We couldn’t see a way forward to keep the family farm profitable, afford the labor, and work through our transition. We found the answer in the mail.
When’s somebody ever gonna buy that place? I shake my head as we head home past the post office building that sits in the center of our little hamlet of West Fulton. Outside of a tiny park two houses down, it is our last public gathering space. One side of the building was our former firehouse, now turned into a heated garage space. Above and behind the post office are the only rental apartments in town.
The citizens of West Fulton fought tooth and nail to keep our post office open when it was slated for closure a few years back. It was a losing proposition for the government, but it was our only place to meet neighbors and talk about what was happening locally, The outcome wasn’t quite a Pyrrhic victory, but it wasn’t far off. They shut the PO for all but two hours every day. That’s better than nothing, I guess. But when all postal business in a town must be transacted in a two hour period in a tiny little space, there’s not much room or time for casual talk.
This is the second time the building has been on the market. Don and Trish, the owners who live upstairs, want to retire and move closer to family in South Carolina. Century 21 signs line the road along the building lot. A giant Century 21 banner glares at me from the side of the old firehouse.
I shake my head as the girls and I drive by. This whole county is for sale, I think. It seems I can’t go two miles on any of my driving routes without seeing a for sale sign. It’s no secret that Upstate New York is losing population. But where most counties have only lost about 1 percent in recent years, Schoharie County tops the list with a 3.5 percent loss in the last four years. We never recovered from the hurricanes. There are very few jobs. Young people can’t make a go of it. The irony is that, with all that is for sale, as farmers in our town, we can’t get land.
It’s just a simple math problem, I tell myself as I wind along the road, headed for home and a pile of firewood to stack. I repeat this sentence a lot lately. Mom and Dad want to step back from Sap Bush Hollow Farm. They want Bob and me to take it over. The math problem I’m thinking about is a conundrum of time and money. For nearly 20 years, we’ve worked the business together, with no outside assistance other than an occasional summer intern or sporadic chore help. To make a go of it, Bob and I developed certain enterprises that ensured our livelihood, and Mom and Dad held on to certain enterprises. It worked great. But now, with Mom and Dad wanting to step back, Bob and I are faced with a serious labor shortage. We are realizing that we cannot fill in for my parents and maintain our own part of the business. Thus, we’ve decided that we need to bring Kate, our dynamo summer intern, into a permanent position. That simple step will allow us one day off during the growing season, and the chance to take vacations now and then. Kate wants to stay. Her partner Joe has a job locally. They want to move here. That’s the time portion of the math problem. The money portion is not so easy to solve. Sap Bush Hollow has always offered us just enough. It has never offered a surplus that could support a full-time employee.
So we’ve been trying to figure out how to expand. We need more land so we can graze more animals. We need a place that has housing that we can offer Kate and Joe. Whereas the post office is sitting in the heart of West Fulton with an asking price of less than $140,000, the land parcels are a different story. The cheap ones start at around $300,000. Mom, Dad, Bob and I pool our resources. We’ve tried several times now to buy. But no sooner do we find a place close enough to purchase, than the property is scooped up by someone from downstate, or from some other part of the country. The common theme is that whoever scoops it has more money. Or the price is so far beyond our reach at the outset, we can’t even fathom finding the cash or generating enough cash flow to cover a monthly payment.
I am trying not to be bitter about this. I don’t want to make this a class war. Those people who are able to buy the land we cannot afford are about to become my neighbors. So I am trying to keep my heart open. For most of my adult life I’ve been a big believer in abundance; that the world has what we need. The key to happiness, and a major component for sustainability, is to recognize abundance when it presents itself, rather than fixating on scarcity. A scarcity mentality makes people greedy. It makes them frightened. It causes pain and suffering. An abundance mentality makes people feel secure, and that leads to generosity. We need more of that.
In my daily meditations and prayers, I repeat these ideas about abundance to myself. But as soon as I open my eyes and confront the giant math problem of finding a way to carry my family’s business forward in the face of soaring prices for farmland-turned-vacation land, I feel pressure build up in my head. My vision becomes blurry. My breathing grows shallow. I am angry. Yes, there is abundance here. I can see it all around me in the open fields that could be growing food to feed our region. But it feels like it is no longer for the community. It is for wealthy folks from other places. There I go again….falling back into the class war.
I pull into the driveway and the girls and I go inside to change our clothes so we can stack the firewood. The phone rings. It’s Dad. We’ve just lost out on yet another real estate deal. He wants to commiserate. I sit down and cradle the phone against my ear. “It’s just a math problem,” I repeat my mantra aloud to him, trying to stay positive through my bitterness.
