There is a world of difference between trying to disseminate one’s experiences and knowledge through the internet, and through real world / person-to-person communication. Both processes have their advantages and disadvantages, both can be effective, but only one feels truly and fundamentally useful to me. When it comes to the topic of sustainable agriculture, and when a single farm is treated as a case study, this summer I have learnt that it is generally much easier to educate people when you are on-site or at least face to face, rather than at a keyboard and computer screen.
I spent the winter of 2009-2010 living very much in an intellectual frame of mind. As a university student I was constantly forced to read and write and talk, and the only “doing” being tied in with those three other acts. Academia inadvertently taught me that researching, theorizing, and talking about organic farming was more important than actually gaining practical knowledge through hands-on experience; it taught me that reading peoples blogs, watching documentaries, and “snowballing” along through the internet (the act of following links/references from one source to another) was a decent way to learn about perspectives and techniques related to agriculture. Like any good student, though, I realized that research is only one step and that producing something which passes my understandings onto others is a next, necessary, step [though like every bad student, I didn’t attach importance to an educator’s need to see these “products” of learning for grading purposes]. Thus in the winter I attempted to keep a blog about my learning process, feeling that I wasn’t learning about sustainable food growing just for my own sake but rather because I want to help open up other people’s eyes to the changes that need to take place in our food system. I didn’t successfully “blog” though, as I never came up with regular postings; the medium “permacology.blogspot.com” ended up being a depot for my essays, mock designs, and other musings at the very end of the winter semester rather than during.
This summer I had hoped again to keep a blog about my learning process, with the main difference being that I was not tied to a computer for 5 hours a day (like I was in the winter) but instead was out in the field, quite literally. When I proposed that I could, should, and would make a habit of weekly blog posts sharing what I was learning, I assumed a few things. That (A) I would spend a significant amount of time on the internet on summer evenings as I did during the school year; and that (B) when I was using the world wide web, I would feel compelled to write about my daily experiences and longer-term discoveries and realizations; in other words that I would be excited to tell people all about Simpler Thyme Organic Farm through typed words and uploaded pictures. These assumptions proved wrong – the first for an expected reason (why live in internet-world when there are real people and places to explore mere metres away) – and the second, for a more complex reason.
While I have happened upon written and video blogs which seem to depict what someone knows and what they do, and the structure, processes, and dynamics of a farm in an engaging way, I didn’t find myself able to replicate these models. It was in part a matter of diligence and commitment: not feeling attached to the blog, not feeling like I HAD to present my realizations and understandings to the world on the internet {which was faulty considering that keeping a blog was/is supposed to be my final credit for a degree}; but it was also tied in with something else. I felt that trying to present facts and experiences about a real world activity like organic growing could not be done very well in a virtual world; I felt that any one picture, while it may “tell a thousand words” could not stand alone and would need to be shown within a wider context (involving a panorama of many pictures, a map, and a thousand actual words), and even then I could not convey all of what could be grasped by being in the actual locale where a picture was taken from.
What I had hoped to share with people through the blog, I instead found myself casually sharing with people on near-daily basis. For example, many times that a new wwoofer has shown up at the farm, I have been asked by one of the farm managers (Ann, more of a people manager than Bill, who is more of a ‘plant manager’) to give tours, or other times have just given them tours un-asked. Another example – some customers in the farmer’s markets do ask questions about the farm, what it’s like, how things are grown. Many people I just tell the basics (“I’m just an apprentice not one of THE farmers; they’ve been doing it for over 20 years but only 10 in its current form; the 50 acre property has planted on it almost every fruit, nut, berry, veggie and herb specie that can be grown in the climate and is easily available; no we’re not certified organic, but we do use crop rotation, interplanting, compost and manure instead of chemical fertilizers, and don’t use pesticides but instead rely on crop diversity for pest management and insurance”}. In these instances I am mostly just talking, not being able to directly show people the farm, but with some interested and patient individuals I can incorporate the diverse display of produce between us to help describe how Simpler Thyme farms and why, {“this basil here was interplanted with tomatoes; this cabbage was grown where peas were last year and the three sisters will be next year; and these currants and cherries were grown in the same area, a space that will look like a diverse forest in years to come”}. That whole process feels much more engaging than merely writing about interplanting, crop rotation, and forest gardening in an essay or blog posting because there is something tangible and real involved.
