Hello all,

In the vein of thanking people instead of apologising, thank you for your patience. It has been, what some people are calling, one hell of a month.

For those of you who are new here, welcome to Scrap Farm, the newsletter/podcast where I discuss running a farm while setting up a farm. But now, dear listener/readers, we are no longer even running a farm. And we don’t quite know what country we will be starting our own farm in. But I’ll get to that in a bit.

Since we last spoke a lot has happened. The main points are these:

* My Babci (Polish grandmother) died

* My partner and I finished work on the farm in Michigan

* We moved out of our flat

* We flew to the UK and went to a wedding

* We viewed land in England

* We viewed a house and land in Michigan

* We had a meeting with a lawyer about the UK Visa

* I flew back to the US for my grandmother’s funeral

* My partner drove his belongings from Michigan to California to stay with family

* I visited my sister in Australia

Mostly in that order, but you get the gist. And somewhere in there Donald F*****g Trump won a second term. November 2024 will be remembered as one of the longest months of my life. It just. Would. Not. End.

With death and change hot on my heels I find myself in a time of deep grief. There are now no living grandparents left (but there is Great Uncle Eddie, who is still absolutely kicking at 96). I feel this loss most keenly in stories I will now never hear. In the now unnamed people and places in my Babci’s photo albums. In all the things I should have asked. The grief sits with me now, a silent party to the upheaval of this time.

The tangible loss of my grandmother is now also melded with a liminal loss of place. All my belongings fit into two suitcases. I have spent too much time in airports. Not enough time cooking. Have not stopped moving for more than 6 days at a time. Bouncing between revelry, grief, political unravelling and indecision.

My partner and I are in the throws of discussion. We are trying to decide where to live.

The options are clear but also cloudy, so I’ll try to lay them out.

Farming in the UK

After talking with a lawyer (for a very affordable price of £100, thanks to the Immigration Advice Service) we have to tread carefully and I have to get a job. For those of you unfamiliar with the UK’s b******t immigration policy a couple needs a combined income of £29k a year to apply for a Visa. Because this is our first time applying, I have to make that entire income myself to get my partner into the country. To prove this I need 6 months worth of paychecks. And realistically I will need to hold down a job for way longer than that. In those 6 months, my partner can visit the UK but he obviously cannot work here, live here or use the NHS. The jury is still out on if he’s allowed to get a driver’s licence. Once I have enough paychecks, and he is physically out of the country we can apply for the Visa. We need all the proof we collected over the past few years and a s**t-tone of money and then to wait several weeks as our fate hangs in the balance.

If he is allowed in then he can move over here and bein work on the land. This month we looked at some land near Exeter through the South West Land Match Scheme. The owners of which were very kind and let us visit (and stay overnight) during our whistlestop tour of the UK. The land has an enclosed section with shepherd huts that are likely to be redone into a barn, an orchard of young fruit trees and plenty of water. It is located between 3 market towns and about 30 minutes from Exeter which is ideal for the weekend market. The landowners are not only supportive but pretty cool (helped to set up the foodbank within their village). It’s a solid option. It could be done. We are still in discussion with them and nothing is set in stone just yet.

So what are the stumbling blocks? Well, the main one is that I need a Job. Pronto. ASAP. Probably yesterday. Has anyone looked at the job market recently? It’s fierce. I’m out here sending several tailored applications a day and so far, no dice. Add into this the unknown amount of time my partner and I will be apart and the general delay to our being able to farm next year. We’ve agreed we need to get out of thinking we’ll be sorted by March (when the farm work begins), but it’s hard not to think about the loss of growing time this year is likely to cause. There’s also the matter of us both needing UK driving licences (I grew up in London, when would I have needed one), of finding accommodation, of starting over again somewhere that is likely to be only temporary. Oh and in 3 years we’d have to do the VISA all over again.