“Well, the Post Office is still for sale,” he quips. It has become something of a sad joke for us. Nobody wants our post office. The neighbors all talk about it. Somebody should put a store in the old firehouse. Somebody should sell ice cream. Somebody should open a coffee shop, so we have some place to go and sit.
I give a snort. “Yeah, right.” We both pause in our conversation. Was he joking? Or was he serious? There’s a voice in my head: Community can’t be saved by buying up the land. It has to be saved by nurturing the spirit of the place. “Hey Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Wait a minute here.” I go online and begin scrolling down through the local real estate listings until I find it. One three bedroom apartment, soon to be vacated by the owners. Another one bedroom apartment, already rented. One government contract for the Post Office. One vacant former firehouse. Only two miles down the road from the farm. I take out my calculator and starting running numbers. I pull up the projected income and expense statements I’ve been working on in anticipation of hiring Kate.
And as I work on the math problem, I remember suddenly that small farms these days don’t just grow food. They build community. They’ve become places where neighbors can gather and talk. I estimate taxes and expenses on the building, then estimate projected expenses for upkeep. I take the net income and plug it into the farm statement that contains the salaries on the expense side. And for the first time, it balances out. “Dad!”
“What?”
“We need to buy that post office! It solves the math problem!”
Bob comes home and we review the numbers. I call Don and Trish. “Nobody’s been to see it,” Don tells me. “C’mon down.” The entire Sap Bush Hollow crew takes a walk through the building. It’s built like a brick shit house. Panther creek winds in the back behind it. Kate and Joe fall in love with the upstairs apartment. And then there’s the old firehouse. Somebody should put a store in there, I hear the whispers in my head from my neighbors. Indeed, back in the 1950s, part of the building was a store. I’ve heard stories of people going in to drink sodas or buy supplies. Somebody should sell ice cream. Somebody should open a coffee shop, so we have some place to go and sit.
Bob and I go home and crunch the numbers further. If we bought the post office, we could get Kate and Joe affordable housing. We could pay a salary for a great employee who will help us keep the farm running. And in a year or two, with a little elbow grease and some good planning, we might even be able to open a farm store.With coffee. And maybe a little ice cream. But definitely, most importantly, there will be a place to go and sit. And in the process, we might be able to build the cash flow to support the rest of the people we want to support.
I am reminded this week that this is how abundance works.. What we need is here. But we have to be open to discovering it. And sometimes it comes in an unlikely form. I never thought farming would mean owning the post office. But now, looking at my community, at our need to define ourselves as a place, to connect with each other, to be more than a statistic for dwindling population, this is Sap Bush Hollow Farm’s next job. We can grow the food. Now we need to help grow the community.
Post office on left, future farm store and cafe in the garage on the right.
You lovelies are REALLY good at figuring things out…especially the math…YAY!
You lovelies are REALLY good at figuring things out…especially the math…YAY! Shout out to you all!
Hi Shannon,
I felt compelled to reach out to you this morning to say thanks! My dearest friend is Kate and Joe. They are such amazing people and are EXTREMELY excited about this next venture with you. Kate is thriving in Sap Hollows world and I can’t be more excited for you all moving forward. Keep doing what you’re doing. You will thrive and build the community, we all so desperately need.
All my best
Amanda Masterjohn
Shannon,
So glad to read this post! My heart cried over the duct tape post. I am so grateful you write and so desparately hopeful that someone in a position to do more than just care reads it. I mean really reads it.
We have friends who bought one of those acre-and-a-half handyman specials and have been up to their necks in struggle ever since. Lost their chickens when the barn roof collapsed as they prioitized repairs to the kitchen floor. Never have gotten much use out of the garage as it may come down as well. Thank goodness for home energy assistance to get though winters.
Have other friends who “stretched” to buy a beautiful 14-acre place with an 1855 farm house, several outbuildings, no septic at the time of purchase, etc. One year later it’s on the market & they are divorcing.
Have my own dreams with a time/money equation that always needs the money first and moves rapidly to fear.
We need to find ways for folks like these, folks like you, and folks like me.
Your report on a hopeful turn of events brings sunshine. What a great vision for your community.
Thank you.
Congratulations. It sounds like an exciting endeavor. Community is so lacking in our modern day world. I think it’s just wonderful you found a way to bolster it and keep your farm running.
Awesome post & my 1st read of the morning. . . . I am constantly “crunching numbers” not knowing if I can or want to stay in the town in which I grew up. Your sharing “I try not to be bitter about this” is VERY helpful to me as I haven’t known how to handle my resentments when they occur re: all the big money moving in . Your post helped me to remember that resentment is ‘human’ – not an indication that I have become a horrible person. Your sharing reminds me that “I can work with this unwelcomed emotion!!!”
