Scrap Farm- Starting an agroecological farm from scratch

Magda Nawrocka-Weekes
  • 0.0 (0)
  • HOME & GARDEN
  • UPDATED SEMIWEEKLY

We're starting a farm! Or at least we're trying to... After 4 years of learning and growing Magda and her partner are ready to farm for good. We're talking no-till, organic, soil-focused, community-building, back-to-the-earth goodness. Some real Solarpunk shit. If you're looking to learn more about farming or just want to see how this goes, join the journey. With in-depth updates as we try to secure land, crop plan and start a farm. xandua.substack.com

  1. 05/19/2025

    Ep.25- Dandelion Whine

    Hi. I'm Magda. I’m a farmer. This is my fifth year farming and my first year farming for myself, on rented land. This is Scrap Farm, the newsletter/podcast where I document starting a farm and all of the intricacies and problems that come with it. This episode is called Dandelion Whine, because I'm being funny and also because I quite recently finished reading Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury. When I started Dandelion Wine, it was in April, the book had this delicious sense of summer. Of bottling beautiful, glorious, sunshiny days. It was so good. The farm (we are starting a farm, you may have heard) was getting going. We were still waiting to till the ground but we were buying seeds and equipment. I finished Dandelion Wine in May and by then the vibes were disastrous. Not to spoil the book but it's about a child realising that everyone dies and that summer is over. And I did not need to hear that in early May, when we still haven't planted anything in the ground and the irrigation is causing more problems than I'll go into later. Honestly, it was a great book for April and a s**t book for May. The main result of reading it was that it put me in a weird mindset of feeling like I was behind this season. If anyone has ever started a small business, you're gonna feel behind no matter what you do, even if you're doing well. But actually, I think we are quite behind, and that's fine. Unfortunately, this feeling coincided with all the dandelions springing up. All their bright yellow blossoms covering the ground. Everywhere as we drove past, out to the farm to water our seedlings or over to go help harvest (at the farm that we had been working at last year), there they were. I had this feeling of endless, boundless possibility. Then all the dandelions shifted from yellow to white. One of my favourite things to do at this time of year is to make dandelion jam, which involves yellow dandelion flowers. Obviously. Not the puffy, white, less delicious ones. In the moment they changed from yellow to white, I felt the whole season has passed me by. Realistically, I was just being dramatic. When I got out of the car, and actually walked around. Stopped. Paused. In between all of the the white fluffy dandelion blossoms were still s**t-tons of yellow flowers. Thankfully, I have managed to harvest the prerequisite 365 flowers that I needed for my very specific dandelion jam recipe. Despite it all, I've made dandelion jam, and it's fine. It was a little later than I did it last year, but it was all okay. And the season has not started yet. The SUMMER has not started yet. So that has been my vibe; feeling like I'm behind and then having to calm the f**k down and realising I'm not. My life advice to you is to pause. Really look at what your problems are, and then make some jam. And yet this is called Dandelion Whine, because I do feel like I'm whining. But as I chastise myself, actually, I'm just sharing the realities of starting a farm. Farm Updates We have nothing in the ground. As of I'm recording this, it isthe 14th of May, and we still do not have plants in the ground. This is primarily because we still do not have water. The pipe that we were waiting on (we need 300 feet of PVC pipe to keep the water food-grade safe to wash our vegetables) was a week late. It got lost in transit. So that was one of the realities of farming for ya. Because of that, we were just straight-up a week behind. For a good few days we didn't know where a pipe was on the Continental US. Then came scheduling; my partner and I are working part time jobs. Our days off didn’t coincide with out landlords, which is somewhat essential then digging a 4’ deep 300’ trench and on his land. That means that as of the 12th, we finally dug a 300’ trench with a very specialised, massive piece of equipment (that we had to drive around on a trailer). And even I drove around on a trailer, which, if anyone knows me, that's absolutely terrifying. Long story short, we now have a trench with a pipe in it, which is fantastic! This is amazing news. I'm very excited about this. This pipe will allow us to irrigate the blocks that we have been preparing. We have a full 24 beds ready for planting. They're beautiful. They're pristine. But we still don't have any water for them. Interestingly, it has been a rainy May, we might have gotten away with seeding into the beds with no clue when we would be able to water them. Instead, I am thankful we are erring on the side of caution when it comes to transplanting, since we couldn’t even get water out to hand irrigate until yesterday. This caution might be a holdover from the 7-week drought we experienced two years ago that decimated the strawberry harvest but i guess that comes from knowing a place. Are we localising? Is this smart? Now the pipe is out there, another problem has arisen. Because why would we want things to be easy? The water flow rate from the well is supposedly 12 gallons per minute (which is a perfectly acceptable flow rate for the kind of irrigation that we're doing). At the end of our 300’ of pipe, it is coming out at 2 gallons per minute. 2 gallons per minute is not close enough to provide the flow or the pressure needed to irrigate our crops. We are in the midst of coming up with an ingenious method that involves filling tanks and using those tanks to provide the flow rate. But, of course, there are some limitations on how fast those tanks can refill after we use them to irrigate. At present, our living room wall is covered in Post-its to figure out what's going where, how we are connecting stuff, and exactly how much water we need for everything. Yeah. So that's another problem. We love problems here. In the middle of all this, we still have to start seeds. So I've been starting seeds that will be planted in a month's time under the assumption that in a month's time, we will have somewhere for them to go, and that somewhere will be waterable. I'm no longer making statements like “next week we will be able to irrigate” or anything fanciful like that. We are taking things way slower, scratch that, we're being cautious. We're not taking things slower than anyone else. We’re taking things as fast as they can go. I need to remind myself that the seeds we're starting are both hopeful and realistic. We are going to need plants to grow over the next few months. Caution only gets you so far. We have also put up our first YouTube video detailing what we did in the first two weeks of April. And while we were editing it, my partner looked at me and was like, “It's a bit embarrassing, isn't it?” And I hadn't really thought about it like that until now, but I think he’s right. Yeah. Starting a farm from scratch and making many mistakes along the way is a little bit embarrassing. But the thing is, it's also not embarrassing. Kill the bit that cringes, and all that. These mistakes that we’re making (then documenting and putting on the Internet) are only really embarrassing to us. People who have farmed on working farms for the past four years and have had a lot of guidance and advice on what mistakes not to make. But I still feel committed to highlighting them so that no one else makes them in the same way. Hopefully, someone learns something, or at least feels less like they're not the only ones making these mistakes. Embarrassment might not be the right word. We are still very much committed to learning in real time; to showing people the realities of starting a farm on less-than-ideal land. The YouTube video is linked below, if you're interested in seeing two people point at a field for twenty minutes. Hopefully, we have another one in the works. We’re aiming to release every couple of weeks to keep our friends and family updated. That’s about it for updates. The vibe is that things are fine even if they don't feel fine. That problems can be solved, and if you just look a little closer, there’s a lot of really good stuff going on. And I'm sure you could make allusions to that politically (but also there's a lot of bad stuff going on and we're all freaking out). For those of you listening I hope you enjoyed the funky fresh sounds of my c***y little podcasting mic. And for everyone else, thanks for reading/following/sharing, etc. Thank you to everyone who commented on my note about feeling so behind this season, you all made me feel seen and a little less alone in this. I appreciate ya. Right, I’m done. I'm going to my paying job. Okay. Bye. M Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website. To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee. If you missed the last update, read it here: This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com

