What does it mean to be a farmer? According to Merriam-Webster, it’s “a person who cultivates land or crops or raises animals” with a farm being “a tract of land devoted to agricultural purposes.” By those definitions, it seems reasonable to call ourselves farmers. Yet I hesitate to do so.

Some definitions go further to specify a farm is used as a business. And we did bring in a little money from our land this year: taking part in a dry farming research project, continued participation in a conservation program, and selling eggs. (Side note: I now have a waiting list for my duck eggs. Lay, ladies, lay!) However, we spent far more than we made. 

My attempt to expand our vegetable production was not very successful, so there’s been no cause for a farm stand. Talking to neighbors and farmers assured me that it takes time to build up good soil, and the first year is bound to bring disappointment. Not to mention the crazy heat wave in June and almost no rain since then. I’ve heard from many gardeners this hasn’t been the greatest summer for veggies. So with the drip lines not providing enough water in the field, I’ve been lugging a water can back and forth to grow the world’s saddest squash and pumpkins, along with miniature watermelons. Too bad that wasn’t a category at our local fair...

But even if I don’t consider myself a real farmer, I get to play one on tv. I’ve been working for Boistfort Valley Farm for more than a year now. Since June, my friend Heidi and I have been schlepping produce to two farmers markets a week. I’ve gotten to experience the joy in little girls’ faces when they see strawberries on the table or laugh at little boys who smash half their box of raspberries into their mouths before even leaving the booth. I’ve been able to wax poetic over the delights of summer’s first sweet corn or join people in marveling over the size and taste of Triple Crown Blackberries. There have been demanding and demeaning patrons, but most customers are happy to buy local and organic products.

Time at the markets has also shown me that I’m not the only one who finds this so very hard. When longtime farmers talk about their failures or the wish to just give up, I know I’m in good company. So many still have other jobs because no one goes into farming to make big money. [Huge conglomerates aside, of course.] We do this difficult work to feed people, to feed our own souls, to attempt to make our small patch of Earth a healthier place.

Yes, the early mornings, long days, bruises, loss in many forms, can make it all seem pointless at times. Sure, the learning curve feels steep as the distant mountain peaks some days. But then you hold a baby duckling or finally take the first bite of a juicy heirloom tomato or walk through the flower patch filled with old favorites and new friends... and it feels like this farming thing might be alright after all.