K. Lawrence – ’03

May – October, 2003

On this rainy afternoon, I can’t help but be reminded of Ezra’s moving account of the huge thunderstorm that broke last summer’s drought. Over the course of this season, we have, on a few different occasions, literally cheered the arrival of the sun through a cloud cover that had shadowed us for a week or more. After a brief period of daily sunshine, it seems we have settled back into our usual pattern of working in muddy gardens with soaked-through boots. The obvious weather differences between this year and last have got me thinking about other differences as well.

I have always associated land with stability. For my goals, ownership of a piece of land is as much a final destination as a beginning. However, spending time at Seven Springs has helped me to understand the dynamic nature of what it means to “own” land (Native American wisdom aside, for the time being). There are the obvious things: Last year there were cows grazing the fields, this year we cut hay in those empty fields and next year they will be occupied by mules. There will be a new resident, as Ron’s sweetheart moves in during October. Whereas last year, watering the gardens was a constant necessity, this year we have spent many a workday digging trenches in the pouring rain to channel water away from crops, only to still find our topsoil deposited hundreds of feet away in the pond. Ron and Polly are continuously developing their personal lives; new interests and new observations replace old ones and promise exciting possibilities for the future. And of course, having two different apprentices each year brings a change of energy as well as new backgrounds, experiences, and ideas. I suppose that while there may be an underlying stability, for example each year we know our land a little bit more personally, on an operational level things are in a continuous flux.

Spending my first 17 years in the suburbs and the next three in Boston, I had entirely lost that visceral connection with the earth that is, for so many people, a primary source of joy, hope, and meaning. It is interesting that in this day and age, a city-dwelling “environmentalist” who wants to eat all organic food needs only to shop at
Store A instead of Store B. It is not necessary to even set foot on anything other than grey pavement and dull linoleum. My generation is perhaps the first that can survive without any direct link to the Earth, in the sense of “the source of all our resources”. Of course, no generation will survive for long that abandons this connection. Many a social commentator has mused on the causes of today’s large population of disaffected youth, of which I was once a member: too much television, “material culture”, lack of meaningful careers, and poor parenting (always by other kinds of parents, I’ve noticed) are all commonly cited. Whatever the reason, I tend to think the root cause is this dislocation from the soil and the earth’s energy. Aldous Huxley had it right in Brave New World: our cultural contempt for nature is not borne out of any malicious intent; rather, it is the inevitable side effect of our embracement of the new Gods: convenience and (terribly short-sighted) economic efficiency. (I love to discuss these issues in greater depth ? email me at meatloafgame@yahoo.com if you agree or disagree, but for everyone else’s sake I will stop ranting and get on with it)… The outcome of these converging influences is manifested in many, particularly younger people, chiefly as a lack of passion. Seven Springs Farm is the kind of place that can put the PASSION and MEANING back into the life of even the most cynical or frustrated person.

The chief passion here is obviously a passion for good food. As food is no longer an “innocent” commodity, with nearly universal use of pesticides and synthetic fertilizers in commercial fruit and vegetable production, and hormones and misuse of antibiotics in meat and dairy, the most expedient way to get good food is to grow it yourself. The Community Supported Agriculture garden takes this even a step further, providing local organic food to over 100 families in a manner that is far less energy-intensive than the dominant production and distribution systems. This passion can be felt best by attending one of the on-farm potluck lunches and observing people as they search out the creator of that amazing eggplant dish or loaf of bread to give thanks and maybe, just maybe are able to coax out that secret recipe. The role that food plays in our lives here is very whole, from the experience of growing it to taking the time to prepare it and sharing with other people. Quite a different role from that played by the drive-thru window or frozen reheatable dinner.

Another passion to be found is in belonging to a community in the truest sense of the word. A great many Floydians have banded together in their search for fulfillment. After being here just over three months, I’ve made scores of friends, some in elementary school, others retired, and everywhere else in between. A common thread that holds the community together is a desire for sustainability (interpreted differently by nearly everyone), with a basic value of improving the land that is our habitat. Everyone has their own goals and ideas, and there is room for differences politically and in practice, but the cohesion remains strong. Above all, I have met a number of people who are willing to take time out of their schedules to teach me things or simply to talk about life. I am confident that I will be learning from these people for a great many years, even if I reside somewhere else. I have noticed an interesting thing about the community of Floyd because it has largely accomplished something that I, with a degree in music business, think is extremely important and an all-too-rarely found achievement: the marriage of self-reliance with self-expression. Typically, it is in the “cosmopolitan” urban centers where self-expression is at its height, in the form of a thriving scene of music, art, and culture of all stripes, though most residents have little or no practical part in producing for themselves. On the contrary, many rural areas seem to be working towards self-reliance, but self-expression is limited to the dubious realm of bumper stickers. In the suburbs, incidentally, I have found little of either. Floyd boasts a thriving local arts scene (as demonstrated especially well at the annual FloydFest) with a broad base of support, and there is abundant local production and supply of fruit, vegetables, eggs, dairy, and meat, all organic, of course. I derive much of my inspiration and optimism from the quality of wholeness that prospers in Floyd.

One of my particular passions, as you may be able to detect, is politics. This passion finds its healthy outlet here as well. Henry David Thoreau, among the other wisdom in the brilliant “On the Duty of Civil Disobedience”, says “Even voting for the right is doing nothing for it. It is only expressing to men feebly your desire that it should prevail. A wise man will not leave the right to the mercy of chance, nor wish it to prevail through the power of the majority.” In this sense, every action that I take here, every carrot that I eat, every hug that I give or receive IS the revolution that I once envisioned. On a pragmatic level, we have witnessed Ron and Polly struggle both physically and emotionally with the recent development of Jerry Lane. Ron was able to find two organic farmers to save neighboring land from further development, ensuring a buffer along almost the entire property line and preserving that all-important agricultural land. The new neighbors have become good friends and important additions to the community.

Education is ever-present at Seven Springs Farm on many different levels. For starters, as farmers who are committed to being “stewards of the land in the most ecological way possible,” as Ron and Polly put it, we are continually evolving and applying new knowledge and ideas to the gardens themselves. Sometimes this results in failure, others in success but always the idea is to learn a little bit more. The apprentice program itself is a far more potent educational experience than anything to be found from a high school or college. The amount of time and energy that goes into teaching us the full range of activities that happen on the farm is staggering, and the opportunities for us to utilize that knowledge are encouraged. I am continually impressed with Ron and Polly’s openness as far as accepting visitors and answering questions from friends and strangers alike. Many a soul has wandered this way to spend an enlightening afternoon planting lettuce or picking cherries, and our experiences all commingled into a lively discussion. Mark and Ann, the two other common faces here, have led such fascinating lives and have both positively affected the course of the apprenticeship immensely. Working with new neighbors is always fun, the exchange of knowledge fantastic. I am greatly appreciative of all that the Cabell Brand Center does for us here, as I was able to attend a valuable weeklong Principles of Organic Horticulture class at Virginia Tech, among other things.

Everything that I have learned and will learn yet at Seven Springs is precious to me. The value of this type of knowledge is so much more meaningful than any diploma signifies, and I look forward to the days ahead, applying knowledge in my backyard gardens, perhaps starting a community garden, and hopefully culminating in the purchase of land that will be the ultimate fulfillment (and dawn) of my hopes and dreams. By combining my experience with that of friends and learning from our mistakes, one day we envision for ourselves all of the positive attributes that we have found at Seven Springs and in Floyd County. My eternal gratitude to all those who have helped me along the way goes without saying, but it will mean so much more when I try to realize my dream and be able to repay it ten times over.

Kyle Lawrence