Little did I know, my first-year farming at the new lease in 2022 would be a record-breaking weather year in the Pacific Northwest – the wettest and coldest spring in over a decade. Looking back on it now, it seems unbelievable I was able to cultivate any crops at all.
I started Chainy-Stakes Farm unsure of exactly what approach I would take to farming. Having worked and volunteered at a handful of CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) farms ranging from a half-acre in size to about 20 acres, I knew buzz words such as “regenerative, biodynamic, no-till, natural, organic, and sustainable.” I didn’t really know how to define these words, but I knew they were laudable, and I wanted to adhere to those words. In some farming communities, organic was old news, like a fashion from last decade – faded out of style. I heard about a rebellious cohort of young farmers spreading buzz about “beyond organic.” They were forming a counterculture against the organic label. Their farming practices were so innovative that they were essentially invalidating the old organic benchmark of purity. They developed relationships with their customers, online and in-person at farmers markets so they could publicly share their farming methods. Customers naturally trusted them and understood how their food was raised and where it came from, so the value of a USDA stamp of approval was less and less. It became common knowledge that local produce is healthier and fresher for the consumer, and better for the environment compared to organic produce imported from another State or country.
After working on farms, interviewing farmers, and doing a voracious amount of research over the past ten years, I had plenty of inspiration for what kind of farmer I wanted to be. But what kind of farmer would I be? Where would I fit on the spectrum of farming methodologies? I knew I would use composted manure fertilization, NOT any synthetic fertilizers, so would that make me regenerative? I was not interested in an organic label, but I knew I wanted to farm with minimal impact on the land, without using any pesticides or herbicides, so would that make me natural? Could I call my practices sustainable? Could I describe my farm using any of these buzz words if I practiced tillage?
Although I am still honing my farming skills, and figuring out exactly how to describe my methods, I can tell you for certainty what I am not. I am NOT a no-till farmer. (Not yet at least). I idealize about using no-till practices in the future, to improve soil health and reduce soil compaction and erosion. However, no-till was beyond what I had the capacity or ability to do at the start. The follow is a list of reasons why I opted against no-till the first year:
I’ve only experienced no-till on small-scale (market garden) farms where the land is lined with carboard mulch before hauling compost on top to form planting beds. This is extremely labor and resource intensive initially, beyond what I could accomplish or afford the first year by myself.
I could not justify hauling in compost from off-site when the landlord had plenty of composted mixed animal manure available on site.
Considering I secured my lease in April, and needed to start planting in May, I didn’t have the luxury of planning in advance or planting a cover crop the year prior.
I did not have access to special equipment such as a roller-crimper or flame weeder to terminate the pasture grasses, and I refused to use any herbicide, which would have been another option.
I did not have access to a no-till seed drill. Furthermore, I wanted to propagate in the greenhouse and transplant seedlings as opposed to direct sowing, since I was more familiar and experienced with this method.
I acknowledge that in a perfect world, I would have attempted no-till practices from the very beginning. Similarly, in a perfect world, we wouldn’t have snow in April or an atmospheric river in June. In a perfect world, I would have access to infinite capital and labor. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to compete with pests or invasive plant species. But this is not a perfect world. And in my real-world experience, I have come to understand that perfection is the antidote of ACTION.
So instead of trying to do everything perfect the first year, I decided to jump into action. Instead of farming with precise adherence to all the lofty ideals of climate scientists and environmental conservationists, I opted to embrace the guidance from my mentors. My primary mentor William, who leases me the land and equipment, is a third-generation farmer who’s been tending this land since he was a teenager. If anybody can make things grow in this soil, it’s William, who primarily grows forage crops for his animals. I sought out specific vegetable growing advice from neighboring vegetable growers, newfound friends, and retired farmers in the valley. Everybody’s advice was in favor of tilling. At this point in my farming career, I was just barely beginning to understand the difference between plowing, discing, harrowing, and tilling, but my mentors said all those steps would be required.
I embraced the guidance from my mentors and sought out more guidance as unforeseen issues arose throughout the season. I suppose the best way to describe me is a farmer who listens to my elders! Since we faced such drastic weather conditions that year, all the crop farmers in the valley were listening and leaning on each other for advice. The unusually wet and cold spring forced farmers to delay their tractor work, while they waited on sloppy, muddy fields to dry out. When farmers were finally able to get machinery to the vegetable fields to prepare beds, the soil remained chunky despite discing and tilling. Multiple passes with the till finally achieved a planting surface that was less than ideal, but workable. It turns out I wasn’t the only farmer who resorted to extra tilling in 2022 as a last resort. I was sheepish about doing it, but I’m not sure what else I could have done given the circumstances.
Please see the next blog post “Breaking Ground: The Make-or-Break Moment” for a detailed accounting of the prep work that took place to get the ground ready for planting.
Copyright, all rights reserved, 2023, Kayla McCarthy.
(Author's whereabouts upon publication: At an overseas military base, living it up on deployment).