I am excited to share an essay about my experience farming entitled Nothing Gold Can Stay. “A version of this essay first appeared in the Center for Humans and Nature Press on September 8, 2023, and is revised and reprinted here with permission.” I believe I was meant to be a farmer. In 2002, we bought land in the country, rented additional acreage, and started a vegetable farm. We were enthralled by the mysterious alchemy in the soil that transmutes sunlight into food and the challenge of joining a diverse community of people with disparate worldviews. We introduced idealistic college students and eclectic liberals into a conservative farming community, and the result was largely an outpouring of basic human decency and care.
Brilliant writing! I'd love to read more, though, about why the country life ended after seven years. If the main point of farming was the experience, rather than the maximisation of income, wouldn't it have been possible to continue this life at least part time, while also holding another job? Thanks!
Loved this. Especially the balance: not every conventional farmer is an evil monster. Even the pilot of the pesticide plane is part of the same community. Great dose of healthy reality.
Bill, thank you. You’ve touched on so many truths. Our bodies, if we pay attention, are intelligent and asking for the nourishment they need. My firstborn is “made of” my (then) neighbor’s’ incredible homegrown cantaloupes. I craved them to a comical degree. I’ll never look at a melon again and not think of this piece of fine writing.
Farming is such hard work! I live in Australia in a little rural village surprisingly close to Australia’s capital. These days I’m just a consumer, but we have a special regional setup that allows me to prepay for 13 weeks of local produce at a time so that the farmers can be guaranteed fair payment for whatever they produce. It’s such a joy each week to see what succulent options make it into my little half box of treasures. I get the chance to follow the seasons and eat their rewards. Life is good. Thanks so much for this literary delight. Yummy in its own way. 🤗🤗😋
Splendid. I have only two quibbles--one is the absence of explanation/description of the change that occurred at the seven-year mark; the other is, ummm....I forget. Maybe the choice of font. I don’t know. Anyway: splendid.
As the journey reached its apex in the savoring of the melon, tears came to my eyes. Memories of the sheer joy and wonder - born of a deeper connection and attention to nature - moved through me in resonance with your story. I particularly enjoy the pure tone ringing from your phrase: “an ephemeral distillation of place.” This piece equally conjures both appreciation and aspiration, for what is possible on a personal and collective level.
Love this story. I have been doing the gardening experiment on my little plot of earth for over 20 years and each season I learn new things through trial, error and experiment. I know for myself, like your article, the best cantaloupes I ever ate came from my own garden! And like Dr. Andreas Mathias, I’d like to know too, what happened after seven years, although I think you may have alluded to it being that you became a writer?
A lovely journey. Thanks, Bill. Your ritual with the Golden Gopher reminds me of mine when eating two of my favorite wild fruits: Creeping Snowberries (Gaultheria hispidula) and serviceberry/shad (Amelanchier spp.). Heaven!
I enjoyed your story. To me it wasn't important what happened after 7 years. What touched me, and was obvious to me, was the imense value of your experiences and how you were changed and found meaning. It was not the outcome that was important. Isn't that so with all spiritual growth?
Brilliant writing! I'd love to read more, though, about why the country life ended after seven years. If the main point of farming was the experience, rather than the maximisation of income, wouldn't it have been possible to continue this life at least part time, while also holding another job? Thanks!
Loved this. Especially the balance: not every conventional farmer is an evil monster. Even the pilot of the pesticide plane is part of the same community. Great dose of healthy reality.
Bill, thank you. You’ve touched on so many truths. Our bodies, if we pay attention, are intelligent and asking for the nourishment they need. My firstborn is “made of” my (then) neighbor’s’ incredible homegrown cantaloupes. I craved them to a comical degree. I’ll never look at a melon again and not think of this piece of fine writing.
Thanks Bill for these words. I have now read them twice and I'll return again.
Farming is such hard work! I live in Australia in a little rural village surprisingly close to Australia’s capital. These days I’m just a consumer, but we have a special regional setup that allows me to prepay for 13 weeks of local produce at a time so that the farmers can be guaranteed fair payment for whatever they produce. It’s such a joy each week to see what succulent options make it into my little half box of treasures. I get the chance to follow the seasons and eat their rewards. Life is good. Thanks so much for this literary delight. Yummy in its own way. 🤗🤗😋
Splendid. I have only two quibbles--one is the absence of explanation/description of the change that occurred at the seven-year mark; the other is, ummm....I forget. Maybe the choice of font. I don’t know. Anyway: splendid.
As the journey reached its apex in the savoring of the melon, tears came to my eyes. Memories of the sheer joy and wonder - born of a deeper connection and attention to nature - moved through me in resonance with your story. I particularly enjoy the pure tone ringing from your phrase: “an ephemeral distillation of place.” This piece equally conjures both appreciation and aspiration, for what is possible on a personal and collective level.
Love this story. I have been doing the gardening experiment on my little plot of earth for over 20 years and each season I learn new things through trial, error and experiment. I know for myself, like your article, the best cantaloupes I ever ate came from my own garden! And like Dr. Andreas Mathias, I’d like to know too, what happened after seven years, although I think you may have alluded to it being that you became a writer?
Your written story is as exquisite as a Golden Gopher. Balanced and sweet.
I’m going to send it along to a farming friend who lives in Minnesota.
Thank you.
A lovely journey. Thanks, Bill. Your ritual with the Golden Gopher reminds me of mine when eating two of my favorite wild fruits: Creeping Snowberries (Gaultheria hispidula) and serviceberry/shad (Amelanchier spp.). Heaven!
I enjoyed your story. To me it wasn't important what happened after 7 years. What touched me, and was obvious to me, was the imense value of your experiences and how you were changed and found meaning. It was not the outcome that was important. Isn't that so with all spiritual growth?