August 2024

August 2024

The past month has been hard - I’ve mostly felt overwhelmed. Farming is a lifestyle and the combined stressors of laundry, chick-rearing, dishes and rotational grazing can blur together, creating a constant narrative of “not having done enough.” Despite this, the farm is flourishing in almost every way – new folk are finding their way here, amphibian populations have soared, freshly-jarred vinegars are fermenting, the chickens will be butchered soon, and the lush, grassy pig paddocks are being heartily enjoyed.

Unsurprising, however, is the decline in our financial health. When your mission is to create sanctuary and nurture our socio-ecological community, money does not flow into the coffers with ease. The farm’s relationship with a profit-driven, colonial-capitalist system is disintegrating as our bank accounts empty. I've discussed my financial difficulties with others, and with few exceptions, the responses are woefully attached to the aforementioned system. Create and sell new value-added products. Add another cash crop. Sell all the animals. Try online sales and cross-country shipping.

Though I've no desire to mount a defense, I’ve considered those suggestions, and I think it’s fair I discuss the reality.

Let’s use the example of cash crops – blueberries, for instance, were suggested to me last week. Cash crops don’t always “make money.” Often, they simply bring cash flow. Good quality, hardy blueberries from St Lawrence Nurseries cost $14 each. I need 100 to launch an operation big enough to produce “marketable quantities” That's $1,400 dollars up front, plus labor costs. After three years, the blueberries will begin to produce fruit. Currently, the farmers market brings in $125 gross for a six hour day, plus a six hour day of preparations. That's $3.50 an hour gross, meaning no actual income. The sales at farmstands on this road, including ours, have plummeted. And to work with local wholesalers requires an enormous amount of consistent effort to produce bulk quantities on a regular basis. Hypothetically, I’ll spend $1,400.00 plus labor on a three-year project with no feasible monetary return.

How about selling animals? It’s true I butcher our animals - my friends - and when appropriate, some go to new homes. But shipping them all is the equivalent of cutting off one’s left arm, and then right leg. The animals here are not only an integral, vital part of the farm's rejuvenation, several of them have been with me since their births. They are my heart and soul. Their value is non-negotiable and should never be monetized.

The truth is, considering stepping back into the market economy on such a scale makes me sick. I know myself, and I know this farm. We’re not a young, uncomplicated operation. We are complex and deep, and we’re here to stay. The market does not support this farm, so we’re trying something else.

What does that look like? We’ve spent much of the summer occupying a liminal space, where jumping off the edge would feel so good, but the complete unknown was so daunting. What would floundering versus survival look like? What would thriving look like? What will it cost? What will be gained? Now forced into this “great and difficult transformation,” we are hashing out those answers.

Our multi-fold process for a thriving operation includes these ideas:

Expand our conservation efforts and pursue related funding:

We’re part of the Pennsylvania Sustainable Ag Climate Smart Program, and in January 2025, we’ll have access to $45,000 for projects that will mitigate the effects of climate change and increase ecological health. This funding will go directly to those projects, not daily costs, but is immensely helpful and forward-thinking. We’re working with the Rural Advancement Foundation International through a similar program, which may bring $10,000 in over the next two years. We’re also working with an Audubon Society consultant, building new farmer-to-bird programs, and there are several opportunities that may bring us forward as paid educators in the agroecological field in 2025 and 2026.

Continue our current “cash crops”:

The St Regis Mohawk Agriculture Program is still purchasing all our piglets, which brings in an average of $3,850 annually. The potatoes – seed and eating – bring in approximately $2,000 annually. We seek to rebuild the transplant and perennial sales my mother so amazingly managed each year, though I don’t know the financial viability of that project. And the farmstand – renamed the Dragonfly Apothecary and Grocer, in honor of Ann – will remain, welcoming all and sharing or selling meats, eggs, veggies and more.

Strengthen the collaborative:

The collaborative has grown to almost a dozen (human) members, working together as a malleable network who support each other as we can, and in whatever ways we need. Within this network, we generally work outside the monetary system, sharing labor, art, food and more. We’re building an online communication platform and trying to schedule work parties. There is the potential for so much more, though, and to explain where we want to go with this, I need to tell you a story.

Back when the pandemic began, my friend Adam decided to stop selling any of the food from the farm he was a part of, including the primary money-maker that was homemade bread. Instead of charging money, he’d give it all away. Gifting food and being neighborly are hardly new concepts, but they’ve fallen away with the societal expectations of independence. But Adam is still farming, and he hasn’t charged money for food or labor since 2020. Though this was a continuation of work he’d already been doing, it was a huge leap of faith – he calls it a trust fall. And every time he tells this story, he includes the part where his neighbors asked him, “But who’s gonna take care of you?” His response: “Well, I kinda figured that you’d help me out if I got in a bad way.” And upon hearing everyone say that of course they would, he asked, “Well, what if there were 60 of you, and why can’t we live in that world?”

Read that again: “Why can’t we live in that world?”

That’s the key for me. It’s not a technical question – I know the bank doesn’t accept eggs; the electricity company won’t take bacon. It’s an aspirational question. It’s a challenge. It’s a trust fall. Why can’t we – the BMC – become an enormous, dynamic network of heartbroken individuals joined by our desire to create a better existence? Why can’t you be one of us?

This is not a GoFundMe project or a one-time deal. This is me, offering you my hand while we walk into that world together. It requires all of us, with all of our skills – healthcare, seedkeeping, painting, storytelling, pig-rearing, blacksmithing, cooking and more – and it does, still, require money. I’m asking you all to become members of the collaborative, so we may better each other’s lives. Join in whatever way feels most joyful to you, whether that means offering your unique skills, gifting an item you no longer need, or contributing money.

Right now, a lack of money is the biggest obstacle to our continuation, so a great place to start is by offering funds.

The basic farm budget stands thusly:

• Grain for pigs and chickens: $600/mth, $7,200/year

• Crew member salaries: $3,500/mth, $42,000/year

• Diesel for tractor, gas for truck: $50/mth, $600/year

• Materials purchase (fencing, seeds, shovels, etc): $100/mth, $1,200/year

• Hay: 2,000 bales at $3.00 per bale, $6,000

• Total: $4,750/mth, $57,000/year

What if there were 1000 of us, and why can’t we live in that world? One thousand people would mean the average contribution need only be $57 annually. And members who work the farm, donate a cattle trough, or provide slop to the chickens, mean the budget can shrink. Everything done here, on this land, is offered to those around us. With the budget taken care of, we can gift food, put up fences at Bali’s, goat-sit for Aloysuis, house young farmers who want to learn, restore endangered species, loan tools and books, give talks, gift animals and more. Everything we do here goes to you, too. We can ship you garlic, share stories and photos, give you a place to stay for a night, or a week. Together, we can live in that world.

To get involved, you can contact me at milkweedtussocktubers@gmail.com, 315-777-7245 or 1190 State Highway 184, Heuvelton, NY 13654.

Follow us on Instagram - @bittersweetmilkweed - or on Facebook. Check out the website and donate here or through Venmo - @MilkweedTussockTubers.

I am so, so excited for the next evolution of this farm collaborative. I can’t wait for you to join. Please reach out with any questions, comments, or if you want to visit.

With Love,

Kia-Beth