The Good Farmer

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It's an interesting question, how to navigate this tangled path between money and morality: not a new question by any means, but one that has taken strange turns in modern times. In our nation's prevailing culture there exists right now a considerable confusion between prosperity and success -- so much so that avarice is frequently confused with a work ethic. One's patriotism and good sense may be called into doubt if one elects to earn less money or own fewer possessions than is humanly possible. The notable exception is that a person may do so for religious reasons: Christians are asked by conscience to tithe or assist the poor; Muslims do not collect interest; Catholics may respectably choose a monastic life of communal poverty; and any of us may opt out of a scheme that we feel to be discomforting to our faith. It is in this spirit that we, like you perhaps and so many others before us, have worked to rein in the free market's tyranny over our family's tiny portion of America and install values that override the profit motive. Upon doing so, we receive a greater confidence in our children's future safety and happiness. I believe we are also happier souls in the present, for what that is worth. In the darkest months I look for solace in seed catalogs and articles on pasture rotation. I sleep better at night, feeling safely connected to the things that help make a person whole. It is fair to say that this has been, in some sense, a spiritual conversion.

Modern American culture is fairly empty of any suggestion that one's relationship to the land, to consumption and food, is a religious matter. But it's true; the decision to attend to the health of one's habitat and food chain is a spiritual choice. It's also a political choice, a scientific one, a personal and a convivial one. It's not a choice between living in the country or the town; it is about understanding that every one of us, at the level of our cells and respiration, lives in the country and is thus obliged to be mindful of the distance between ourselves and our sustenance.

I have worlds to learn about being a good farmer. Last spring when a hard frost fell upon our orchards on May 21, I felt despair at ever getting there at all. But in any weather, I may hope to carry a good agrarian frame of mind into my orchards and fields, my kitchen, my children's schools, my writing life, my friendships, my grocery shopping, and the county landfill. That's the point: It goes everywhere. It may or may not be a movement -- I'll leave that to others to say. But it does move, and it works for us.

Barbara Kingsolver's books have been published worldwide. Her most recent is Small Wonder, a collection of essays (Perennial, 2003).

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