After My Humanities Master’s, I Became a Fruit Farmer at a Real Estate Company

Two summers ago, I graduated with a master’s in sociology and, equal parts eager and apprehensive, joined a top-tier real estate company to work in agriculture. Three seemingly unconnected paths had just converged. Choosing a career against the conventional grain initially left my family and friends utterly baffled. Yet, I can assure you, it was a decision I made after deep reflection.

Despite three years studying rural sociology, my understanding of the agricultural sector remained somewhat veiled. I wanted to experience firsthand why farming is such an arduous profession, and to pinpoint exactly where the hardships and challenges lie. At the same time, I realised that plunging straight into the fields would defy societal expectations for someone with a higher education. Taking the middle path, I opted to work as a fruit farmer for a real estate developer.

I. Growing Fruit Trees from Scratch: A Steep Challenge

●As well as the orchard, the company tends to around ten mu (roughly 1.5 acres) of farmland. The larger fields are used for rotating wheat and rice, while smaller plots grow vegetables. Last year, our two-mu (about 0.3 acres) patch of white radishes yielded a particularly bountiful harvest. This photo shows me harvesting radishes alongside one of the female farm workers.

The real estate development I work for is situated on the outskirts of City S, a tier-two city in Jiangsu Province. Extensive natural assets—including orchards, waterways, and farmland—form part of the estate’s amenities. This complements the project’s design ethos and supports property sales, meaning the agricultural land is far from mere window dressing; it is a core asset designed to generate real value. On my first day, I turned up at the office in full make-up and a professional suit. July in the fields is a sea of lush green. The fruit trees were steadily coming into harvest, and the seasonal vegetables were thriving—a sight that instantly lifted the spirits. But the moment I stepped onto the soil, I knew that a corporate wardrobe was entirely out of place here. Practical clothing and proper sun protection were the only sensible options.

My role involves planning outdoor educational workshops for the farm, as well as overseeing production management for both the farm and the orchard. Crucially, fruit yield and sales revenue are key performance indicators. Initially, I was rather reluctant: “Organising events is one thing, but I’ve no idea how to grow fruit. I lack both the knowledge and the experience—how could I possibly meet those targets?”

I voiced my concerns honestly, only for my manager to chuckle and reply, “Never mind, we’re all novices. Just dive in and get started!” And so, fairly bewildered, I began my two-year stint as a fruit farmer.

II. Trialling New Varieties

Following initial market research, the company positioned the orchard around sustainable, ecological farming. The goal was to grow healthy, flavourful pears through meticulous cultivation, thereby justifying a premium price. A crucial prerequisite for this was selecting the right varieties, so we began by evaluating local options.

City S sits on the sedimentary plains left by the historical floods of the Yellow River. Blessed with fertile soil and a favourable climate, the region is renowned for fruit cultivation. In the vicinity of our project alone, there are easily tens of thousands of mu of orchards. Local farmers have been tending fruit trees since the 1960s. Apart from a selection of peaches, grapes, and strawberries, pears are the staple crop.

The local pears have earned national geographical indication status, yet they have never reached the fame of the Korla fragrant pear or the Dangshan crisp pear. Part of the problem lies in the age of the local cultivars, which simply do not suit modern tastes. Every April, the pear blossom season transforms the orchards into a breathtaking spectacle. Alas, the fruit that eventually ripens lacks both sweetness and crispness, fails to capture the market, and inevitably sells for little.

With guidance from staff at the local agricultural extension station, the company opted for an early-ripening pear variety with strong market recognition. This cultivar was developed relatively recently through hybridisation by the Jiangsu Academy of Agricultural Sciences, and is particularly well-suited to local growing conditions.

● This early-ripening pear is characterised by a small core, a sweet flavour, fine and crisp flesh, and very few stone cells. The photo shows a corner of the pear orchard.

During the variety selection process, I realised that while the company’s agricultural division introduced new varieties anticipating future profits, switching to these new varieties is not necessarily a rational choice for local fruit growers. For one thing, purchasing saplings of new varieties from breeding companies comes at a considerable cost. For another, producing higher-quality pears requires intensive and meticulous management, which demands significantly more labour and capital. With S City home to factories of all sizes, abandoning the orchard to take up factory work actually proves the more rational choice when weighed against the hefty upfront investment and uncertain future returns.

