This week is quite a milestone for me. October 14th will mark the completion of the fifteenth year of my farming adventure. Over the last fifteen years, I’ve been told a lot of things.

I’ve been told that bigger is better and yet in my heart I’ve always had a fondness for the small and precious.

I’ve been told that expansion is the only viable option and yet every year a focus on growing deep versus growing wide has proven to manifest resilience.

I’ve been told to streamline production for efficiency, to eliminate complexity, to conform, to value uniformity above all else. And yet diversity and the celebration of the unique have proven to be two of my biggest allies.

I’ve been told to take the ‘easy way out’ and just use chemicals to manage weeds. I’ve been told manual labor is a waste and not a good use of my time, that I can’t keep it up, that it’s not good for the body. And yet, the physicality of the work, and the community that has sprung up because of the need for many hands and many hearts is now a wellspring of health, joy, and connection I hold very dear.

I’ve been told I don’t look like a farmer. I’ve been discounted, underestimated, and judged- unfairly held to different standards, and yet all that I am and all that I bring to this profession has empowered me to keep finding ways forward and that has inspired others to find their place in the fields too.

I’ve been told farming in Clark County isn’t viable, that there is not enough scale to make it work- that basically it’s impossible to make a livelihood in agriculture here, and yet, each day, for the last fifteen years, here I’ve been, and here I remain.

On reflection, I see now, how all this time, I’ve been quietly working to dismantle widespread agricultural illiteracy. Working against the grain of that dominant, invasive mindset of growth-at-all-costs.

I’m still here because I’ve ignored what in my heart I know doesn't ring true for me. I’m still here because of the incredible support and resource base I’ve been so fortunately surrounded by. I’m still here because I refuse to let anyone tell me who I am or what this farm is supposed to do to be ‘successful.’

Again and again, this farm has taught me to acknowledge the hard truths, but at the same time to keep sight of what is bright and good and possible. Where I have found sadness, there has also been new life; where difficulty arose, opportunity sprung up too. When fear bloomed, the earth remained solid beneath me. Here I am. Here I remain.

This year also marks a major milestone for our one-of-a-kind Farm to Heart Initiative. It’s hard to believe it, but it’s true– we have arrived at the end of our three-year pilot. Without a doubt, this has been the most rewarding work one could imagine. We’ll spend the early winter months compiling the final data, but meanwhile, I can say without a doubt, our pilot has been a resounding success. One big metric of success is this: 100% of current F2H families want to participate in F2H next year. Yes, you read that correctly. ONE HUNDRED PERCENT!

One mother wrote:

“I love having access to fresh and healthy foods and the farmers who grow them. I have learned so much since joining the C.S.A. I now have access to foods I otherwise wouldn't be able to purchase, try and learn about. Our family comes together to choose what foods we get, try new flavors and recipes. It has changed the way we eat, purchase and store our food and cut out a lot of sugars, processed foods and junk. I'm very thankful for April Joy Farm and the changes they brought to our family.”

In August, we were officially awarded a WSDA grant to support some of our most basic needs. This means two things: 1) funds pay one of our current volunteers to help us develop a F2H Farmer Network, and 2) a new cargo van to support the distribution of regionally grown food and reduce the costs and burden on farmers in our envisioned network.

Equally important to this much-needed funding is the recognition at a state level of the legitimacy of our work. May this be the beginning of good things to come…

At the end of October we are holding a listening session for Farm to Heart families so we can really ground truth our assumptions and intentionally craft our next steps forward. It’s time to ask, how can we gracefully transition from pilot to full - fledged program?

Meanwhile, I can tell you for a fact that a F2H culture of caring has taken deep root! Just this week, in an end of season survey, we asked all participating families what they loved most about the program. I am so extraordinarily proud of what emerged. This is a survey about a food program mind you, and on a majority of responses, one word showed up again and again.

Kindness.

***

There are many ways to tackle invasive Himalayan blackberries. Turn your back for a moment and these tenacious, razor sharp vines can grow into a 15 foot tall dense thicket, overwhelming every other living thing beneath them. Himalayan blackberries survive because they dominate the available sunshine. They use all other plants, fences, structures, implements— whatever is available as a ladder to overwhelm everything else.

Some say you can’t eradicate blackberries without toxic broadleaf herbicides.

Some choose to use mechanized equipment- flail mowers, brush hogs, weed eaters.

Some call in hungry herds of goats.

I’m here to say, nothing will ultimately work except extreme diligence and persistence.

