Returning home to farm: Tilling the heart before the soil
Foodthink says
Unlike industrial farms or “elderly-led agriculture”, Liangliang Farm not only achieves sustainable management through a moderate scale and the full organisation of family labour, but also creatively links family with community, livelihood with life, and humanity with nature, constructing a way of living distinct from that of the city. As Jan Douwe van der Ploeg, an expert in peasant studies, points out in *The New Peasantries*, “the whole meaning of agriculture is the active creation of things, resources, relations and symbols.”
Has the per capita income of the farm continued to rise steadily in recent years? Why was it necessary to “cultivate emotions” before tilling the land? Facing extreme heat or the pandemic, what challenges does the production and lifestyle of a small-scale family farm encounter, and what resilience does it provide? In what ways can one engage with the community’s public sphere? What life values and existential meaning are “new farmers” pursuing?
Looking back five years later, during this Foodthink sharing session, Tang Liang attempts to respond to these questions from a perspective more attuned to the care of life: Amidst the wave of urbanisation, do rural areas and agriculture still possess the potential to integrate livelihoods, social bonds, and the meaning of life?
The full text is divided into four parts, starting from “Family” and the “Farm”, moving towards the “Community”, and reflecting on the “Value” of life. It will be presented in two parts.
I. Family
I. Upbringing: The Dream of Reunion for a First-Generation Left-Behind Child
During my own growth, my family gradually drifted apart and the village became increasingly dilapidated.
My grandfather passed away early, and my two uncles were unable to start families due to disabilities. To earn money for their children’s tuition, my parents both went to work in Guangdong, leaving my younger brother and me as “left-behind children”. Later, my mother returned home for surgery; it was then that I began to wonder: why must parents move to the city just to make a living? How can we live in the countryside?
In 2012, after my brother’s first child was born while he was working away, the child was sent back to the village to be cared for by my mother, who was then running a teahouse on the street; meanwhile, my younger uncle wandered away from home until 2013. At the lowest point, even during the Lunar New Year, only my eldest uncle remained at home. The old house built by my grandparents and parents had fallen into disrepair, and the cracks caused by the 2008 earthquake remained unpatched; the village lacked waste collection, and empty pesticide and herbicide bottles were scattered everywhere…
Because of these experiences as a left-behind child and witnessing the state of the village, my original intention for returning home can be summarised as: to reunite rural families, practise benevolent farming, build ecological communities, and explore a new way of rural life that stays true to the essence of living.
After graduation, I found a job related to my major. The income was good, but I felt little meaning on a deeper, existential level. After paying off my student loans, I had some savings, and the idea of returning home emerged. After resigning, I interned at a farm, during which I gained a deeper understanding of ecological agriculture, realised the difficulties of entrepreneurship, and tempered my expectations. Two years later, I returned to Niujiao Village.
II. Starting the Family Business: “Tilling the Heart” Before Building the Farm
In the first year, I worked with my two uncles to experiment with ecological planting on our contracted land; in the second year, I rented more land, expanding the area to over 20 mu, and my mother persuaded my father and brother’s family to stay in our hometown; by the third year, we had built a new house large enough for the whole extended family, and my mother closed her teahouse to come back and manage the household.
However, beyond planting and management, the greater difficulty in returning home to start a business is actually the internal emotional attrition within the family. Every family has its own struggles; upon returning, existing family conflicts can lead to various issues. In our case, the misunderstandings and contradictions between my parents and me, between my parents themselves, and between my father and my younger uncle all required effort to gradually resolve.