III. Early-ripening pears are not so easy to grow

Local farmers, weighing various concerns, opted against this route. The company took a more cautious approach: half of the 300-mu orchard would retain the existing varieties, while the other half would be planted with a new early-ripening pear. To safeguard yield and quality, we reshaped the branches of the original trees, trained them, and installed bird nets. The new early-ripening variety demanded a shift in management techniques. Guided by seasoned local growers, I embarked on my first year, learning largely through trial and error.

During spring and summer, the focus was on pollinating the trees, thinning out flowers and fruit, and bagging the developing pears. Although the new variety is fairly self-fertile, we still needed to plant pollinator trees and use beehives or manual pollination to guarantee a solid fruit set.

● Last April, a senior female worker at the orchard performing manual pollination.

Heavy rain during the pollination window can disrupt both bee activity and manual efforts, potentially causing a significant yield drop. Even under ideal weather conditions, pollination is far from straightforward. Pear blossoms are only open for around 20 days, yet our 300-mu orchard houses tens of thousands of trees. Applying pollen to every single blossom is a task of staggering proportions.

Pollination is followed by roughly ten days of respite before the thinning of flowers and fruit commences. Deciding which fruit to leave on the tree is a delicate art, requiring careful maintenance of the leaf-to-fruit ratio. Regrettably, I have yet to master this technique.

● Applying base fertiliser early in the season; this organic fertiliser is typically well-rotted sheep manure purchased from neighbouring farms.

Between the intensive cycles of pollination, thinning, and bagging, the orchard demands routine fertilising, weeding, irrigation, and drainage. Early-ripening pears are exceptionally demanding when it comes to nutrition. Base fertiliser is applied the preceding winter, followed by monthly top-dressing throughout spring and summer, with rates increasing come autumn. Fertiliser cannot be applied all at once; it must be dispensed in light, frequent doses, making it highly labour-intensive.

Weeding is another major drain on manpower. To preserve soil fertility and water retention, we deliberately leave a layer of ground cover between the rows. However, if the weeds grow too vigorously and send down deep roots, they begin to compete with the trees for moisture and nutrients. As a result, weeding is required almost every month during the summer. With a limited crew, it is all too easy for the grass to outpace our efforts.

Every one of these tasks was a first for me as a beginner in horticulture. Yet beyond the work in the fields, other challenges lay in wait.

4. Managing the Workforce

The orchard workforce consists almost entirely of older individuals who, having reached the age limit for factory work, are staying at home and seeking part-time occupations. With little prior experience in orchard operations and accustomed to informal rural labour rather than corporate employment structures, managing them is far from straightforward. While they may technically work nine-to-five like office staff, agriculture does not follow a factory schedule; work must align with the weather and the seasons. In summer, shifts need adjusting to beat the heat, while peak periods demand longer daily hours with carefully planned meal and rest breaks. Financial incentives alone are insufficient; a degree of personal rapport and mutual understanding must serve as the grease in the machinery to ensure smooth operations.

I recall one instance when a particularly brisk older worker suddenly tendered her resignation, citing a clash with her schedule: she needed to collect her kindergarten-aged granddaughter at three or four in the afternoon. Yet we were in the thick of the bagging season, and losing one experienced pair of hands could mean hundreds of trees going unbagged and fruitless. What was I to do? After a moment’s deliberation, I suggested she bring her granddaughter into the orchard’s office area to play until the day’s work was done, at which point they could head home together.

Incidents like this crop up with striking regularity. When dealing with a workforce two generations my senior, maintaining a humble demeanour and communicating in plain, familiar terms is the most effective strategy. Above all, however, it boils down to genuine respect and empathy for the farmers.