    10 min

  2. 04/30/2025

    Ep.24- Budgeting in the Apocalypse

    My partner and I were out celebrating a friend’s birthday, and of course, collapse came up. Something about us having 5 years tops left on democracy. And Zach, my partner, made a joke about our budgeting. That really it won’t matter if we spend a little over the budget on food, if in a few years’ time society as we know it will fall. Which honestly, vibes. Welcome to Scrap Farm, the newsletter/podcast where I document starting a farm in the midst of all this *gestures wildly*. I would like to point out, as I have before, that living through an ‘apocalypse’ is not new, not by any stretch of the imagination. Indigenous people and those under the rule of colonialism, especially those who were enslaved or have undergone genocide, have within their lifetimes experienced many apocalyptic events. The political situation being what it is, with the looming tariffs and pro-Palestinian voices being spirited away, with the deportation of legal residents and absolute buffoonery that is dismantling the government piece by piece, it can seem a little apocalyptic. And that’s without Climate Change, which is very much here, heating up and getting stronger by the second. For many people, we must remember this is not their first apocalypse (hell, it’s not even mine, looking at you, COVID). But anyway, it begs the question, what is the point of budgeting at this time? I say this as someone on a pretty solid budget as we start our own business. As someone who spent most of her adult life on a strict budget, or a the very least a bit skint. But I really can’t muster up the reserves to follow our budget to the letter this time. Some of this is because I feel more resourced than I ever have. Supported by friends and family, doing a job that I know will be useful (the farming, the waitressing less so), I even have skills I didn’t have a few years ago. And more importantly, I know that there are people out there working on providing mutual aid, support, edible, financial or otherwise. I know this because I have been one of them, both giving and receiving. In tending and being tended, I have tested the tensile strength of the web around me, and like a trampoline, I had a little bounce. Which brings me back to the budget. I have plunged more savings than I have ever had in my life (which took me years to accrue) into a business. A farm business. In a crumbling economy. And right now we are just spending money; irrigation, seeds, compost. Thousands of dollars were spent like that. A truck ffs! But knowing this is part of the process is somewhat comforting. We budgeted to be able to do this without loans or grants in the first year. And since those are being actively dismantled (the advisor from the local government office quite literally shrugged when we asked him about grant likelihood going forward), it’s a good thing we planned for it. This is not to say that we’re better than any farmer who gets a sweet FSA loan or grant, but more that we hadn’t counted on them. Now the rug pull doesn’t seem so drastic (though it really really is! Trump is f*****g over farmers on every count). My partner and I are also being pragmatic. We both have part-time jobs to support us while we start this endeavour. Hence, the strict budget. It is interesting to see what the minimum amount of hours one can work is, while still paying all bills and having time to dedicate one’s heart and soul to a living, breathing farm. In this, we are lucky not to have too many expenses, medical or practical (or children, for that matter). Through this, I can see the farm slowly transforming into something. Something very f*****g tangible. Into rows of fresh slung earth. Into places for seedlings. Each bundle of green is a fresh and vibrant hope for a month’s time. Even my new job has brought me into contact with plenty of people and new information to learn. It’s been cool to leave my responsibilities at the door. So no. I’m not stressed about my budget. Yet food is getting more expensive. And that’s as someone growing it. So then I flip to the nihilistic side of it all, if we are all hurtling towards doom, I really don’t care if I spend an extra few dollars having a drink out with a friend. Or if I purchase ingredients to celebrate Beltane. Or if I buy a ticket for a bluegrass night ($10 at the local Queer bar). As my friend Billy always said in his wonderful Edinburgh accent, “Money’s for spending.” So I’m bringing that vibe to life. Responsibly, of course, I shan’t be partying to excess. But I certainly won’t begrudge myself the margins of error in a budget. And I will be buying the seeds/compost/equipment we need to make this farm viable. And hell, if it all does collapse, having irrigation and a tunnel are going to be worth their weight in gold, honestly. Farm Updates We’re really in it now, boys! Our landlord has tilled both blocks for us, which means we are moments from planting (well, a week or so). You may be asking how we plan to be no-till/no-dig while being excited about tilling. But this was it, the first and final till on the farm. From there came the laborious task of shaping all the beds. 2.5’ bed tops and 1.5’ paths. We made 12 of them in one very hot day. The process involves smashing dirt with a rake in the path area and dragging it onto the area that will be our beds. We will be doing a permanent raised bed system, meaning we will plant into the same spot over and over, year after year. We will build fertility into these beds and not disturb the soil more than necessary. This will help reduce weed pressure (over time), maintain soil structure and give us somewhere to focus on to make the best growing conditions possible. Our next step after bed shaping has been to add compost to the tops of the beds. This too was an endeavour. Our beds are a good 400’ from the compost pile. One wheelbarrow at a time, my partner and I brought out enough compost to cover each bed in an estimated 2” of compost. After that, we broadforked each bed, which is a way of aerating the soil and reducing the compaction brought about by the tractor driving over the area. We borrowed the Broadfork from the local tool library, and I am truly enamoured with the lending economy in this area. In the greenhouse, we have some wonderful-looking Salanova lettuce that is a week or so from being able to be planted. We also have some good-looking chard and kale. We have been having an absolute mare of getting our pepper and tomato seeds to start, but the daily temperature has been fluctuating quite a bit. We are now heating the trays from below with handy heating mats, and I hope this will do the trick for germination. This is one of the moments where a germ-chamber would have been useful, but we have limited space and were trying to limit expenses (I say this after my diatribe about the necessity of spending money). So this is a lesson for next year. Buy what you need for the tomatoes! They are worth it. Don’t wait them out. Our next few tasks on the farm are going to be big ones. They are coinciding (unfortunately) with graduation here in Ann Arbor. This means that our paying jobs need more attention than the farm, so balance has been critical. In the next week we will be putting up a 8’ deer fence around the perimeter of the growing area (as the area has been described as a ‘deer highway’ lol) and we will be digging a 300’ long 4’ deep trench to burry a pipe that connects the well with our growing area for irrigation. And then we will be PLANTING. It feels to me, who at this point on other farms already had a lot in the ground, that we are ‘behind’, but I remind myself that we started later and there is plenty of summer left to go. The work we put in now will last several years, and that too is a cheering thought. Oh, we might also be getting a hoop house. More on that soon. Anyways, I’m working on documenting all our work into a video for YouTube, but that requires a moment’s respite. One of those (a moment and also a video) is coming next week (hopefully). Until then, see you on the flip side. M Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website. To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee. If you missed the last update, read it here: This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com