But then there are the advantages. The political climate is less volatile. Yes, that’s with Keir Stahmer being a pro-genocide, anti-immigrant, neo-liberal wet tea towel. But it’s less on the verge of a civil war. There are also better things about the UK as a whole; public transport, the NHS (what remains of it), the lack of guns in schools, the proximity to my friends and family. The last two points are especially vital if we are to eventually start a family of our own. Not owning land would also give us flexibility and freedom, having support from the landowners and the LWA would be really helpful. Me having to have a job for at least some of the time would mean we don’t have to plough through all our savings immediately.

Farming in the US

Then there’s the other side of things. A side I have resisted for a while now but is a viable option that needs to be properly considered. My partner and I looked at land near where we have been living in Michigan. It was, unfortunately, close to perfect. 5 acres, with a beautiful 100-year-old barn, a farmhouse, a duck pond, an orchard, a mini-greenhouse and apparently some cats come with the property. Oh, and the owners seemed to like us and are in no rush to sell. It doesn’t however have a well, is surrounded on all sides by industrial agriculture and costs quite a f*****g lot.

To get this land we would have to go through the process of applying for a loan through the USDA. We’re currently adapting our business plan to the area to see if we would even be eligible for the loan. If we managed to get the loan and buy the property we would then have a mortgage to pay. Something not insignificant when starting a small business from scratch. But on the other hand, the land would be ours. Which is a wild thing to me as I made peace pretty early on with the fact I would never get on the property market. But now here is the option to do so and I honestly don’t know what to do with it.

So what are the stumbling blocks here? One would be getting well on the property, without which we would be unable to water crops. Another would be actually qualifying for the USDA loan. Then there’s the political situation in the US. Not looking very hopeful in terms of POC/women’s/LGBTQ+ rights, or environmental protections, or curbing the exponential rise of fascism. But then, how privileged is it of me to run away when things start looking bad? To take an option that so few people have, to just leave when there is good to be done and people to be fed. Conversely, does that mean I have a saviour complex if I do stay? There’s also the emotional aspect of it all. We have been telling people for the past year we’re moving to the UK, roadblock after roadblock, time after time. We said goodbye to our friends under these conditions. And I thought I might finally live near some of my family again. It feels selfish to stay and selfish to go.

But again, there are advantages. We know the area. In the past two years, we have built up a (pretty good) reputation with businesses and other farmers. There is a thriving local food scene which we were, until recently, a part of. That isn’t something small, the connections we made are strong and tended with care, and we wouldn’t have to start from scratch. The land itself has been used for growing organically and has all the buildings we would actually need to succeed (except a high tunnel). Not only that but we could own a house, and if it all went to s**t business-wise we could sell that house and get the money back (as someone who has paid more than £30k in rent so far in her life that is a real plus). No one would have to get a driver’s licence. Or a Visa. The no Visa would free up a big ol’ chunk of change we could put towards a high tunnel. But then we would have to pay a deposit on a house so either way these choices are expensive. Oh, and it’s sunny there (which cannot be said of the UK).

So here we are, the decision of it. The stretching thin on both our parts to keep both options open. To not yet close a door so we don’t yet have to climb out the window.

It’s homeownership and political unrest on one side and housing instability, family and free healthcare on the other. What a f*****g choice.

In all this, I have to remind myself what we’re actually working towards. It’s pretty funny that I’ve been using the ‘three pillars’ of what matters to me when applying for jobs, but I need to hark back to them now. Somewhat more sincerely.

Connection, Nourishment and Knowledge.

That’s what matters. Growing and supplying nutritious vegetables. Supporting the whole damn ecosystem. Building resilient communities, empowering them and sharing whatever information I can. No gatekeeping. Tearing down barriers to entry. And I’d like to do all this with my partner. That’s the core of it.

Wherever we end up this is what we are committing to doing. There will be people to feed, to get to know, to train and encourage, to learn from. There will be a community to join and mould. And if there isn’t