After a Master’s in the Humanities, I Became a Fruit Grower at a Property Company

Two summers ago, I graduated with a postgraduate degree in sociology and joined one of the country’s leading property companies to work in agriculture – full of anticipation, yet full of trepidation. Three paths that seemed entirely unrelated intersected at that moment, and the choice to go against the mainstream career track left my family and friends utterly perplexed for a while. But make no mistake: this was a thoroughly considered decision.

After three years of studying rural sociology, my relationship with the industry still felt as though a thin veil separated us. I wanted to understand through practice why it is so hard to be a farmer – where, exactly, the hardship lies and where the difficulty lies. At the same time, I knew that diving headfirst into fieldwork did not sit well with society’s expectations for someone with a higher education. The compromise I settled on was becoming a fruit grower at a property company.

I. Growing Fruit Trees from Scratch – Quite the Challenge

● Besides the orchard, the company also manages a dozen or so mu of farmland: larger plots are given over to crop rotation between wheat and rice, while smaller plots are used for vegetables. Last year our two mu of white radish produced a bountiful harvest; the photo shows me pulling radishes alongside one of the farm women.
The property project I worked on was on the outskirts of S, a second-tier city in Jiangsu Province. The site boasted extensive orchards, waterways and farmland as part of its natural amenities – features that served both the project’s design philosophy and its commercial appeal. The orchards and farmland were therefore no token gesture; they had to become genuine centres of value creation. On my first day, I turned up at the office in full make-up and business attire. It was July, and the fields were carpeted in lush green: fruit trees were beginning to bear fruit, and the vegetable garden teemed with seasonal crops – a sight that lifted the spirits. Yet the moment I stepped into the fields, I realised that an office lady’s everyday wardrobe was simply unnecessary out here. Sun protection was the far more practical choice.

My responsibilities included planning outdoor educational excursions at the farm and managing production across both the farm and the orchard. Fruit yield and sales revenue were key KPIs. I refused point-blank at first: “Organising events is one thing, but I genuinely don’t know a thing about growing fruit. I’ve got neither the knowledge nor the experience – how on earth is that supposed to work?”

I voiced my concerns honestly, and to my surprise the boss laughed warmly and said, “Don’t worry, we’re all beginners here. Let’s just get on with it!” And so it was that, half in a daze, I embarked on two years as a fruit grower.

II. Trying New Varieties

Based on preliminary research, the company positioned the orchard for ecological cultivation: the aim was to grow healthy, delicious pears through meticulous management, thereby achieving premium pricing and turning a profit. One essential prerequisite was selecting the right varieties, and we looked first at local ones.

City S sits on an alluvial plain formed by Yellow River floods, with fertile soil and a favourable climate. As a result, fruit growing is particularly common here – the area around our project alone is surrounded by no fewer than ten thousand mu of orchards. Local farmers have been growing fruit trees since the 1960s, and apart from a few peaches, grapes and strawberries, the mainstay crop is the pear.

The region’s pear products have earned National Geographical Indication Protection, yet they have never achieved the renown of the Korla Fragrant Pear or the Dangshan Crisp Pear. One reason is that the local pear varieties are simply too old-fashioned to match today’s consumer preferences. Each April, the pear blossom season makes for a spectacular view across the orchard, but the fruit that follows is neither sweet enough nor crisp enough to find a market, and the price naturally never rises.

On the recommendation of staff at the local Agricultural Technology Station, the company chose an early-maturing pear variety with strong market acceptance. It is a new crossbred variety developed and selected in recent years by the Jiangsu Academy of Agricultural Sciences, well suited to local conditions.

● This early-maturing pear is characterised by a small fruit core, 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 came to realise that although the company’s agriculture arm had adopted new varieties in anticipation of future returns, switching to new varieties was not necessarily a rational choice for local fruit growers. For one thing, buying new variety saplings from seed and nursery companies is a considerable expense. For another, higher-quality pears demand meticulous management, which in turn requires greater investment in labour and capital. With factories of all sizes in City S, giving up the orchard and taking factory work was arguably the more rational option when weighed against the steep up-front costs and uncertain future returns.

