50 miles north of Boston, I grew up in a town that used to be home to a working dairy farm. In 2001, the farm was bought by the town to preserve New England’s agricultural past and to provide a space for locals to learn about farming as a skill rather than an industry. This farm was one of a few from my childhood that fostered my awareness and fascination about where our food comes from. Additionally, one of those farms was the personal homestead of my mom's former boss, Sally. Though Sally's farm is purely for her family to live off of, she would often gift others with beef, pork, or produce from her garden – which inherently brought her closer to her friends and colleagues, and sparked interest in her lifestyle.
With the ongoing industrialization of farming, comes the destruction of community. The reality that we can just buy all of our food without knowing where it comes from or how it was made is extremely isolating. Not only does this eliminate all senses of agricultural autonomy, it is also antagonistic to the concept of sharing what we have with others – be it knowledge or actual food.
In the last year, I have spent time with a handful of those in small-scale agriculture who are preserving the practice of cultivating food by sharing knowledge as opposed to just selling a product. This way, food security can be generated in a way that re-democratizes everything we once had to thrive, while also rebuilding the sense of community we had when small-scale farming was the norm. This series has thus manifested as a look into the lives of those who see farming as a life skill and a nurturer for community engagement.