Firstly, from my parents’ perspective, they had hoped we would move to the city, yet we returned to the countryside to farm (without using pesticides or chemical fertilisers). In their eyes, I had “become a fool from too much schooling”. For their generation, they had initially gone to work in the city because they felt a good life was impossible in the village; for them, the countryside and agriculture were areas of sorrow. (My father, in particular, would blame me, asking “why on earth did you come back to the village?” whenever he was in a bad mood.) To resolve this emotional knot, whenever I went to the market to sell vegetables or hosted visitors at the farm, I would create opportunities for my parents to interact with others. Affirmation from outsiders was far more effective than my own explanations or persuasion. I also took them to participate in activities, attend training, and visit other farms. From initially being too afraid to speak in public, they slowly opened up and realised that agriculture could be done this way, eventually finding their confidence as farmers.
At first, I didn’t understand why my parents spent so much time playing mahjong. Reflecting on it later, I realised that at their stage of life, they don’t have many grand spiritual aspirations. Working in the morning and playing cards in the afternoon is, for them, a meaningful way to spend their time. Some things may seem simple to us, but from their perspective, they are not. In such moments, creating conflict solves nothing; preaching logic often only has the opposite effect.
Furthermore, although we lived under one roof, there was a profound lack of emotional connection. Domestic life and daily labour are indispensable elements of a family farm; therefore, the growth of the crops in the fields and the emotional well-being of the family members require equal attention.
Once, I tried to take my parents, whose relationship had grown strained, to a wellness retreat, but neither would agree to go with the other. I spoke to them separately, and after a great deal of heartfelt persuasion, they finally agreed. Although they still ignored each other upon arrival, within a few days, the two of them were chatting and laughing. My father and my youngest uncle used to argue the moment they met, sometimes slamming chopsticks and bowls over a single glance; after my uncle returned, these tensions flared up again. On one occasion, both felt deeply aggrieved and burst into tears; I held my uncle as he cried for a while, allowing him to gradually release his emotions. This kind of “emotional labour” acts as the lubricant that smooths the relationships within a family.
For a while, my partner, Lizi, and I were both consumed by our respective responsibilities with the farm and the community. Although we saw each other constantly, we barely communicated. Eventually, we made adjustments; we realised we couldn’t be constantly busy and needed to set aside time for ourselves and create space for communication. Once that connection is established, we both feel more grounded and present, which in turn positively influences our children and the rest of the household. The way a single issue is handled can shift the entire family atmosphere. A trivial matter, such as doing the washing up, could spark a conflict, but if handled correctly, it can become a catalyst for mutual support and growth.
When soil particles are compressed and packed together, the soil becomes compacted; only when it forms an aggregate structure, achieving a healthy state, can it produce better plants and food. Our families also require such an “aggregate structure”: if there is a lack of proper connection between people and they exist in an atomised state, the family atmosphere becomes rigid. Only with the right emotional connections can a family break free from this “compaction” and regain vitality and warmth.
Ultimately, the only way to change the mindsets and habits of others is to lead by example, allowing your actions to influence your family subtly over time. After all, a family is not a corporation; you cannot rely on mandates or fines.When we first began sorting our waste, there was widespread opposition in the house, especially from my father. I simply led the way, sometimes even bringing back food waste from outside to compost. Gradually, more people joined in. After about six months, I noticed my father had started sorting the rubbish too. Whenever my parents went out to play mahjong, they would bring back sugarcane bagasse and peels on their way home.
II. The Farm
I. Management and Production: People and Events in the Fields
Our choice of crops follows what could be called a ‘pyramid production structure’: at the peak are the primary cash crops sold for monetary income; the base consists of various produce for family consumption, enabling self-sufficiency and significantly reducing living costs. In the first year, I experimented with small-scale planting of various crops, selling them through online channels. In the second year, I chose yellow ginger and chillies—varieties that are easy to preserve and process—as my flagship products. I gradually expanded my market reach, establishing stable supply relationships with community shops and TCM clinics, and used ‘order-based production’ to plan the scale of planting.
The farm grows around 100 different varieties of crops, though the exact number hasn’t been precisely calculated. Roughly one-third of the total yield is ‘cycled locally’ by the family and visiting partners, another third is distributed through various platform partners, and the final third is sold through the farm’s online mini-shop.