Annie and Pete, who lived here before I arrived, logged the forest ravine and left me an inheritance of six acres of blackberry covered ravine. Talk about overwhelming. To this day, if I’m not careful, the thought of trying to tackle such a big problem fills me with despair.

Over the years, I’ve intentionally focused instead on the edges- small pockets of land here and there that I know we can gain a foothold. I planted stands of cedar on the north side where there is a section of relatively flat ground. I planted five spruce and a handful of poplar at the head of the little canyon to protect the stream. I work around the margins, here and there, and over time, these trees have grown tall and begun to shade out the blackberries below. It’s far from perfect. But it’s a start.

These small successes remind me that I have a choice. Negativity is a choice. But I have agency. I can choose instead to be a steward of change- regardless of what I am told. Not next week or next month, but right now in this moment, exactly where I am.

I may be the only one on the planet who feels this way, but my favorite way to work to reclaim land from blackberries is on the smallest of small scale. I use simple tools: a pair of thick leather gloves, long sleeves, hand pruners, and a sharp shovel. I work on one tree or bush at a time- because that is an achievable goal.

This past Monday, I picked a young fig tree smothered in lanky blackberry vines and I started with what was immediately in front of me- a barbed vine of prickers. A few feet at a time, I cut off the end of a single vine. Each section I cut, I tossed behind me, out of my way. I took care to keep my cuttings short enough to be manageable, so they didn’t tangle or get caught in my clothing or skin or snagged by my pant leg. I kept working my way down the blackberry stems, inching my way to the base of the plant I’m trying to save.

And that’s when, in a few seconds of insight, I realized this is exactly my approach to farming, to working to restore the health and wellbeing of our community. For me, small is precious and powerful. So I work one inch at a time. With a clear focus on individuals, on families not consumers. One kid, one carrot at a time.

When I had the trunk of my little fig in sight, I realized the beauty of my philosophy. Now I also could clearly see the root of the blackberry. The literal roots of the problem. When I work on the smallest of scale, instead of feeling overwhelmed, I feel empowered. I loosened the soil right at the base of the blackberry vine, slicing through the roots and with a satisfying pop, pulled the rhizome up out of the ground.

A few minutes and rhizomes later, I finished clearing the vines away from the fig. Then I stepped back to relish my small achievement.

That’s when I saw a handful of deep purple, very ripe figs. It always feels good to help. But this tasted good too! What a sweet reward.

I thought about how this gift from the fig was good incentive to come and visit this tree again in the spring, shovel in hand, to catch the blackberry regrowth that will surely occur. I know if we keep at it for a few more years, this tree will grow healthy and strong. A handful of figs will turn into a basket of figs. A basket of figs will turn into a flat… enough to share with our families. I felt humble standing next to this source of sweet abundance, on this land full of gifts given so freely…

Start small, make tangible progress, celebrate the good, remember gratitude.

One smile, one small kindness at a time.

That’s the April Joy Farm ethos in a nutshell.

When asked, ‘What do you love about the program?’ One Farm to Heart member wrote:

“Que los agricultores muy hermosas personas todo el equipo son muy amables… Me encanto todo.”
(“That the farmers are beautiful people and everyone is so friendly… I loved everything.”)

It is so easy to focus on the overwhelming magnitude of the problems in our world. And there is absolutely no doubt that the dominant corporation-driven food system is intrinsically broken.

By contrast, our Farm to Heart Initiative is a small seedling reaching high for the light. We’re not interested in fixing a broken system, we are literally growing a new one- one built around the dismantling of barriers for growers and eaters, built around the crucial importance of healthy soil. We’re cultivating a system rooted in healing, nutrient dense foods, equitable risk sharing for farmers, and yes- kindness.

My vision for April Joy Farm, and for Farm to Heart runs deep. Imagine a year round, full diet free choice CSA program– for ALL of us! A program that centers the needs of farmers and families, one that connects us to each other, supports the restoration and protection of our precious food-growing lands, and curates great intention, great generosity, and great joy.

Here’s to the next fifteen years of pouring my heart into this beautiful work.

Until Spring,

Your Farmer AJ

We are in need of contributions to help us cover CSA shares and purchase food from farm partners in 2023. I am not a professional fundraiser— I’m only a farmer who loves her community and is asking for support to carry this work forward. Words of encouragement, offers of volunteer assistance, and financial contributions are all welcome. Many thanks and deep gratitude, AJ

Support Farm to Heart