A Visit to Howell History Farm

My expectations were pretty low when I tagged along on my 4th grade daughter's class trip to Mercer County's Howell History Farm. How interesting could it be to harvest corn? It turned out, however, to be a profoundly affecting experience.

Consider some of the anxieties we accumulate over time while living in town: the constant consumption of fossil fuels harmful to the planet's future, kids who stay indoors in front of computer screens and have little chance to interact with animals or witness the miracle of their birth and growth.

All of that quickly changed on the farm. After eating popcorn and delicious cornbread cooked with a wood stove, the kids soon found themselves being put to work. To my surprise, they jumped at the chance to do work with their hands.

The kids started by stripping corn kernels off the cobs.

Then it was time to grind the corn into meal with an elegant iron contraption.

Then they walked to a cornfield across the valley, to gather corn stalks into a shock so the corn could cure and dry.

On a crisp, clear day, a cornfield is a magical place of rustling leaves, promise and mystery.

As the kids twisted the ripe, dry ears of corn off the stalks and tossed them into bushel baskets, I became fascinated by the flying buttresses of roots that help hold the 12 foot stalks upright.

Some of the ears were a radiant shade of red. We were told this is dent corn, because of the dents in the kernels.

As we waited for the bus, having experienced corn harvest from field to kitchen, the kids discovered how fun it could be to drink water from a do-it-yourself drinking fountain. On a 1900 farm, the connections and feedback loops are simple and direct. Start pumping and water will start to flow. In town, water emerges from the faucet after a long and complicated journey from a place none of us have ever seen. On the farm, the water rises up from the ground beneath our feet.

Another opportunity a farm provides is the chance to focus our eyes on distant hills. Trees are lovely things, but I'd gladly trade some of the shade for a vista or two.

Most every goal of sustainability, every change of behavior being encouraged in town--in order to prevent our life on earth from being a flash in the pan--was a normal part of life on a 1900 farm. Living in town all this time, I had forgotten how much the country has to teach, and how much of a more satisfying future can be found in the past.