On Eco-Farms, People Are Like Weeds: The More, the Better

Every garden has a theory of beauty

and a morality of happiness.

— Santiago Belloc, Philosophy in the Garden

● At Beijing’s Tianfuyuan Biodiversity Farm, weeds and vegetables coexist and grow side by side. The farm is home to over a hundred species of weeds. Photo: Foodthink

It is somewhat serendipitous that my path to ecological farming began with “weeds”.First, weeds as a problem. As a sociology and anthropology student, I spent nearly a year conducting field research in rural communities. I observed that while synthetic fertilisers and pesticides delivered impressive yields, the constant battle against weeds and pests left farmers deeply troubled. Moreover, heavy reliance on herbicides often seemed to make certain weeds grow back with greater tenacity.

Second, weeds as a method. I have been an environmentalist since childhood, holding to the conviction that “nature dislikes bare ground”, and would rather see those hardened, barren patches reclaimed by wild plants.

Finally, weeds as a reflection of the self. I have always been drawn to the inclusive ideal of harmony in diversity. Viewed from another perspective, ecological farming, much like a weed, pushes against established boundaries of thought. And I, in turn, am rather like one of those weeds.

By chance, during my internship at Foodthink, I visited over a dozen ecological farms. Old confusions gradually fell away, and my mind and spirit grew rich with new experiences and pressing questions.

I. The Diverse “Ecological Community”

The remarkable diversity of backgrounds and experiences among ecological farmers was my first impression of this community. Most are new growers who have returned to their rural roots to start businesses, ranging from city professionals with years of corporate experience to young graduates just setting out in life. Their academic and professional training is equally varied. While some come from agriculture-related disciplines such as agronomy, biology, or mechanical engineering, the majority hail from fields entirely unrelated to farming.

Each person practises ecological farming through their own unique lens, driven by a wide array of motivations: a desire for the traditional agrarian life of cultivation and study, food security, environmental conservation, family well-being, or even community building. This shared vision draws people from far and wide, transcending the geographical boundaries of agriculture to forge a collective “ecological community”—a garden thriving with weeds.

● In 2019, dozens of ecological farmers from across the country attended a growers’ conference co-organised by Foodthink, the Beijing Organic Farmers’ Market, and the College of Development Studies at China Agricultural University. Image credit: Foodthink.

Compared with conventional agriculture, managing an ecological farm affords a considerably greater degree of freedom.

Conventional farming may appear to offer plenty of choices, yet it ultimately leaves producers increasingly dependent on pesticides and synthetic fertilisers, while the inputs and techniques they can truly master steadily dwindle.

Ecological agriculture sets a firm baseline: chemical inputs and genetically modified seeds are prohibited. Instead, farmers rely on biological and physical methods to nurture healthy soil and field ecosystems, thereby enhancing crop yields and resilience. How one harmonises with nature, however, follows no single prescribed path. This freedom brings challenges, risks and responsibilities, but it also fosters creativity.

● Aerial view of Zhiliangtian Ecological Farm, located on the edge of the Tengger Desert.

One fellow farmer remarked, “Every farm is a tangible realisation of its owner’s ideals.” I wholeheartedly agree. It goes beyond farming methods alone; site selection, land planning, the scale of cultivation and livestock, crop choices, infrastructure and labour investment all require careful deliberation. After all, alongside economic viability, an ecological farm embodies a deeper pursuit of meaning.

Beginning with land you already own brings a sense of security to both production and daily life, assuming you have your family’s understanding and support. Opting to settle elsewhere, meanwhile, offers wider horizons, giving you the freedom to draw a blueprint on a blank canvas.

II. Mechanisation or Manual Labour?

At the Foodthink offices, I have frequently heard colleagues remark that Beijing’s organic farming sector is intensely competitive. In this respect, Xiqing Farm and Little Willow Farm serve as prime examples, while also presenting a fascinating contrast. Xiqing Farm comprises just two polytunnels and a modest five mu of land. Apart from hiring temporary labourers and interns during peak seasons, the operation relies almost entirely on the hands-on efforts of its owner, Wang Xin. Dozens of crops are cultivated both inside and out, each taking up only a small plot, with not a single inch of ground left idle. Clearly, in such confined quarters, there is little scope for machinery.