III. Early-Maturing Pears: Not So Easy to Grow

The local farmers, for various reasons, had not chosen this path. The company, too, made a more cautious arrangement: half of the 300 mu orchard would keep its existing varieties, while the other half would be replanted with the new early-maturing pear. To ensure both yield and quality, the existing pear trees were reshaped, underwent branch spreading, and were fitted with bird netting, while the new early-maturing pears demanded an entirely different management approach. Under the guidance of experienced local growers, I stumbled through my first year of experimentation, more or less.

The spring and summer work centred on pollinating the trees, flower and fruit thinning, and fruit bagging. The new pear variety has a relatively high self-fertility rate, but to guarantee the fruit set rate, pollinator trees still needed to be placed throughout the orchard, supplemented by beehives or hand pollination.

● Last April, one of the farm women was hand-pollinating the blossoms.

If heavy rain falls during the pollination window, both bees and hand pollination are affected, potentially causing a severe drop in yield. And even when the weather cooperates, pollination is no easy task. Pear blossom lasts only around twenty days, yet our orchard covers nearly 300 mu with tens of thousands of trees, every single flower needing to be dusted with pollen – a workload almost beyond imagination.

After pollination there are roughly ten days of respite before flower and fruit thinning must begin. Choosing which fruits to keep is a highly skilled art: one must maintain a sufficient leaf-to-fruit ratio, a technique I have yet to master to this day.

● In the early stages, the orchard receives basal fertiliser; this organic fertiliser is typically composted sheep manure purchased from neighbouring farmers.
Alongside the hectic rounds of pollination, flower and fruit thinning, and fruit bagging, the orchard demands routine work such as fertilising, weeding, irrigating and draining. Early-maturing pears place very high demands on fertilisation. Basal fertiliser is applied in the previous winter; in the following spring and summer, top-dressing is applied roughly every month, and in autumn the dosage must increase further. Fertiliser cannot all be applied at once – it calls for light and frequent fertilisation, which places very high demands on labour.

Weeding, too, is another extraordinarily labour-intensive task. To preserve soil fertility and water retention, we leave some weeds between the pear trees. But if those weeds grow too vigorous and their roots dig too deep, they may compete with the trees for soil moisture and nutrients, so weeding is essentially needed every month through the summer. With fewer workers available, we often find that weeding simply cannot keep pace with the rate of regrowth.

Every one of these tasks was a complete first for me as a novice fruit grower. And beyond the work in the fields, other challenges awaited.

IV. Managing People

The orchard’s workforce consists almost entirely of older people who, due to age restrictions, cannot work in factories and stay at home looking for something to do. They have little experience with routine orchard work and rarely encounter the kind of employment model the company operates, which makes managing them far from straightforward. The workers clock in and out from nine to five like any office staff, but unlike industrial production, agriculture must follow the weather and the farming calendar. In summer, I had to negotiate earlier start and finish times; during peak seasons, each worker needed to put in extra hours, with meals and rest breaks arranged in advance. Rewards alone are not enough – a personal touch and understanding are the essential lubricants that keep management running smoothly.

I remember one time a particularly quick and capable older woman worker suddenly handed in her notice, saying she had to pick up her granddaughter from nursery school at three or four in the afternoon, and the timings clashed. But it happened to be the critical fruit-bagging period, and losing one skilled worker could mean over a hundred trees failing to bear fruit. What to do? After a moment’s thought, I suggested she bring her granddaughter into the office area to play and then walk home together at the end of the day.

Small matters like this cropped up constantly. Managing workers who are two zodiac cycles older than me called for keeping a low profile and communicating in a way they could fully understand – that was the most effective management strategy. And above all, the more important thing throughout this process was understanding and respecting farmers.