    9 min

  3. 04/07/2025

    Ep.23- Solidarity Economy and Calling your damn senators

    Hello and welcome to Scrap Farm, the newsletter/podcast where I document starting an agroecological farm in Michigan. If you’re new here or are not sure if this is something you would be interested in, then here’s a rundown of some things I have talked about over the past year or so: * The UK VISA process and our unsuccessful attempt to move to the UK * The death of a mentor * Burnout and coopratition (cooperation + competition) * Petro-masculinity * Settler colonialism And so much more. All wrapped up in the package of small scale vegetable farming, seed keeping and climate collapse. Sounds like a laugh-a-minute, doesn’t it? No, but actually, it’s not all doom and gloom, despite my best intentions (and the attentions of global oligarchy). I promise it’s more fun than all that. We have carrots! Also, speaking of sound, it has come to my attention that my recordings have been, for some unknown reason, at double speed sometimes. Lightening-fast renditions of reading this out. Thank you to the people who pointed this out; it takes all your ears to pick up on weird technical things. I am now endeavouring to record on a real microphone. Not just my phone. Thanks too to my partner for letting me borrow his. More housekeeping: I have been mulling over how best to organise this. If you have been with me for a while (you brave soul), you might remember that I had future farm updates and current farm updates as my partner and I managed a farm and planned for a farm and tried to move countries. The fantastic news is that the Future Farm has become the Present Farm. The Farm! So, I’m going to be reordering my updates/episodes to account for this. I’m thinking I will begin by yapping about my personal life and the crumbling economy and then will give updates about the farm as it happens. I’m working on once a fortnight for the updates. At this time of year, I have plenty of time, but later, I will be swamped with part-time work and running a farm in the middle of the season. I wanted to build in the leeway I might need now. Basically what I’m doing now. Ok, so. Personal life updates: I have been very brave this week (said only partially sarcastically) and called both senators and my local rep about the deportation of Venezuelan immigrants by the US. Trump invoked wartime powers in peacetime to unlawfully detain and deport 261 Venezuelan citizens for no damn reasons. I used a script from 5 Calls, and my heart beat so fast, which is kinda embarrassing, but I’m going to keep calling. Apparently every call counts as 2000 people who care about an issue and is one way to get your elected officials to maybe do something. Also, my partner pointed out that it’s very interesting that Gen-Z and laaate millennials (like myself) are so afraid of phone calls but that’s what politicians actually pay attention to. What a convenient way to ignore the younger generation. And before anyone gets on me, this is not the only thing you can do to stop the polycrisis. It’s certainly not the only thing I’m doing. Yes, we need a complete overhaul of how we live, but I can still poke at those currently in power while working to improve the local system and resisting in less structured ways. I also believe this issue is more prescient than ever after the spiriting away and detainment of Mahmoud Khalil earlier this month and the arrest of PhD student Rumeysa Ozturk earlier this week. If anyone can be rounded up and threatened with deportation, either for their protesting a genocide or for their Tatoos (as was the case for some of the Venezuelans), this gives the current government the power to get rid of opponents and ‘threats’ however they see fit. The precedent has already been set. So I’m bothering local officials and finding other ways to resist. Ah yes, you read this for farming. But booiii are immigration and farming linked! I keep coming back to this article from January, which states that Central Valley Farmworkers are afraid to turn up for work because of deportation threats. The violence exacted on the people who feed us is unparalleled. And if you think this isn’t going to have a knock-on effect, with tariffs and whatever the hell else they cook up in that stupid white house, then think again. Agriculturally, this is going to be an interesting year. On the Farm So, anyways, with that in mind, my partner and I started a small farm this month. It’s a weird state to be in because we have been preparing for this for four years. We’ve trained as apprentices for two of those years and for the last two, we were managing someone else’s farm to get in that day-to-day managing experience (and a steady paycheck). And now we’re here! On Wednesday, the 26th of March, we signed a lease. We’ll be on roughly 2 acres of land with a building, electricity and water (though that might get tricky; more to follow). Just to get to the lease signing was at least a month's worth of work. We viewed two properties and had numerous discussions with the landowners of each. We went backwards and forwards with drafts and amendments, we enlisted the help of the MSU extension. We talked and talked. In between my relocation back to the States, we also registered a business. Got an Employee Identification number, opened a business bank account, and registered for government grant funding (if that’s even still a thing) in that order. We set up QuickBooks, moved into our new flat, both got part-time jobs, and I’ve made a website which has now launched. We also got an email, an Instagram, various quotes on compost deliveries, and feedback on licencing and insurance. Oh, and we’ve been announcing our return to all our friends here, which has felt wonderful if a little overwhelming. All this to say it has been a very busy 2 weeks. And we bought a truck! And silage tarps! An $700 worth of seeds. Since signing the lease, our first order from Johnny’s Seeds has arrived. It was a good chunk of our budget on tools and tiny pellets of life. And now it sits in the center of our farm office, ready for action. We have also collected soil samples from the field that we will be turning into permanent raised beds. We took 6 samples from a cross-section going about 8 inches down. We then mixed up the samples and are sending a bag of dirt (about 2 cups) to Logan Labs in Ohio for a full analysis of the soil and it’s possible deficiencies. Thankfully, our training at Boradfork Farm, VA (thanks, Dan and Janet) prepared us to interpret the results and my degree in biochemistry might be put to use for once. Once we have the soil test results, I might share a little more about what we’ll be doing to build healthy soil. We also met a Nathan, the Soil Sceintist from Spurt Compost, out in our field in the middle of a deluge. He dug up what can only be described as a brick of clay from the low wet spots where we plan to make our beds. We are going to have to put in some serious work in that section to ensure proper drainage, fertility and to reduce compaction. Last Friday was also a busy day. We managed to attend a session at the Building Our Solidarity Economy Conference held by UofM. At the session I got to hear about the efforts of The Rent is Too Damn High Coalition in organising rental strikes and direct action for renters. About the Miami Nation of Indiana and their voluntary land tax to help steward their land, language and people, along with the complexities that arise from receiving instead of giving. I also heard from Jamila Martin of the Movement Voter Project about strategic ballots to get involved in non-election years, specifically those to provide leave for childbirth. The session I attended was closed by the phenomenal Sherina Rodriguez-Sharpe and Chace Morris from the Tetra, a digital underground railroad, whose poem I am still thinking about a week later. This is the second event in as many weeks that I’ve attended in an effort to engage with the resources and networking available in this area. The first was a wonderful workshop on Seeding Dialogues, presented by V Shin of the "Borderless Seed Stories" project and UofM Seed Library Initiatives and my friend Caylen Cole-Hazel. I hope to attend the next one too, on the 4th of April. All this to say, I have been busy. We have, as of me writing this, started our first trays of chard, kale and green onions. The coming rain has us wondering when we will be able to break ground, but in the meantime, there are plenty of other things to keep us occupied. We’re scouring Facebook marketplace (boo) for people selling catterpillar tunnels but I think we are going to settle on building one ourselves. Which is pretty in-depth. When not at our paying jobs or testing soil, we have been having calls with extension agents and people from the FSA about licences, safety, insurance and more. We have applied to two farmers’ markets and have been accepted by one. We are preparing for a farm and garden showcase in a couple of weekends’ time. Oh, and we’re reconnecting with friends while we’re at it. No big deal. It has been hectic and wonderful to be back. It feels real and unreal and wild all at once. What a time to start. Thanks for your patience in between these updates. See y’all later. M Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website. To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee. If you missed the last update, read it here: This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com