I plan to incorporate ‘It’s just a math problem” into my thinking. . .that’s a good one!!!! It returns me to a state of neutrality. So important for me to be in that state to think clearly!
And thank you for the reminder that a key to happiness is recognizing abundance when it presents itself. This morning abundance has presented itself to me as words of support, encouragement & advice just when I needed them.
THANK YOU!!! I wish you all the best & look forward to future posts to hear how it is all going.
Your post is my 1st read of the morning & I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot! (yeah – I recognized today’s post as the abundance of encouragement & good advice when I needed it) Thank you for reminding me that resentment is “human” – I experience it when I crunch my own numbers as I see big money moving in around me. I am now reminded that maybe I’m not such a horrible person for feeling it & that “I can work with that emotion” yay!
“It’s only a math problem” is a good one!!! It returns me to a state of neutrality, which I need to think clearly.
Wishing you all the best. . .I look forward to future posts.
I was getting so worried while reading the early part of this post, and then it was like an explosion of joy! Of possibility! Of a GREAT idea! Hurray! Thank you – I’m excited for you!!
Since I’m old enough, hee, hee, to know really old songs, here’s part of the one that comes to mind:
You can look to the east, look to the west,
But someday you’ll come, weary at heart, back where you started from.
You’ll find your happiness lies
right under your eyes
back in your own back yard!
Kate and Joe are fortunate indeed to have found a source of happiness, through their friends!
Brilliant answer….best of luck on this endeavor!
My friend Dawn, owner of a local rural farm with pottery business did much the same. She bought a building in downtown Fennville, MI to save it and put an art gallery on one side and a coffee shop on the other side. The apartment above them both pay the mortgage. Not only is she offering coffee…she is offering community!
Do be sure to check with you states/counties laws on serving food…in some areas the business has to meet requirements that include a special commercial kitchen, public/barrier free bathrooms, commercial septic system etc. I recommend that before you go too much farther…you might want to check out those rules and requirements regarding food. My fruit farmer friend who has a pole barn fruit stand in season wanted to also sell cider and donuts during the fall apple season but has to have a special kitchen, public bathrooms and commercial septic system. This ( and money) became the roadblock to her plan. So for now her plan is on hold…
YAY!! I’m so happy for you! Sending prayers for prosperity and community!!
I LOVED reading your blog about buying the post office! My parents bought the red house next to the post office in 1971 and moved our family up from Long Island. We absolutely LOVED growing up next to the post office, where Mrs. Mohkel (spelling?) dispensed the mail in between chatting with neighbors who popped in to chat and catch up on the local news. It was the hub of the village and I loved the sense of tight community that thrived there. In the afternoons, the school bus stopped at the post office and almost all the kids got off, picking up the mail before walking home. I am so saddened to see that the folks we sold our parents home to in 2008 completely trashed the place before foreclosing on it. It’s hard to see it empty now. Mom and Dad worked so hard for so many years to have a beautiful home and I hope that some day, some one will buy it and restore it to the wonderful home it was for us for many decades. I still own the field between the red house and the blue house (Britons) and won’t even be able to get up there this summer to mow the grass like I have for the past 7 years. I don’t want to sell it, but if you can use it (it’s only an acre, but so close to you), I’d be happy to work something out! My email is higginsfoster@aol.com. Let me know! Good luck and best wishes with the post office building! It’s a wonderful idea!
Oh Shannon! That’s the most marvellous post, I’ve got goosebumps. Hold on, sister! Clever brains at work. Hooray.
I just admire the shit out of your prose and how your decision making effects so many levels. Still got a lump in my throat. Another winner of an essay. You’ll achieve your goals, I have no doubt. Thank you GW
We graze sheep in KS now, where modest farmers have the same issues with land-price pressure from those much wealthier who need places to spend their money. But I grew up in Vermont with a similar dynamic to what you describe in the blog. My impression there is the folks that buy larger acreages usually would benefit from someone else managing the pasture and timber as they just want privacy, pastoral-looking “open spaces” and a view. So is there an opportunity to barter/rent grazing spaces from your non-farming, land-owning neighbors? You don’t have as much security, control, or permanent fencing in these arrangements, but they can offer flexibility and no debt. You’d be doing them a service by keeping the open spaces open with grazing pressure.
Yes, Laura. That is all true. As it happens, we’ve done that for 25 plus years. But what has happened is that we’ve found we have a habit of improving land until it is sold out from under us, and now we are starting to see leases that carry so many suburban/urban expectations with no understanding of farming that they are simply too repressive to work with. Maybe someday those leases will again be an option as folks come to understand what sustainable farming practices should look like. We still have one with a resident land owner that works well. In the meantime, the good news is that we think we’ve found a way to better maximize our own farm production while enabling our business to grow to accommodate our family’s needs.