Land

"Land" is a weighty word. In the western world it refers to a possession with boundaries defined by abstract lines and legal descriptions, an economic asset to be taxed under threat of forfeiture. We can't escape that reality, so we mark our boundaries and pay our taxes, but that is such a shallow and artificial concept of land. 

From an ecologist's perspective, land is an energized bio-geophysical system, so complex, layered, and interwoven that it makes even the wildest ideas of magic seem mundane. It functions whether we’re here or not, and it scoffs at the arrogance of survey lines and legal descriptions claiming to be boundaries on it. We can partner with this system, influence and manipulate it to produce things we value - that's really the point of farming. But we can also break that system if we are careless or abusive with it. If we go away it will eventually erase the evidence we were here. But while we are here, assuming we are respectful stewards, it allows us to participate in and benefit from its workings. And it eventually consents to being our place. 

Land as place is spaces, patterns, cycles that grow familiar ... views, landmarks, aromas, and acoustics that hold on to and replay memories and emotions. It is a sense of safety, a sense of belonging. It's a memory bank for our histories - successes and failures, fulfilled dreams and lost hopes, and it holds the bones of beloved pets so you'll always know where they are. Land as place is a receptacle for our humanity, a point of connection between spirit and planet for the brief time we are here. 

My Indigenous friends talk about land relationships instead of management plans and relatives instead of resources. That makes more than a little  sense to me. Knowing that the relationship with this land helped define the identity of at least 400 generations of Indigenous people, being the current steward of this land must be understood as a trust. I am not Indigenous, and it is not my place to attempt to explain what land means from an Indigenous perspective. However, I can only trace my own family lineage for about 40 generations and their connection to any given place rarely lasted long, so I think saying this land provided a sense of place for Indigenous people would be a profound understatement. I strive to engage the land with acknowledgement and respect for the land relationships of those 400 generations, and I strive to leave the land in a condition that won't hinder their descendants if society ever evolves in such a way that they have the opportunity to reestablish those relationships.

I’ve walked every inch of this land we call “ours” so many times, observing and analyzing its ecology, trying to gain a little understanding of its nature as place, trying to envision it through the eyes of past generations. There’s much more to learn, and it will take more than the time I have left here, but I think this is my place for as long as I’m here.

The substance of land as ecosystem, as place, as a trust, would take at least a book or two to discuss. However, geography, soils, flora and fauna, and climate are essential things for ecologists and farmers to understand if they are to be good stewards of land, and can help give others a sense of the potential and the experience of a parcel of land. With that in mind, here is a brief introduction to the land we are privileged to partner with.