    9 min

  4. 03/21/2025 · BONUS

    Support your local farmer; grown your own greens (I'm serious, it helps)

    Hello again. Here’s some unscheduled chatter, which I am endeavouring to do more of this year. Not just week-by-week reporting of starting a regenerative agriculture business with my partner, but also the thoughts that come up from it. This particular piece is inspired by a recent (but also recycled) post from Kollibri terre Sonnenblume about feeding ourselves out of our vegetable gardens. It’s well worth a read. What this piece brought up for me, and lead to a lively discussion with my partner, is how much farmers want you to grow your own food. Let’s give a little backstory here. Let me list my credentials. Over the past four years, I have been training on various vegetable farms to get to the point where I am now. Over this time I have taken every opportunity to talk to other farmers, to learn from them. Something I will continue to do. To exchange ideas (and recipes) and insights. To soak up all the information I can, to lead towards this very moment. I have trained, read, practised, took on more and more responsibility. For the past two years my partner and I managed an organic vegetable farm. And here we finally are, starting our own. Shameless plug if this sounds like something you might be interested in then subscribe. But throughout this time I have often discussed with other farmers what they like growing, and what they wish people grew more of. The food system, as it is, here in the US and back home in the UK, is pretty wack. Or, in fact, out of wack. It’s cheaper to fly, boat and drive in food than it is to purchase from local farmers or even to grow your own. It often makes me think of this meme. It gets me every time. But as Kollibri terre Sonnenblume and this delicious meme point out, there is a cost associated with growing your own food. It’s not as simple, or as cheep, as just putting some seeds in the ground. Even if the main cost is often time. But of course, there is also the sheer joy of growing your own food, which one cannot put a price on. That is to say, there are many sides to this. I also want to mention a good-ol’ piece from Sue Senger on how much space it takes to grow your own vegetables. She does some wonderful calculations on how much space you would need for a pound of produce per day. I honestly have so much love for the people trying to look at the problem of our food system head-on, and to give tangible and calculatable solutions. While I agree that producing your own vegetables is vital, I find it pretty unrealistic to expect people to grow all their own food. Especially those who are looking down the barrel of sanctions and food shortages, or at the very least heightened food insecurity. To go from 0 to 100, to do so in times of housing insecurity. It is unwise and honestly dangerous misinformation, to tell people to just grow a victory garden and they will weather the storm coming our way. Not that Sue is doing this, I am 100% behind her calculations and her calls to grow your own. But in this, I acknowledged that many people do not have the resources to grow their own food, to buy local produce, to find fresh vegetables within an accessible distance. And in this way I am willing to be a traitor to my profession. I think people should grow more of their own food. As a farmer, I encourage people to grow more of their own food. This may seem counter-intuitive. As if I’m chasing away customers. But my reaosns are threefold. Economies of Scale For a lot of crops, it will be cheaper and more efficient for me (a farmer) to grow them at a much larger scale than a kitchen garden. This is true of things like lettuce, tomatoes, garlic and onions. For an individual to have just one head of lettuce every week for most of the growing season you would need to plant at least 30 heads. And for things like lettuce, you can’t plant them all at once. To get a consistent flow of lettuce you would have to plant a couple of plants per week for 15+ weeks. You would have to have the space for that in your garden, the schedule to start a couple of seeds each week or, even more expensively, to buy regular transplants. A constant supply of lettuce is no mean feat for a home gardener. Whereas farmers, even ones on a small scale, can easily plant 800 lettuce heads every other week (that’s one standard 100’ bed spacing the lettuces in 4 rows 6” apart). A farmer can provide enough salad for 400 salads a week. Maybe 300 to account for spoilage and pests and people not really feeling salad that week. But that’s enough to keep you (and 299 others) in salad for the whole growing season, for as little as $2 a head. The same principle applies to root crops; carrots, daikon, turnips, beetroot, and radishes. A 100-foot bed, which is tiny on the farming scale, can produce at least 120 bunches of carrots. Planted consistently a farmer can provide roots at a scale that is hard to replicate in the home garden. Or grains, or dried beans, you’re going to need a couple of acres grown collectively to get you enough to live on. And that’s fine. It’s not impossible, as shown by the phenomenal Homegrown and Hand-gathered, but it sure isn’t the easiest. I say all this not to discourage you, but to point out the case where a farmer would be the ideal person to grow salad or root vegetables for a community instead of each member growing them for themselves. On the other hand, some plants are easier to tend at a kitchen garden scale: collards, chard and kale. Here a couple of plants are all that are needed to keep your household stocked with greens for as long as the plants can grow. I would absolutely love it if more of our customers grew their own hardy greens. I would feel no remorse hearing that’s what they were doing instead of buying ours. This is also true for peas. For the love of all that is holy, please grow your own peas. They are so hard to make commercially viable, but so delicious. On each farm I’ve been on they are grown for love, not money. Or microgreens. Ah, the list goes on! This may sound like I’m turning away my own customer base but this couldn’t be further from the truth. For one there will always be people without growing space and I’m happy to provide for them. For two, many people might find they don’t like growing certain vegetables, they won’t know that unless they try. And vitally, getting to talk to people about what they are growing is always exciting! This leads me to the next point. Encouraging Resilience Taking a chance on a new variety is not usually at the top of a busy farmer’s list of things to do that year. Not unless the seed has mysteriously become unavailable (I could rant on that later) or if they have had a particularly strong recommendation from another local farmer. But the joy of a home garden is that you get to try all the wonderful and weird varieties that farms don’t usually have the chance to grow. Personally, while I’m also planning a whole farm, I am also shopping for grexi (grexes?) and cool breeding stock from the Experimental Farm Network for my personal garden. By growing a wide variety of plants and even members of the same species in a bioregion we build resilience into the local food system. The more we experiment with varieties, the greater chance there is that something will adapt to the changing climate. Home gardens and small diversified farms are at the forefront of protecting genetic diversity and thus climate resilliance. Resilience is not just found in the varieties we choose to grow but in many people growing many things all at once. If a farmer has a crop failure, which is becoming more likely within our collapsing climate, having a home garden is a backstop. A fallback. So not only do home gardeners get to experiment, to have more options in the case of disruptions to the food system but they also get to learn a vital skill. When we learn to grow food, as Roots & Reinforcers pointed out in their piece on Behavioural Cusps (or gateway hobbies), we open the door to preserving, learning new varieties, to noticing the local fauna that eats our crops too. Growing food is a gateway to a realm of knowledge; a great inspiration. The more people that know how to grow food, the better equipped our communities will be to weather the coming chaos. Abundance There have certainly been times in my life where I have caught myself in the capitalist trap of ownership, of gatekeeping, of scarcity. But if working with the land, with the non-human beings and the changing seasons has taught me anything it’s that when we move from abundance s**t just works better. I could spend my time opining about how home gardens are going to put small farms out of business. Or I could look at the shattered food system and think farms of every scale and home gardeners are all essential parts of transforming this broken system. By tapping into the knowledge of local people, into the passion of hobbyists and connecting with the sheer joy of growing, we might make something better. When we move from a place of enough, which is I’m sure going to get harder and harder, we have the chance to provide for ourselves and others. Tomato plants don’t worry that the plant next to them is also producing pounds of delicious fruit, they just make their own. Giving freely and in return we (hopefully) save their seeds. We enjoy their bounty, we tend to them. This sounds very woo-woo, I know. But moving from a place of abundance, a place of enough, has helped me to not see myself as a lone fighter in the saving of our food system (a very white saviour thing to think, honestly), but as a small part. A tiny mushroom in a lively mycelial network. If encouraging people to grow their own kale loses me a couple of kale sales, so be it. If those people eventually come back and tell me a new method for keeping pests away, if they share some saved seed, and some insight, then it will be worth it. If they come back in a year and say they do