For me, real world education is also more valuable than dissemination of research through the internet because of the size and type of audience involved. When/if sharing an experience or piece of information on a blog, my words and images are only going to impact the handful of people who may know about or stumble upon the website. The people who do enter this niche of cyberspace probably are already interested in this topic, thus I am not really opening their minds to something new. When I am in a market selling produce, some people may also be interested in the topic of sustainable agriculture, but chances are most are just interested in the food they are buying from the perspective of taste, freshness, nutrition, and price. That is especially the case with the two markets we sell at in Hamilton: these are lower income neighbourhoods where people don’t seem as knowledgeable or interested in organic farming; indeed at one of these markets we are the only organic producer there, so it’s not as if people are drawn to that particular market knowing or hoping to find many organic options. The market in Dundas we sell at is different considering there are multiple other organic farms selling there, people tend to be in a higher income bracket, and on par are more aware of food and sustainability issues. Either way, no matter which market, I have a wide and diverse audience to talk with about organic farming, including many (many) people who probably do not surf the internet looking at blogs about farming and gardening.
Taking education to the next level, of course, are those instances where I get to show people around the farm itself. Usually when a visitor or new wwoofer asks for or agrees to a tour, I try to show them every region (or “zone” when talking permaculture design) of the farm: the main market garden with its raised beds, east-west for veggies and north-south for herbs and flowers, the places where perennials have been planted and what the garden will look like in the future, and how the crop rotation works; the other spaces where annuals are grown (three tractor-tilled fields, a couple of small flat-bed gardens, five hoop-houses); the spaces that are somewhat more hands-off where only perennials are planted and either producing already or still young; the tropical fruit tree collection which is partly outside in the summer, and moved inside in the winter; the pasture with its 10 cows and handful of other herbivores. I also walk these people into part of the forest with its 150 tapped sugar maples and shiitake mushrooms; and show them the animal enclosures, which are really close to the now-empty hothouse {“those metre-tall tomatoes outside started their life here in the late winter, before I got here”}, also close to the large walk-in fridge which keeps leafy produce fresh between picking and market. Of course I often show them other parts of the farm they need to know about (computers, laundry, the on-farm market, washrooms), when I am not blinded by my enthusiasm of the natural and cultivated ecology of the landscape.
What I am really showing people with these tours is that a farm can be a complex and diverse place with multiple types of food growing systems and techniques in place; this is especially true when I point out the 100+ acre corn field on Simpler Thyme’s western border – an example of a very different farming model right at our door-step. People are able to see for themselves that divergence on questions of “what is a farm” goes beyond some simple ‘organic versus conventional’ debate. This becomes even truer when people with some previous exposure to organic growing come to our farm; I remember the day that some interns from Plan B Organic Farm (a much larger operation) came for a first-time visit, and expressed excitement at the level of biodiversity on our farm compared to their organic farm. Not that this meant their farm and ours were comparable in a “better or worse” way, but rather that they were just manifestations of different planning paradigms and fulfilling different roles in the world of food production and education.
Although I was giving newcomers or visitors these sorts of tours already after my first couple of weeks on the farm this season, I have since mid-July started talking with people about one other thing that even many organic farmers and enthusiasts don’t get into: which ‘weeds’ are edible and how {while disclosing “I haven’t actually eaten this plant this way yet, I’ve only heard about it; but this plant here, it’s my favourite garden snack”}. Through this process I hope to convey to people something I really want to understand more myself, something I have only scratched the surface of - understanding food not just through intentionally planted cultivars, but also seeing all edible aspects of a landscape. It involves not just trying to turn people who merely buy and eat food into agrarians or gardeners, but also into gatherers and foragers. It is something which is more powerful, I think, than talking to people about how easily they could start a garden when they are done their “farm experience.” Instead it shows people that they, like I did and still do, ignore all sorts of food in all sorts of landscapes; the plants they once thought were “weeds” on their lawns turn into salad greens; the purslane and lambs quarters and plantain which grow between cracks on city streets and were thought of as a nuisance or mere curiosity are now known as delicious and nutritious food and medicine. And this whole process involves, again, something very tangible and real compared to internet dissemination: I don’t just type words and show pictures of the plants; instead I pluck a few leaves off of it, eat some right there and then in front of the person and offer them to try it as well. If possible I find younger more tender specimens and then older ones and let people sense the difference in taste and texture for themselves, rather than read and look at pictures about it.
