Farmers’

Fields

The car sped off in a cloud of dust and

exhaust, leaving the farmer coughing in the

driveway. The air f inally cleared but tears of

frustration kept spilling down her cheeks,

speckling the dry dirt.

The man in the car had come to explain what

subsidies would be available for the next

season’s crop. 

“Organic.” He had said, clipped and f inal.

“The customers are demanding it”.

Uncomfortably, he glanced at the wildf lowers

bordering the farmer’s f ields, avoiding her

eye.

“Will you still offer the Rewilding Top- Up

Scheme?” The farmer had asked, “It’s just

starting to f lourish; the f ields are alive with

pollinators and nesting birds

The man had sniffed

Well of course the amount we would pay

you for an organic harvest would be much

more than the state subsidy for your wild

crop I know the company used to fund a wild

crop topup but were stopping that We just

cant afford to fund wild crops and organic

crops Im sure youll understand

The farmer had swallowed hard Yes she

understood the challenges of competing

demands painfully well The requirements for

different subsidies were often contradictory,

and they were always changing. Trying to

remain prof itable was like running up a sand

dune (in snowshoes).

“But this wild f ield you have does look lovely,

maybe you could keep it and do organic too?”

The farmer had a bit of anger at the irony.

The company couldn’t afford to fund two

crop-types, but maybe she could.

The man had chewed his cheeks and handed

the farmer a wad of documents. “I’ll be off

then, all the information’s in there. If you

need anything, let me know,” his offer had

fallen limp and empty, like a dead bird hitting

the dirt.

Blood thundering in the farmer’s ears, she

wiped her eyes and strode to the shed She

climbed onto the mower turned the key It

spluttered in protest and didnt start She

tried again more gently insisting It choked

to life spitting petrol fumes into the shed

and out into the garden This morning it had

been a wondrous ecosystem teeming with

life The farmer had been proud of it Now it

looked like a sea of weeds a space of wasted

potential If they were paying for organic

crops this year so be it The farmer was

desperate for her son to have more choices

than she had To lift him above the pile of hay

inherited from her parents