    11 min

  5. 03/17/2025

    Ep.22- Michigan moves

    Hello again. Welcome, or indeed, welcome back. Scrap Farm is the newsletter/podcast where I detail how my partner and I are starting an agroecological farm. I’ve had an influx of new subscribers over the past few weeks, which has been wonderful. But I thought I would re-introduce myself and what I’m trying to do here. Hi, I’m Magda. I spent the past 4 years learning to farm. The most recent two involved my partner and I managing a farm (and a team of 6, and volunteers and U-Pickers) in Ann Arbor, Michigan. The two years before that I was a farm apprentice in both Virginia and Colorado. Each of the farms I learnt on, that my partner and I learnt on, since we met on the first fated farm in Colorado, have taught us about ways to grow both vegetables and a business. This year, in fact this week (eeeeek), we are embarking on the next stage of our farming journey. We are hopefully signing a contract with some land that we wish to lease and then starting to cultivate our own business. For those of you who have been following my journey for the past year, the question has been ever-churning. The US or the UK? Can we get a visa? Will we? Do we want to? While I don’t have the perfect answer for each of those, we have come to a decision. We’re moving back to Michigan. Hell, we’ve moved back. I’m here now. This decision was not taken lightly. And in some ways I feel very defensive of it, though my friend and family have all been supportive. And I truly appreciate them for that. But in the end it was a decision that had to be made, between my partner and myself. We could no longer prolong the liminal stage we were in. I had, since November, been applying for any and every job under the sun that would provide me with the requisite £29k annual income needed for the family visa. For anyone asking why we didn’t just get married, unfortunately it doesn’t work like that. You can be married (or live together for over 4 years like we have) and still need the ordained income to prove you won’t be a ‘drain on society’. An income that is more than the average income of farming FAMILIES in the UK, let alone individuals. I could not get a job that met this requirement, and my partner and I could not remain in limbo for several more months. Some of this, of course, is absolutely terrible timing. I began job hunting just before the Christmas season, in a time when people are going to be fearful of hiring (what with the change in administration and all the s**t Trump has already stirred up). Apparently in February there were also 24% fewer jobs than the year before. Not great timing there either. I have also obviously been out of the country, and out of an industry that pays that well for 4 years. And vitally, the farming season is about to start. All of this seems like I have to justify this choice. But in reality, it is the best choice for my partner and I at this time. Things change, situations unfold. Am I sad about leaving my friends and family in the UK yet again and going to a place which is activly dismanteling tielsf before our very eyes. Yes, thanks for asking, I am. But, I am not one for half-arsing, for not giving it my all. A choice has been made. A choice hummed and haared and discussed in a loop. Our choice. So here are some things I’m excited about when returning to Michigan: We have a group of friends that have been delighted to hear we are returning (and I can’t wait to catch up with them all). We have two possible land options for us to use over the next 1-3 years, and with the guidance of the MSU extension service, we are firming up leases. The libraries in Ann Arbor are so well funded and I can go do more letterpress. We have found a cute flat in a nice area that is cat friendly, and ideally won’t move for the next couple of years. Some of my friends have said they will visit me in the summer!! My parents might visit me in the summer! My partner and I will be on the same continent again, in the same house, working on something we are both so passionate about. Everyone needs to eat, and with tariffs coming in there will be more need than ever. It’s going to be one hell of a time to start a business but at least it’s in something we all need (food). Future Farm Updates Or is it the current farm at this point? I think I’m going to have to update my format a little. On Saturday, we went and looked at one of the prospective sites that we will rent this coming year. It is two acres with a building, use of a greenhouse, water, electricity and a very supportive seeming landlord. Hopefully this week we will tour the other site, which is a smaller half acre fenced in area, with water/electricity access, use of barns and on a working seed farm. Both of there options are viable and exiting, once we see them my partner and I will evaluate the best option and sign a lease ASAP. From there we will almost immediately start seeding for this year’s planting. In the meantime, we will be ordering all the equipment (tools, soil, bins, carts etc.) that we need to get going. This includes making a website, which I’m very excited for and having a friend design the logo. We have now officially filed to be an LLC on the Department of Licensing and Regulatory Affairs website (LARA). We’re also filing a Doing Business As form to secure our name. Once we have these done, I hope correctly, we’ll be able to set up our business bank account and then from there start ordering all our items etc. If this all works out, I’ll probably write a more detailed order in which to do things so that the next person starting a farm can have a bit of a clearer step-by-step. My partner and I are also interviewing for various part time jobs to support at least our first and maybe out second year of farming. So it is all systems go out here. I hope to have a more detailed update for you all soon. Thanks for sticking with me, M Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website. To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee. If you missed the last update, read it here: This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com