I’ve also tried talking about the edible weeds while in market, and find it somewhat more effective than on-farm for one minor reason: feeding someone an edible weed from an organic farm probably feels acceptable, since they know/assume it’s coming from clean soil (from the same place the veggies they ate at lunch came from); when in market I can (and have, in the Hamilton markets) walk someone over to the nearest lawn, flower bed, or crack in the pavement and point out “this here is food!” In our downtown Hamilton market, I have gotten people to eat purslane and wood sorrel 5 feet away from our table full of produce – showing them how yummy these “weeds” are. I have in the other Hamilton market shown people lambs quarters, and (this time of year) been able to show them how one can extract the seeds from chaff while asking/telling them “Have you heard of quinoa? This here is its wild and local cousin, free and as local as you can get.”
With all of this I have learnt a few things about how much to try to share with specific individuals or groups of people. To rephrase: I have learnt that be it in market or on the farm, some people just aren’t all that interested in where food comes from, how it’s grown, or what actually constitutes food. I certainly have make the mistake of talking people’s ears off, causing them to sigh and roll their eyes; I have probably driven away a few sales by telling people all that I know about integrated pest management when all they asked was a simple “yes or no, does your farm spray pesticides?” When it comes to a green like kale, I have seen a few faces go blank when I answer their “what is that” with “its kale, in the brassica family, which means it’s a cousin of broccoli, cauliflower,...” It seems I am learning what ‘information overload’ means a bit too slowly. Conversely it also seems that I don’t yet know enough of what else people want to know: how to cook a squash like paddy pans, for example – I have only been able to tell them about the one way I cooked them (one time); same with kohl rabi, which I’ve put into one single coleslaw recipe, but can be eaten many more ways.
On the farm too, with my fellow co-wwoofers I gone into unnecessary details many times – or rather gone into necessary details at simply the wrong times (or not at all). I have had to relearn something I once thought more about in the past: that learning needs to be self-driven, not imparted from someone else; other than passing along facts which are truly important to work getting done, I try to slow myself down more these days. For example I know with one person I had once, weeks ago, told them about the brassica family and how kale, cabbage, kohl rabi, broccoli, and other crops are cousins – and because that fact had no importance to them at that moment they didn’t absorb it. But then a mere couple of weeks after that, the question came up of what farm task needed doing next, I knew that multiple beds needed weeding in the brassica section and said as much, and they asked “brassica?” There and then was the moment when that piece of information was actually important to that person, and when they would actually learn about a plant family – and I managed to hold my tongue when I thought of describing why the brassicas are a section of their own in the garden’s crop rotation.
One other important lesson that has been reinforced for me this summer is that knowledge gaining is a two-way street, education is participatory, and no one is ever just a teacher or learner but both at the same time. This is manifested a few different ways: when it comes to farming/gardening techniques, there is no “right” way to grow food, and it is always valuable to ask other growers how they do things; when it comes to identifying and eating foods, people often know certain plants by different names and eat them different ways, which depends quite heavily on their cultural upbringing. I have had these come up in multiple instances: when it comes to questions of growing techniques, I always enjoy when interns from other nearby farms come for a visit. I get to show off the work that Ann and Bill do and talk about what I have learnt, while I always get detailed questions thrown at me on top of mentions of “oh we do things this way....” When in market I also frequently get to ask customers who mention that they also gardeners about what they grow and how, and learn new things (for example, that cucumbers are great companions around tomatoes considering cucumbers are good groundcovers). When it comes to the food itself in market, I’ve learnt that one of the best questions to ask a customer who shows interest in a specific food is “how do you eat it?” I have learnt that sorrel is used in eastern European soup recipes, which I had never thought possible since I just eat it raw out in the garden (and have thought of being ‘adventurous’ by putting it in salads). One event that really impressed me was one time when I was selling four different kinds of mint along with 20+ other things in Dundas: I had forgotten which of two mints was “chocolate-mint” and “black-mint,” thus spent 3 hours having to tell potential buyers that I didn’t know which was which. There I was in the last hour in market, when a woman walks right up to the mint, picks up one of the bunches to take a smell and says “Mmmm, black-mint. Oh and you have chocolate mint right here too?!” She then proceeded to talk about recipes she enjoyed for other produce I had on the table; turned out she is a career chef and an avid herb gardener. The lesson there is that as a farm apprentice I am not just learning from farmers, but from anyone and everyone who has something to teach me; I can never assume that only I have things to teach customers in markets or novice wwoofers on the farm, when in fact knowledge is there to be shared two ways not imparted one way.
