentless slog, I somehow manage to fit in a tree house project for the twins 9th birthday, although i'm beginning to wonder who I actually built it for. And, as the market garden stars to take shape, a passing comment from my daughter made me contemplate my work identity and realise all the efforts going to be worth it.

Josselin came home from school the other day and immediately announced she had taken part in a lesson on heroes. I sensed this statement had been balancing on the tip of her tongue all the way home. She continued that the class had to name someone they felt did an important job in the world, or was well known for their positive impact – such as a politician. She then entered a predictable pause whilst I looked up from my work computer and asked “so, who did you choose then”? Expecting some kind of ill-informed response such as Boris Johnson, I was surprised when, with proud assured confidence and a beaming smile, she replied “daddy”. Now, with my attention firmly grasped, she continued “I chose you because you're a farmer and grow lots of nice fruit for us, and you look after nature”. She then skipped off to get changed, leaving her profound words to resonate for a while in my soul. My first thought, as I adjusted my focus from the glare of the laptop screen to the distant view of the sheep down the valley, was that I don't see myself as a farmer, rather a burnt-out part time social worker. After all, farmers spend every day from dawn to dusk tending livestock and crops - but I spend most my week tapping on a keyboard. However, after some further contemplation, I started to wonder if maybe my efforts on the land were in fact starting to manifest in tangible and worthwhile outcomes? We have no fruits yet, but the strawberries are looking professional, with their lush growth defining the neat rows in which they were planted. The raspberry beds mark an agreeable pattern on the hillside, that can be seen a mile or so down the valley. The blueberries are starting to reach out with their dangling bell like flowers proving vigour, contentment and promise. Maybe I have progressed from a mad man, frantically barrowing compost up a hill on some kind of sentimental pilgrimage to reconnect with my inner self, to a respectful custodian of the land..... or even a farmer? What’s really interesting, is the fact that Josselin has noticed all of this, and holds it in such high esteem. Its interesting as I think it reinforces the underlying purpose of this life transition I am undertaking, in that I want my actions to become more tangible, obvious and honest, instead of buried in the labyrinth of information technology. I want there to be an undeniable means to an end, a result, a purpose.

There is no doubt that the last few weeks have started to see the means to an end, with the scraggy bare roots that were planted in the cold hailstorms of April, now showing lush growth and even flower buds. Unfortunately, this vigour has been matched by the grass which, without the unrelenting nibbling of the sheep, is growing faster than I can cut it, and this is proving to be another lesson in market gardening. I can see now that the intensive utilisation of space for growing is not just about maximising crop output, but also minimising grass management. Weed pressure, on the other hand, has been remarkably good and I can see the benefits of no-dig in this respect. All that is needed is a daily 15-minute massacre, which I carry out with my sun hat on and a hoe in my hand, taking out the enemy’s as soon as they come in range. On a nice spring evening, this remains a thoroughly enjoyable task.

I have also managed to make time to build a tree house for the boys birthday, a suggestion Sarah made in a way that implied it was a 5 minute job. She knows me well though, and once my initial resistance was vented, the seed took hold, and the creative juices started to flow. Within hours the wood was ordered. Reluctant to fill our home with yet more birthday tat, we figured the various donations from the family would be put to better use this way, and I had a frantic two day window to get the bulk of it done without them becoming suspicious. As the structure took shape, it became increasingly obvious this could also double up as drinking den for adults and my enthusiasm stepped up a gear. The almost finished result made for a lovely birthday present and one of those special moments that justify life.

The last few months has involved incredible hard work, and this has come with the usual stresses and strains that this narrative often hides. I am a long way off completing the infrastructure and planting, and I am also a long way of being a farmer - and I'm certainly no hero. But, what I am doing is increasingly stimulating my spirit and, moreover, is resonating with my children....... so is worth it on this basis alone.