    6 min

  6. 02/17/2025

    Ep.22- On lineage

    Welcome to Scrap Farm, the newsletter/podcast where I discuss starting a farm, its realities, and the work towards a fairer and more just food system. I’m Magda and this one is going to be a difficult one. I’ve had a bit of an influx of followers recently which, if anything, has made it harder to write. This is coupled with the fact that I have no news, nothing, nada. No job. For those of you unaware of the situation I need a job that pays £29k annually to get my partner into the UK. And boiii is the incentive to move to the UK more pressing than ever. We have no updates on land in the UK, where I am currently after two weeks of visiting my partner in California (yes, it was a little ablaze as I arrived). There was some movement, some jostling on the front of land in the US but that is still very much in the air. I have very little to report. And that has made me dread writing an update. But I remind myself that I am writing this to show the difficulties with starting a farm if you aren’t landed, rich or very lucky. To show the reality of international moves. Of the food system. So after a good internal talking to, I coaxed myself into writing last week. Then my mentor died. It was, in all ways, unexpected. At an alarming rate, farmers are committing suicide, not just in the US but in the UK too. I may talk about this another time but for now I want to remember the man. My partner and I had talked to him less than a month ago. He had told us, my partner and I, he was proud of us and excited for what we would do. Even typing that makes me want to hurl my computer out a window. Casey Piscura taught me about plant breeding, seed keeping, vegetable growing and showing up for community. After an absolute shitshow of a year he and his then-partner Kirsten nurtured my world-weary 26-year-old soul back from the brink of despair. They did so with hard labour, delicious meals and the kind of grace I was lucky to be afforded. Working on their farm in Colorado I realised that farming was something that I not only could do but that I wanted to do (possibly forever). It was a busy year, I was learning the basics of plant breeding, I was realising the dream of feeding people with real dirt work and I was falling in love. This was the farm where I met my partner nearly 4 years ago. Where we began our journey together. Working at Wild Mountain Seeds for just one season was the foundation the rest of my farming career has been built off. The high I chase when dreaming of the future. I came to them broken and burnt out and left beautifully exhausted and solar-powered. During my first few weeks at the farm, when I was still testing how much British sass the Americans can take (turns out quite a lot) I asked Casey about feeling bad for killing all the tomatoes he left out in frost trails. I was just making conversation. But I was also kind of being an arse. His earnest answer took me off guard, that he felt a great responsibility towards stewarding the varieties. Finding the strongest, the most hardy, but he still thought about the sacrifice of each tomato plant. This passion, and compassion, can be tasted in the varieties he was working on. Frost-tolerant, purple-stemmed wonders, sweeter than sense, in all miraculous shades. More than the fruits of his labour was that honesty, that interwoven care, that cracked open a little bit of my brittle British self. Told kindly and sincerely. The old proverb that Casey quoted most often was that “the best fertiliser is a farmer’s footsteps.” Bring attention to what you do and it will bloom. At all times try to bring even a fraction of the attention that he brought to farming into what I do. Casey was kind, passionate and different. I think this is important to say. Not to disparage him, but to point out the joy in that. As the highest honour. He bred vegetables, marvellous, delicious, soil-spun varieties. Stewarded with such attention. From their glorious differences, the mutations, the ‘imperfections’, he created sweet, colour-blushed strains. From the plethora of maxima squash varieties, he made a culinary landrace that to this day I have never tasted better. From all the little differences he coaxed something so beautiful. He did that with apprentices too, though people are more complex than vegetables. Casey gave people the space to be themselves and acknowledged his own humanity at the same time. I will be forever grateful to him for that. As I try to forge forward on the farming endeavour I have been thinking about lineage. The people we learn from. I was taught by Kim Bayer of Slow Farm, Janet Aardema and Dan Gagnon of Broadfork Farm, I was taught (through reading/podcasts) by Carol Depp, Vandana Shiva, Chris Blanchard, Rowen White, Dan Brisbois, Chris Newman, John Navazio, Owen Smith Taylor and Chris Bolden-Newsome. There are so many more. But before that, I was taught by Casey Piscura and Kirsten Keenan. I owe them a great debt I may never repay. But last season, and the one before it, I got the chance to begin teaching people how to farm. My partner and I were on the other end of the training, shepherding a team as best we could. I now get to check in on the people we taught and see what they are doing. And I could not be prouder if I tried. One is a grower for Refugee Garden Initiative which provides income for single immigrant mothers and the other started a seed swap and workshops through her library job (for which I did a couple of talks). There are more of them too and caring and nourishing wherever they go. The flow of knowledge goes both forward and backward. It’s not something to hold but something to give freely. And now comes the bit I am loath to do. Not because I am not excited, truly I am, but because it feels sleazy to promote something off the back of this recent news. But I remind myself, that I want to share the knowledge that has been shared with me, I want to connect with other young farmers and get a conversation going, I want to nourish connections and let people know they are not alone in this. At 19:00 on the 20th of February, I will be hosting a Speaker’s Corner with Emergent Generation. My talk will focus on Seed Keeping and all that entails. From the basics of plant breeding to the technicalities of saving, processing and cleaning seed, to how this is useful in climate resilience. It’s free to anyone and everyone, though for people aged 18-35 interested in changing our food systems and working to restore our ecosystems, I would urge signing up with Emergent Generation. That’s as much plug as I feel comfortable with, honestly. And all of this has barely touched on the worsening situation across the pond. Federal funding for grants (such as for greenhouses) has been paused indefinitely, the government is being actively dismantled, and some little tech-boys have access to the treasury. Guantanamo Bay, which never closed I would like to point out, is EXPANDING. Let’s call a coup a coup. And I still can’t get my partner into the UK (something we have been talking about for years, but now feel like we’re running away, it’s complicated)! In all this political grief, which I am trying to not let it freeze me, there is the personal grief of losing my mentor. More than that, my friend. When I work my way through the fug of despair these days I am reminded of lineage. Of the flowing of care, attention, of passion and knowledge, that I am just a small part of. That Casey was just a small part of (though a big part for me). That we are teachers and being taught. There are good people out there fighting on all different fronts, and we each only have to fight on together. That is not to say we should slide complacently into the bitter goodnight that the US seems intent on enforcing. Nor let despair drag us down into inaction. But if you look, you will find people doing things. Join them. Volunteer at your local food bank, protect the abortion clinics we have left, talk to your neighbours, donate to institutions you believe in, and berate your local representative. And of course, Boycott, Divest and Sanction. Support people who put their bodies on the line to protest, either with food or funds. I keep thinking about the United Farm Workers’ support for the Black Panthers, about how all our struggles are interwoven. So here it is, grief-stricken I am carrying on. Heartbroken, I am persisting. When I know what we are doing next, so will you all, but for now See you on the flip side, M Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website. To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee. If you missed the last update, read it here: This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com

