This piece was written by Kate Doughty, junior, as a reflection on her involvement with the UW Farm.

Growing Food and Farmers

The UW Farm program grows many vegetables—over 6 tons were produced this season—but more importantly it grows farmers. Yes, I’ve learned a lot about plants and growing food—the difference between an allium and a brassica, hypogeal and epigeal germination, what the ratio of carbon to nitrogen should be in a functional compost heap. More importantly, I’ve learned a lot about myself. There’s no need to go into my whole life story; no need to bore you with thrilling tales of wild knitting needles gone rogue. I’ve gone off track. My point: working on the farm has given me an appreciation for being connected with the resources that give us life, and to actively think about how we as a society got to where we are in terms of how we practice growing and eating food.

When planting a seed, it never ceases to amaze me how quickly a plant matures—growing from embryo to toddler to teenager to proper-vegetable-bearing adult in the span of a few weeks or few months. Technically I’ve got twenty years under my belt but I’m nowhere near proper adult human. Plant life is astounding! We put these tiny little pods in the ground, water them, and then a whole mess of stuff happens underground and then BOOM! Kale. That was not a very academic way to describe the process of a seed, but that is how I see it when I’m dumbfounded that the bed of spinach I planted successfully germinated. I think about how strange it is to me that not everyone is as amazed as I am by growing vegetables. Being a part of the process of growing food is incredible. To cook a parsnip and think, “I planted this seed in the ground, and now it’s going to nourish my body and give me energy to continue life.” I slightly hate myself as I’m typing this, because I sound like some bad comedian’s impression of a hippy—but then again, it’s totally true. At the botany greenhouse there is this giant pumpkin. I couldn’t lift it without the help of four other people quite honestly, and yet it started from a seed smaller than your average stone—seed to seedling to normal looking pumpkin to GIANT BEAST OF THE CUCURBITACEAE. I’m telling you, plants are cool.

In conversations with other people on the farm, I’ve also started thinking about how lucky I am to be able to have this opportunity. Growing up, I admittedly was not that well versed in how privilege, poverty, and race come into play in everyday life. Obviously I was aware of it, but only in some ways. With food, the gap between quality of food available to the wealthy middle class and those who are in poverty is extreme and horrific. Throwing away food because it looks damaged or is a minute past it’s expiration is wasteful, obviously, but it is disrespectful. Good food does not need to be exclusively available to those who “deserve” it, or those who can pay a lot of money for it. I am no expert in these kinds of issues, but the connections I’ve made on the farm have influenced me in such a way that I want to learn more about it.

I really don’t think I can say anything else about what the farm has done for me. It has made me, in my own opinion, a better person—whatever other people think is up to them I suppose. I’m happier—thanks to the microbes in dirt that act as antidepressants—and healthier—thanks to the magical plants of destiny that are vegetables. If you have the slightest amount of interest in any of the things I mentioned, I would highly recommend dropping by the farm. It was a life-changing experience for me and I couldn’t imagine what my year might have been like without farming and all the wonderful people I’ve met through this incredible program in my life. One thing that I love about the farm that I’ll leave you with: every single person who wants to learn about food, discuss issues related to food, or just have a day of hard work is welcome, unconditionally.