● Meticulous cultivation across the five-mu plot at Xiqing Farm. The image below shows Lü Lu, an intern at Xiqing Farm.

What left the strongest impression on me was that Brother Xin had to climb onto the greenhouse roof every day to make adjustments. In summer, he adjusts the plastic sheeting; in winter, he rolls out and stows the thermal quilts. When severe winds, rain, or snow strike, even robust Brother Xin ends up completely drained.

I found myself puzzled: why can’t the greenhouse film be controlled entirely by machinery?

Lü Lu, the farm intern, explained that Brother Xin insists on precise regulation of the microclimate’s temperature and humidity, which is crucial for preventing pests and diseases. A farmer must rely on keen perception and real-time judgement to operate the equipment, ensuring each crop receives exactly the right balance of light and moisture.

● Climbing onto the greenhouse roof to make adjustments marks the end of the day’s labour. Image source: Beijing Organic Farmers’ Market

Xiaoliushu Farm, which similarly focuses on vegetable cultivation, operates very differently.

Across Xiaoliushu’s 80 mu, with only a small portion under greenhouse cover, almost everything is grown in open fields. With a workforce limited to Brother Liu and four farmhands, the reliance on machinery is naturally much greater.

The plots are neatly divided into beds alongside the field paths, each sown with different seasonal vegetables, while some lie fallow after the previous harvest. In the height of summer, weeds are quick to take hold. However, Brother Liu has his own labour-saving approach: he spaces his rows wider than is typical, allowing a small rotary tiller to pass through easily, shredding the weeds for use as compost.

● Brother Liu guiding the farmhands in stringing out rows for the new seedlings.

Last June, when we arrived at Xiaoliushu Farm, Liu was supervising a few workers as they strung support lines for the newly planted saplings, to be tightened later. It took several explanations before the workers finally understood his instructions. Afterwards, Liu was blunt: modern farmers are increasingly losing the knack of farming. The divergence in production methods between the two farms stems from how their owners view human labour compared to automation.

Xin envisions a world of meticulous, smallholder farming, where human work brings a sensitivity and adaptability that machinery simply cannot match. Liu, on the other hand, considers people the least reliable element and spares no effort in putting “replacing human labour with machines” into practice.

3. Production and Daily Life

On strictly production-focused farms like Xiqing and Xiaoliushu, there are no facilities for accommodation or cooking; turning up to work feels just like clocking into a regular job. Such places are decidedly utilitarian, featuring nothing but crop plots, greenhouses, and storage sheds. Yet to other farming peers, a farm is as much a home as a workspace, making a pleasant and inviting environment absolutely essential.

● Tang Liang’s family working amongst the flowers. Image source: Foodthink

In March 2024, I attended my first in-person Foodthink sharing session. A photograph shared by Tang Liang, a farmer from Sichuan, depicting his family working amidst flowers, remains vividly in my memory. The “garden-style farm” model is driven not only by ecological enhancement and pest management, but also by a philosophy of living aesthetics. It subtly sustains a sense of joy and well-being during daily labour.

Fellow farmer Yan Ping’s Xingfu Guo Hundred-Herb Garden in Guangxi and Yuhu’s Return to Zero Farm in Yunnan have already taken on the character of a food forest.

Although the initial design and establishment phases demanded considerable effort, as the farm’s ecology matures, the need for human intervention steadily diminishes. Food forests prioritise diversity over scalability. Confronted with a staggered vertical structure of canopy, shrub, herbaceous, and ground-cover layers, machinery has very little room to operate.

At Return to Zero Farm, only a lawnmower proves useful. At the Hundred-Herb Garden, the closest thing to machinery is an electric farm cart. Aside from peak harvest periods, day-to-day work simply involves walking through the fields, attending to necessary tasks, and gathering crops or wild edibles for meals. It also serves to maintain a gentle human presence within the landscape. Labour and living become almost indistinguishable, functioning as both recuperation and a form of personal cultivation.

● Sister Yan Ping and Wang Pengcheng, an ecological farming colleague from Guangzhou, at the Hundred Herbs Garden.

● Sister Yuhu guiding us through Guiling Farm.