That is one potential problem with a blog: sure it can be participatory in that people can post comments (additional info., critiques, etc.), but such responses are delayed compared to real-world interactions, and depend on the mere handful of readers also making the effort to be writers. Surely one benefit of the internet as a medium is that is it more participatory than television, radio, or published literature – but being the most interactive amongst non-physical forms of communication is not much to brag about. A blog’s weakness is that people can treat it lightly, be detached, move away from what is boring, contentious, or just somehow not engaging or seemingly time-worthy. Furthermore, many people don’t absorb information unless they feel it is practical or applicable to their real life; I think that when facts are presented to someone in real life versus on the internet they inherently and automatically seem more relevant.
To make a concession, though: with engaging and interesting blogs and regularly-updated internet media, and/or those which have a significant following, more voices mean that potentially more information can be swapped at a faster rate than in real life. A researcher searching for detailed information on a specific topic, and finding the appropriate websites, can sift through information rather quickly and get to know what they want while being able to ignore “fluff” more easily than one can in face-to-face interactions. Someone who spends enough time on the internet or who “snowballs” efficiently can often discover previously-unthought-of perspectives and technical details about farming in a speedy way. When it comes to a body of knowledge in which someone already has exposure and want to delve more into, it can take 5 minutes to find out a desired fact on the internet while it might take days to weeks and substantially more effort to seek out appropriate places and people to learn from. Following through with this proposition, it can be argued that as a learner and teacher of sustainable agriculture topics I could do a service to others by posting my experiences and discoveries online in an engaging format.
What this essay is boiling down to is a request that the reader understand that any one person has to be selective about how and where they devote their time and energy, and that while someone can balance out how much they disseminate their knowledge through different media, it’s easier to focus on one form of communication than another. In my case blogging didn’t come naturally, while talking with customers in farmers markets and giving people tours of the farm presented little challenge and very much excitement. Furthermore, my opinion about the value of online communication has changed quite heavily as my lifestyle has changed: when living a largely academic day-to-day existence, surfing the internet and keeping a blog seemed like normal and ideal activities; when I stepped into the shoes (or bare-feet) of being a farm apprentice, the prospect of spending time on the internet to share my continuously acquired knowledge seemed unnatural and somewhat a waste of time. I consciously and subconsciously decided to ignore cyberspace and instead devote my energy to real world interactions, feeling that experiences shared and conversations had in person are more valuable.
I am also starting to believe that people should not only rely on electronic media to learn and store what they want or need to learn to survive and thrive in the world, as that assumes that our technology will be available to us in perpetuity. I feel that it is much more resilient for people to store important facts in their own minds rather than relying on internet browser bookmarks; and that people hearing and sharing knowledge through conversations, and seeing in real life how food can be gathered or produced, is a far better way to begin to fully understand the principles and techniques of sustainable agriculture.
Personally, I have learnt more about organic farming (and community, marketing, time management, and communication) over the past three months at Simpler Thyme than I ever have over years of research, and learnt in a way that will stick with me for life. I am discovering that it’s one thing to personally read about a topic at length, while it’s quite different to get your hands dirty. The same detachment/attachment split seems to be true when it comes to educating or sharing knowledge, with hands on teaching and conversation feeling more real than internet-based knowledge sharing. It feels far more participatory and holistic, and more valuable in the long-run.
