Resilience works differently at different scales – and our ability to influence requires collective action against the largest threats.
A few years ago, I wrote about climate resilience on small farms and also developed a workshop format. I have dug out one of the key graphs – it distinguishes farmer’s resilience at the level of our farm, our local community (our landscape, farming networks, and local community), and the larger public policy sphere. I also distinguished how the impacts of threats become more dramatic if they happen at large scale, while our ability to build resilience diminishes with scale. This year of 2021, nature has put this graph to the test – a story that I would like to share with you.
Spring 2021 is very, very hot and dry. After weeks of heat, we opened the beach season prematurely in Mid May, and swam in Lake Huron. Throughout May, we received an accumulated ½ inch of rain on our farm, which came on a single day. Our “climate resilience pond” beside our field has already dropped two feet already, and the grass above our septic system is dry – conditions that are usual mid July. It is not even June. Fields all around us are seeded, corn and beans are about a couple of inches high – the soil are mostly bare. Days are hot, and if I hang out clothing over night, it is dry in the morning.
The night to May 29, we experienced a killing frost, despite a forecast of 5°C. For the first time in 12 years, we lost all of our tomatoes – some 700 plants. Those peppers closest to the pond survived – but still we lost around 400. Our no-till soil was moist – we did what we could to build resilience locally, So what happened?
First, weather models do not have explicit soil moisture components. This means soil always behaves “average” – in dryer-than-usual years, models overestimate the balancing role of the soil sponge. The real weather then behaves more “desert-like” – weather models predict too warm night temperatures and too cold day temperatures. This effect is exasperated by the fact that agriculture in our region recently intensified – removal of hedgerows, drainage, and the wide conversion of permanent pasture into cropland. In addition to the soil effect, bare soil now creates updrafts and rural heat islands – while models are still calibrated to long-term land use. Weather models predict rainfall almost every day, while the real sky is blue and not a drop in sight. Land use indeed change the weather – in ways that has nothing to do with greenhouse gas-driven warming. And IF global warming brings a heat wave, then land use can either dampen or strengthen their effect. So what is the lesson? In drought, don’t trust the weather reports – and err on the safe side. We should have put out row cover, but hindsight is 20-20.
Kristine was pretty depressed – but there’s little time for emotions during this busy season, so she suppressed her tears. She send a “help-email” out to her local and not-so-local networks. Some home gardeners offered their 10 plants, and some small market gardeners offered 60 plants for a row. The hero of the day was Alvaro from Plan B – he called us, invited us into their farm bubble for a small COVID party of a big birthday, and offered us replacers. Now Kristine burst into tears – of gratitude.
Disaster brings out the best in people, and our community networks carried us back on track. We are now fully restocked in plants. I participated in a small family concert, and am emotionally recharged from long-missed friendly interaction during pandemic times. We know that it is unlikely that we can pay back this favour – but we will certainly pay it forward. We also were reminded about the value of community in times of need – and how a disaster can be turned into a moment of joy and hope.
Sometimes, we are surprised how our efforts to build community are described in capitalist terms. We “invest” in friendship and “social capital” that we can “withdraw from”. People talk about “trading in favours”, “getting even”. This story once again reminded us that this language of capitalism, the notion of competitive individualism, has no place in community. There is no direct reciprocity, no Tit-For-Tat. There is just generosity, abundance, and love. We will continue building community with our friends, and hope that this will inspire others to shed this capitalist individualistic language that has imprisoned our thoughts. COVID and climate change will teach all of us – we are grateful that we did not have to learn it the hard way.
So glad things worked out. There are only degrees of resilience now matter how hard we work to predict and mitigate, eh? Wish I could’ve helped with your trees but I’m treed myself!