The ecological farms discussed above are predominantly operated as sole proprietorships or family-run ventures. Others, by contrast, boast more complex functional layouts, staff structures, and geographic reach, such as the Little Donkey Urban Farm, Phoenix Commune, Yuefeng Island, and Lexiangu Community Farm.

Beyond their cultivation areas, these farms provide facilities for accommodation, indoor and outdoor recreation, and rented plots for members, all set against a wider variety of ecological landscapes. Such expansion also puts their operational philosophies to the test.

As farms grow larger and more complex, maintaining the intimate feel of a family-run operation becomes increasingly difficult. They must redefine their relationship with both society and the market. Whether to move towards corporatisation, commercialisation and large-scale operations, or to preserve cooperative economics and social participation as far as possible, is a decisive crossroads that every farm must navigate.

As one of China’s pioneers in ecological agriculture, the Little Donkey Urban Farm carries the deepest historical roots. Upon entering, what first draws me in is its integrated ecosystem: the seamless blending of arable land, woodland, wetlands, and sustainable living, which feels like a microcosm of pastoral ideals brought to life.

● The small garden at the Little Donkey Urban Farm.

The garden-style landscape provides rich ecological niches for both natural creatures and members of society. The collaborative involvement of diverse groups—local farmers, consumers, volunteers, and entrepreneurs—acts as a kind of weed-like force, allowing Little Donkey to evolve into a richly layered “patchwork of gardens”.

Members’ small vegetable plots are interspersed throughout, while the farm rents larger tracts of land to certain clients, giving rise to a variety of creative spaces—edible gardens, craft workshops, and nature education areas—each with its own distinct merits.

It is hard to imagine that when Little Donkey Farm was founded, it relied on a dual approach of delivery shares and labour shares, with most plots still undeveloped. After two arduous transitions, it abandoned the home-delivery model to focus on building a community farm centred on agricultural experiences and educational demonstrations.

● Little Donkey’s community vegetable plots.

The other path it once attempted to tread—commercialisation—temporarily shook the philosophical foundations of Community Supported Agriculture (CSA).

If the focus is merely on providing standardised products and services to cater to increasingly discerning consumers, it will inevitably pale in comparison to large fresh-produce suppliers. More importantly, such an approach sacrifices the deep engagement, communication, trust, emotional bonds, and values education that exist between producers and consumers, and between people and the land.

Perhaps ecological agriculture can never, and ought never, to become a plantation; it must remain a garden full of weeds.

●The Beijing Organic Farmers’ Market, held every Saturday at the Shangri-La Hotel, is also a network of cooperation and mutual support for ecological farmers and consumers around Beijing. Image source: Beijing Organic Farmers’ Market

Real-world ecological farms fall short of perfection. Under market pressures, ecological principles, community welfare, and interpersonal relationships prove remarkably fragile when weighed against profit. Yet, conversely, it is precisely this fragility that ignites the vision of building a haven. Through collaboration and mutual aid, like-minded individuals forge a more resilient socio-ecological system, embracing their differences whilst seeking common ground.

四

After visiting a dozen or so ecological farms, I’ve come to feel that they possess a life of their own. Initially, it begins as a seed, carrying the ideal of a well-lived life. Then, it grows haltingly, feeling its way through the surrounding landscape. Adjustments to crop and livestock planning, the slow cultivation of soil and ecology, adapting to climate shifts, and pivoting business models—all leave their indelible mark upon it.

Such trials may steer the farm’s development down uneven paths, yet they weave together a richer tapestry of life trajectories, fostering a mindset characterised by an openness to all things and the patience to cultivate deeply. Through trial, error, and gradual adaptation, farmers help more suitable species take root in the soil. Through what the land yields, producers build trust and connection with a wider circle of consumers, drawing them from their dining tables and local markets back to the very source that nourishes their lives.

Just like weeds and trees, people grow alongside the garden.

Foodthink author

Anael

A master’s student in anthropology focusing on rural communities and agriculture. Interests drift between political economy, multi-species relations, and the interplay of emotion and ethics. Aspiring to become a practitioner of rural community development and ecological construction, seeking out new possibilities for connection within the weed-choked Anthropocene.

All images are credited to the author unless otherwise stated.

Editor: Zain

I. The Diverse “Ecological Community”

II. Mechanisation or Manual Labour?

Published by Foodthink