In addition to managing the workforce, I had to purchase various pieces of farm machinery and equipment for the orchard’s production, all while complying with the company’s administrative regulations. Under the rules, I had to submit a spending plan for the following month at the start of each month and go through layers of approval before any equipment could be bought. Yet many needs in agricultural production are simply last-minute. During that first year, in order not to miss the farming calendar, I tried every trick in the book to navigate the bureaucracy – not to say it was exhausting.

V. Growing Pears Is Hard; Selling Them Is Harder

● July 2022 – our pears were ripe! Each one weighed around half a jin (about 250 g), with smooth, vivid green skin and a lovely shape.

After many a first, all that stumbling through our first year still paid off – the orchard bore fruit – and hearing colleagues praise the pears’ flavour gave me a wonderful sense of accomplishment. Yet another challenge was already looming.

As everyone knows, fresh fruit has a very short shelf life and is not easy to keep. Three hundred mu of output is not a great deal in itself – neither building a cold store nor leasing one would be worthwhile. Faced with the pressure of our performance review, we had no choice but to sell everything within a short window.

Looking back, our expectations for the new variety had perhaps been a touch too optimistic. After canvassing numerous fruit markets, supermarkets and fruit shops, we found that the early-maturing pear was simply too new to the market to be widely accepted.

The orchard’s scale presented another awkward predicament: on one hand, it was not small enough to function like Community Supported Agriculture, where a few dozen to a hundred consumers could absorb the farm’s entire output. On the other, it was not large enough to attract the stable, bulk purchasing arrangements that major agricultural companies enjoy.

● The three-year-old young trees have not yet reached their full-bearing period – the average yield is just over 100 kg per mu, and total output in 2022 was only 30,000 jin (15,000 kg). During the full-bearing period, the trees’ yield is expected to triple.
Getting into the offline market was difficult enough; the online market proved no easier. To gain a foothold on fresh-food e-commerce platforms, agricultural products require far more productisation and branding certification – standardised size, mouthfeel, origin, sub-variety, season, qualification certificates, pesticide residue testing and all manner of detailed labelling. All of this meant pouring more cost and energy into brand development. Under the group’s performance pressures, not one of us felt confident that our pears could become the next Chu Orange.

Some say the emergence of e-commerce platforms is a bottom-up revolution beginning at the downstream end of the supply chain. Yet by my observation, what consumers can decide is only whether to enter the online market – they cannot influence what is actually available to buy. Small-scale producers are shut out at the gate of productisation and standardisation, peering at consumers through a door they cannot open.

To bypass the layers of middlemen in the supply chain and reach consumers directly, we ultimately fell back on the traditional circle-based approach: taste first, then buy; word of mouth; targeted sales. From monitoring orders and dispatching deliveries to handling customer service afterwards, everything was done in-house – we truly lived through the meaning of “every single step was so hard-won”.

VI. A Temporary Farewell to the Orchard

The past two years have been a precious experience. In this time, I found a professional, dedicated and genuinely warm working team – no internet-giant crunch culture, no tense, defensive interpersonal dynamics, working conditions that kept me close to nature and the land, a comfortable and healthy environment. All of it was deeply satisfying. If I had to sum up the difficulty of this work in one sentence, it would be this: farming is truly hard, capital on your side or not. I recall visiting a local farmer’s family orchard once; the owner remarked, not without a certain wistfulness, ‘Farming is farming, but growing fruit trees is far harder than growing grain crops. They demand tending through all four seasons and weathering sudden natural disasters or human misfortune. No one is a farmer born and made – only by bending low and keeping at it can there be a good harvest.’

But regardless, agriculture is worth trying. Only by understanding the relationship between people, food and nature from the producer’s perspective can we cast our consumer votes more wisely.

Foodthink Contributor
Yvonne
Someone committed to understanding and making sense of the Anthropocene – an era that exhausts everything external to itself. A runaway sociology student with interests in agriculture, the environment and climate change.

 

 

 

All photographs in this article were taken by the author.

Edited by: Ze’en