    8 min

  7. 01/13/2025

    Ep.21- Convocation

    Welcome to Scrap Farm, the newsletter/podcast where I discuss living seasonally, adapting to climate chaos and whatever else, all in the context of trying to start a farm in the UK (probably, maybe). If you’re new here, hello, hi. To those returning, welcome back! I report to you live from the trenches of job applications. For those of you unaware of my current situation, I need to get a job that pays £29k annually for my partner to be allowed into the country. During the Visa process, it took us just a little too long to figure this out and we are now in our respective family homes (he in California and myself in London) as we sort this s**t out. By sort this s**t out I mean frantically applying for jobs while also looking into loans in case we return to Michigan (where we were running a farm for the past two years). It’s a weird time. Made weirder still by the fact that the first ‘interview’ I had in a while was actually for an MLM (a Pyramid Scheme, apparently legal). Honestly, there were red flags from the start; the first ‘interview’ was just being talked at by a ‘director’ of the company, then there was an ‘essential questionnaire’ that just asked about availability, then a phone call congratulating me on getting that far (I hadn’t spoken to anyone yet). The real kicker came in the second ‘interview’ when my interviewer, a 19-year-old (fresh out of his A Levels) and I were put in a breakout room. We were all Polish. I honestly think this was so we would ‘connect’ with the interviewer and not look too closely at the company or its scammy scummy nature. After another half an hour of being talked at, my blood was boiling as I realised how the ‘payment system’ worked. Either become part of the ‘management team’ and endlessly recruit or become a door-to-door salesperson for British Gas (and get paid on only commission). They asked me which route I was interested in. I answered honestly; neither. The interviewer even tried to neg me into the job, ‘Didn’t I want to learn sales’, as if years of experience were suddenly negated. As if I didn’t have the drive to do their s****y job. When asked I refused to tell them what their red flags were, no way was I helping them improve. Righteous indignation is one hell of a drug. The rest of that morning I spent on the phone with Trading Standards reporting them and then to the Equalities and Human Rights Commission (which I was directed to but technically I wasn’t actively discriminated against they just were scuzzy about dividing people up based on ethnicity). I wasn’t expecting anything from this but to get something on record about the company’s hiring practices. Sufficed to say I don’t think much will come of reporting them but I really appreciate everyone I talked to and their guidance on how to proceed. And if you’re applying for a job at Steppe2: don’t. RUN. The s**t part of all this is that this company is getting impressionable young people to work for poverty wages. They expect them to live off the love of the grind. And if they survive that, to bring more people in on the scheme. I would have fallen for it if I was fresh out of sixth form too. Luckily I’m thirty and bitter. Oh, yeah, I turned THIRTY on Christmas Eve. Or as I call it ✨ Magday ✨ The other s**t part of this whole ordeal was that I was so desperate for a job, so willing to look at any opportunity, that I ignored several red flags. I am privileged enough to not have to take this scammy job, but many people are not. Absolutely terrified for anyone who moves to London for it. Or for this to be someone’s first experience in the workforce. Anyway, the job hunt continues. Current Farm Updates Ok, yes, I know, I have no current farm. But I wanted a separate space for the Oxford Real Farming Conference which I attended in person last week. While I don’t have a farm to represent at the moment, it was a valuable opportunity to connect with people in the agricultural scene here in the UK. To refill my cup and to get as mycelial as possible. On the theme of labour, it was wonderful to hear about the formation of SALT Union, and their joining of the larger Bakers and Allied Food Workers Union, which allows them to provide more for their members. SALT stands for Solidarity Across Land Trades and is for all workers of the land. They made a valid and often overlooked point that the agroecological movement pushed for the ends to justify the means at times, that the dream of a more ecologically integrated future is supposed to be enough to overcome the abuses of power farm workers experience. This is unsustainable, we can’t build a better future by burning through passionate workers. Their report on how workers become ‘Burntout, Overworked and Underpaid’ can be found on their website. I strongly encourage anyone working the land, or who was forced to leave because the work became unsustainable for them, to join this union. One of the most poignant moments in the conference was hearing about migrant workers from Latin America who had been brought into the UK on Seasonal Workers Visas by the company Haygrove in Herefordshire. After being kept in unsanitary conditions and being actively discriminated against they went on strike, the result of which is that they were asked to pay back the cost of their visas plus interest! Eventually a ‘deal’ was reached with the workers that they would not have to pay this back but would instead have their flights home paid for if they left immediately. Once off the property, the workers were told they were in breach of contract and practically abandoned in London. This was in 2023. Some have yet to return home. There will be a protest against the government’s neglect of these workers outside the Home Office on 24th January at Midday. It is so easy when farming, when trying to farm, when caught in the daily grind, to not look up and think about how much worse others have it. But if we are to really transform the food system, we must protect those who are the most vulnerable to exploitation. As always the Land Workers Alliance and La Via Compesina, who have been working tirelessly to build solidarity, especially with farmers in Palestine, are a great example of this. But I’m also so excited by the creation of SALT, it is so very necessary. Another heartening moment was hearing about the twinning of Battir Co-operative Society for Food Processing and Production in the West Bank with Fruit Works near Leeds. Farmers from both organisations have been sharing information and building tangible bridges, including a virtual marmalade-making session. Another session I really enjoyed was about funding the Agroecological transition, where the point was made that farming already has loads of funding but unfortunately, it is all funnelled into massive players. What is needed is a damming of the flow of capital and a redirecting towards a just and sustainable food system. In this session, I heard about the push for a Basic Income for Farmers, which is beginning to trail the concept in small clusters. A Basic Income would allow farmers, who earn well below the average income in this country, to be able to focus on suitability without sacrificing the bottom line or their mental health. As Alex Heffron points out “Farmers cannot go green if they are in the red”. Another person I took almost feverish notes on was Meshark Sikuku of Ripple Effect, who is working to help rural subsistence farmers in East Africa transition to more productive, profitable and vitally sustainable farming practices. He spoke of the adoption of amaranth and other climate-resilient crops, the use of keyhole gardens for water preservation and the ‘push-pull’ method of integrated pest management. Along with their rural programs, Ripple Effect runs a Garden Twinning Project to help build international solidarity with subsistence farmers. And finally, I have already downloaded quite a few reports from Nourish Scotland, where I was introduced to the concept of Public Diners, an alternative to food banks. Or at least a complement to them. In a Public Diner, which would ideally be supplied by local farms, people can eat nutritious, local food for free with the people in their community. Bringing people together and reducing the pressure on households to provide and cook every meal. I feel this only briefly touches the surface of the information I gathered at the conference. Thank goodness they make all their sessions available on YouTube for me to watch back and share liberally. Though at times the conference felt overwhelming, as there were so many problems to solve, so many challenges we face, it was also very hopeful. There are people working on each of these and places where I can and will lend my energy. Future Farm Updates Ah yes, a little less hopeful on this front. My partner and I had a very informative discussion with the FSA about a loan for land we looked at in Michigan. Land my heart yearned for but reality has other ideas. The local loan agent was more than helpful and talked us through the information we would need from our mentor about production and financial histories, along with how to fill out the form the most effectively. Unfortunately, we got towards the end of the call and were going over some of the details of the property and we hit a real, very solid brick wall. The FSA will not give out loans for land with a house on them that are under 10 acres. The land we looked at is just over 5 acres. F**k. While we are still exploring our options, it is unlikely that a traditional bank will give us a loan for that property. The FSA gives out these types of agricultural loans because farmers are such a high-risk investment. The government legally cannot compete with banks in offering these loans. So the condition for said loans is that you can’t get financing from any other institutions. An FSA loan is basic