Our income rose steadily during the first few years. Once the farm’s operations stabilised, the gross output value generally sat between 300,000 and 400,000 yuan, with a net income of nearly 200,000 yuan. 2023 was an exception; due to the impact of high temperatures and drought in 2022, crop yields decreased, leading to a significant drop in income from agricultural products. Furthermore, substantial infrastructure work was undertaken in the second half of 2022, resulting in higher fixed-asset depreciation in 2023 than in previous years, which further reduced that year’s income.
The farm’s labour force consists primarily of family members, with local villagers brought in for temporary help during busy periods. Currently, there are six full-time staff members (excluding my eldest and youngest uncles); this equates to approximately three people dedicated to field production and three to logistics and operations.
Based on the strengths and characteristics of each family member, we have gradually developed a stable division of labour. My father focuses on the hands-on field work, while my brother handles production management and operates the farm machinery. My sister-in-law primarily assists my brother, and my mother is my father’s partner in the fields; they both also handle some of the logistics. My partner designs the farm and is responsible for the children’s education, the farm’s beautification, and cultural studies. My eldest uncle helps with weeding, and my youngest uncle feeds the animals and sweeps; being older, they lend a hand while enjoying their lives, finding their own way to integrate into the family. I am responsible for all other aspects of the farm, including overall planning and operations, technical learning, production trials, and external sales.
The farm’s income is not high, and we have no intention of further expanding our scale or capturing more market share. From a market perspective, pursuing size and completeness would require significant capital, which could lead to obvious cash-flow problems during slow sales periods. By planning production according to demand, we can buffer against potential risks. In terms of labour, the workload remains within the capacity of our family members, allowing for more flexible arrangements. From the perspective of agriculture’s deeper meaning, I know that farming is not an industry for making a fortune; rather than simply growing bigger and stronger, I care more about how to make the farm and the family more beautiful and vibrant.
2. Touching the Earth: Dealing Directly with Nature
Our local soil is yellow clay, which is not particularly good and requires slow cultivation and improvement. Sometimes, we tend to think about how to produce more, reduce costs, and optimise management, considering things primarily from an economic angle; but when you settle your mind, you begin to feel your relationship with the land. The soil is a home for microorganisms—agriculture is a completely different story with them than without them; the soil is also a home for insects.
Agricultural production requires constant attention to climatic factors. The number of high-temperature days has increased in recent years. In 2022, a severe drought hit; in areas without shading nets, the ginger slowly died, and watering only made things worse. Many farmers suffered total crop failure; our small yellow ginger also saw a 50% reduction in yield, which heavily impacted our 2023 income. In 2023, the temperature rose by one degree on average compared to previous years, although there was no concentrated heatwave or drought. Consequently, we have spent the last few years discussing how to mitigate the effects of climate change and are incorporating more considerations into our production. Over the next year or two, we plan to gradually recover our financial strength and reduce external spending. As long as the foundation and internal cycle remain intact, we will have a larger buffer to withstand external fluctuations.
3. A Life of Farming and Study: Agriculture as a Way of Life
On one hand, we can vary our work settings. For instance, by planting flowers in the fields (which also serves ecological purposes or pest control), it feels like working in a garden—this subtly influences one’s psychological state. On the other hand, farming is not everything in our lives. We hold family and farm meetings—sometimes about management and technology, sometimes about life—and we read the classics together. During family meetings, everyone discusses recent difficulties, confusions, and their own mental state, deepening the understanding between family members. We also go out to learn and participate in activities. For example, my younger brother regretted dropping out of junior high school; during the process of running the farm, he had the opportunity to apply for a junior college to study agricultural machinery. Another time, all seven of us went to Shanxi to learn—the children joined a rural summer camp, and my parents joined a health and wellness camp. We create these opportunities so that everyone can experience a sense of personal growth.
Compiled by: Anael
Edited by: ZX