Beyond overseeing the workforce, I was also responsible for sourcing agricultural machinery for the orchard, all while navigating corporate bureaucracy. Company policy dictated that I submit a budget proposal for the following month by the first of each month, awaiting a multi-tier approval process before any purchase could be made. Yet agricultural needs are often urgent and unpredictable. During my first year, desperate not to miss critical planting windows, I resorted to every conceivable workaround to navigate administrative delays. It was, I must admit, an incredibly draining ordeal.

5. Growing Pears is Hard, Selling Them is Harder

● By July 2022, our pears were finally ripe! Each weighed in at around 250g, sporting smooth, jade-green skin and a beautifully regular shape.

Despite navigating a host of firsts, the trial, error, and hard graft of our first year still saw the orchard successfully bear fruit. Hearing colleagues praise the flavour of the pears gave me a profound sense of professional fulfilment. Yet, another pressing matter was looming large.

Fresh fruit is notoriously perishable and difficult to store. While a 300-mu harvest (roughly 50 hectares) is modest, investing in cold storage—whether building it ourselves or renting space—was hardly economical. With performance targets hanging over us, our only option was to shift the entire stock as quickly as possible.

In hindsight, our initial optimism about the new variety had been somewhat misplaced. After canvassing numerous fruit markets, supermarkets, and independent grocers, we realised that the early-maturing pears were too novel for the current market, and consumer uptake remained sluggish.

The size of the orchard posed another rather awkward dilemma. It was too large to function like a community-supported agriculture (CSA) model, where a few dozen or hundred local customers could comfortably absorb the yield. Conversely, it lacked the scale of a major agribusiness, meaning we had no established buyers ready to purchase in bulk.

● At just three years old, the young trees had yet to reach full bearing capacity. The average yield was a mere 100 kg per mu (approximately 1.5 tonnes per hectare), bringing the 2022 total to just 15 tonnes (30,000 jin). Once the orchard enters its prime productive years, yields are projected to triple.

Breaking into offline markets is tough, and going online is no easier. To sell fruit on fresh-produce e-commerce platforms, growers must meet rigorous commercial and branding standards. This involves detailed labelling of uniform size, taste, origin, specific cultivar, harvest timing, qualification certificates, and pesticide-residue testing. That level of brand-building demands significant time and money. Under the pressure of corporate performance targets, none of us were confident we could turn our homegrown pears into the next Chu orange.

Some argue that the rise of e-commerce platforms represents a bottom-up transformation, originating at the consumer end of the supply chain. Yet, as I’ve observed, shoppers can only decide whether to shop online; they have little say in what actually reaches them. Meanwhile, small-scale growers are kept out by barriers to commercialisation and standardisation, left gazing at consumers from the other side of the door.

To bypass the supply chain’s layers of middlemen and reach buyers directly, we ultimately fell back on a traditional, community-focused approach: tasting before buying, word-of-mouth recommendations, and targeted sales. From monitoring orders and packing deliveries to handling after-sales support, we did it all in-house, truly embodying the sentiment that every step is hard-won.

Six: A Temporary Farewell to the Orchard

These past two years have been an invaluable experience. I was fortunate to work alongside a team that was professional, accountable, and genuinely kind. There was none of the hyper-competitive grind found in corporate giants, nor the guarded, tense office dynamics. Instead, we worked in comfortable, healthy conditions, intimately connected to the land and the seasons. It was deeply fulfilling. If I had to summarise the challenges of the role in one sentence, it would be this: farming is profoundly difficult, with or without capital backing. I once visited a local family-run orchard, and the owner remarked with a sigh that while both are forms of agriculture, fruit cultivation is far more demanding than growing staple crops. It demands year-round care and constant vigilance against sudden weather shifts or unforeseen disasters. Nobody is born a farmer; good harvests only come from bending your back, keeping your head down, and persevering through the grind.

All the same, agriculture is worth experiencing. It is only by understanding the relationship between people, food, and nature through the eyes of a producer that we can truly make our purchasing choices count.

Foodthink Author

Yvonne

Dedicated to understanding and explaining the resource-depleting “Anthropocene”. A sociology student in self-exile, with a focus on agriculture, the environment, and climate change.

All images in this article were taken by the author

Editor: Ze’en

I. Growing Fruit Trees from Scratch: A Steep Challenge

Published by Foodthink