    12 min

  8. 12/23/2024

    Ep.20- Old Frames, Old Fruits

    Welcome to Scrap Farm, the newsletter/podcast where I discuss living seasonally, adapting to climate chaos and how to make jam, all in the context of trying to start a farm (possibly in the UK but at this point who knows?). If you’re new here, hello, hi, welcome. The next few weeks are likely to be less farm-centric and will harken back to my older writings for this newsletter. Writings on ‘weeds’ and foragables, on pagan festivals and the ever-turning wheel of the year. To those returning, also Hi. When it comes to farm updates, my partner and I are more or less where we were last week. That is, stuck in the tichy indecision, or not even indecision, but in having to keep our options open. I have applied for countless more jobs, and been rejected from quite a few. We have, however, submitted our US business plan to see if we qualify for a USDA loan on a property we toured back in October. Thinking about that land it seems like a lifetime ago. Thinking about the land we toured in the UK also seems very far away. Being in the UK hinges on me getting a well-paid job, and how long we can hold out and wait for that. Being in the US hinges on whether we qualify for a land loan. Lots of hinges. Such a liminal time lol. Oh also I just listened to the above podcast and for once I felt like the business plan we’d drawn up might be better than we think. Or at least we ahven’t forgotten any of the easily forgotten expenses of running a farm (but I’m sure there will be others). In Theory Some actual news is that I passed my UK theory test. At 29 years old! What a marvel. For those of you who wonder how it got this far, I grew up in London and had no need to drive until I started living in the US at 25. I would also like to say that I got my American license in one week in New Orleans. I drove my instructor on her errands, to shop for her daughter’s birthday present and to pick up coffee. My ‘theory’ section was learnt in 8 hours in a room where I was the only person who hadn’t been driving for years already (everyone else had got caught driving without a licence, so the course for them was mandatory). I spent a week dodging drunk tourists, potholes and horse manure. And then suddenly I was allowed to drive. Even then I hadn’t really needed to drive, I got confident with driving a couple of years ago (my partner is a saint for surviving that long and for trusting me with his manual cars). Compared to the paper multiple-choice questions and 10-minute drive around the block that got me my Louisiana licence the UK system is quite severe. The US is actually one of the only countries where the driving licence isn’t convertible in the UK. I wonder why (it’s actually because regulations are so different state-to-state). Spotty driving history aside, I was more than apprehensive about the theory test for which I had been cramming via App for about three weeks. Turing out my pockets (and dropping hawthorn seeds on the carpet), panic-clicking on a pile of leaves in the hazard perception section, I was sure I was going to fail. But no. Passed! I’m now working on getting a couple of lessons to prepare for the practical test. This might not seem like big news but when it comes to insurance, and ease of movement having a UK licence was a bit of a stumbling block for our plans to farm here. It seems hopeful to have passed. It feels like actually moving. In any direction. Quite literally taking the wheel. Old Frames Another tiny life update is a superficial one. But in it being so it gave me plenty to muse on, to chew on like gristle. It began because I needed to get new lenses for my glasses. The last time I got new glasses was seven years ago they were free (I was a student in Scotland). In that moment I saw the world for the first time, I got contact lenses. Up until that point I had been walking around in a stubborn blur. The joy of seeing every leaf, making eye-contact with ease, and communicating so much better has yet to wear off. Saying that I do love my glasses, the frames, not least because they make me look kinda hot. But that’s not the point of all this. The point is that new lenses in old frames cost more than buying a new set of glasses to reuse my old frames. That the sales assistant was unsurprisingly very pushy. And more annoyingly, the frames I could choose from (but refused to) were visibly lower quality than the ones that had survived 7 years on my face. But unfortunately for Specsavers, I am persistent, some would say contrary. The interaction, the insistence on the new (worse), and the prohibitive cost of reusing made me pretty fuming. It got me thinking about the Right to Repair in Europe, which of course, Brexit has had a hand in scuppering here in the UK. If it’s a struggle to fix something as small as a pair of glasses think of all the tangled, entrenched systems and thought patterns that are bogging down our food system. Our carceral system. And yes, it’s glasses, it’s not that deep. But I’m a poet and a drama queen so it is that deep. Speaking of which I loved Danielle Urban’s Front Porch Threads and the beginning of a series on visible mending. Along with The Restart Project’s work to support the Right to Repair. Spiced Plum Jam Since there is not much to report on our progress farm-wise, I will instead report on how I have been filling my days. Now the jetlag has worn off I am diving headfirst into the joys of this season. I have been overloading on festive podcasts, from quick almanacs, to traditional songs, to deep dives into various aspects of Yule. You’ll find these resources dotted throughout the newsletter. One of my favourite activities of the past week, between passing my theory test, countless cover letters and Beta-reading a friend’s book, has been making Plum Jam. We just polished off my mum’s Damson Jam. Damsons, a small subspecies of plum, native to Great Britain but found across Europe. They have a bright, somewhat puckering flavour and make a fantastic Jam. When I was growing up, a Damson tree overhung my grandmother’s front garden. Each year she or my aunt would make Jam from its abundance and dole it out to the rest of the family. It’s a flavour so linked to her and her overflowing garden, to her kitchen-table Britishness. My grandmother’s death towards the end of 2020 spurred me to quit my stable job and pursue farming. She had encouraged me in my love of plants, of food. The loss of her was a catalyst, a flame under the lingering feeling the pandemic had brought on. Four years later, and fresh in the loss of my other grandmother, I’m still sentimental for that stoney fruit. The conversation my mum and I had about jam-making was spurred on by Filler Zine arriving in the post. The eighth issue (the one I’m published in) focuses on the kitchen. A place I could go on about for hours. My piece wove in my emotional connections to Damsons, to a loss of place, to storing food for the long winter ahead. Titled ‘Preservation’ it aimed to capture pickling, when a moment becomes a memory, when food becomes stored energy. I would like to avoid turning this into one of those horrible recipes where you have to scroll through someone’s life story to get to a basic recipe. I won’t even promise you a recipe, this is all story. Story aside, Damsons are close to my heart, but they are no longer in season. So I settled for plums. To make the Jam I stewed diced plums with 10% of the weight of water (800g plums would need 80ml water). Once they began to soften (but not fall apart) I added an equal weight of preserving sugar (800g) and brought the heat down low. Honestly, I think it could have done with less sugar but have yet to really deviate from a recipe (jam is scary at first). At this point, I also added lemon juice, cinnamon and a hint of black pepper. As I stirred the mixture to dissolve the sugar it took on a glossy vibrant texture. I dreamt of painting my imaginary living room walls that colour, of offsetting it with creams and brusk oranges. Once the sugar dissolved I cranked the heat. Watched the rolling boil turn the liquid bubbly and viscous. I should have boiled it for longer, I am no longer listening to recipe times, I am becoming ungovernable. A little earlier than necessary I scooped it into oven-steralised jars and left them in the frigid kitchen to cool overnight. To me, and my mother apparently, jam-making always seemed like a complex and difficult art. Now I’ve made a ok-ish jam I would say it isn’t as mystical and daunting as I first thought. If anything I now want to experiment with more. I also want to take away the fear of the recipe. Though botulism is a real worry, there is enough sugar in jams that I don’t actually have as much to worry about. There is space to experiment. I’ll let you know how it goes. M Find me on Instagram, The Dots and my Website. To support my work, please consider buying me a Coffee. If you missed the last update, read it here: This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit xandua.substack.com

    9 min
See All (27)

About

We're starting a farm! Or at least we're trying to... After 4 years of learning and growing Magda and her partner are ready to farm for good. We're talking no-till, organic, soil-focused, community-building, back-to-the-earth goodness. Some real Solarpunk shit. If you're looking to learn more about farming or just want to see how this goes, join the journey. With in-depth updates as we try to secure land, crop plan and start a farm. xandua.substack.com

Information