When Jesse McDougall and his wife, Cally, took over the Vermont farm Cally's Aunt Edie had operated for decades, what they'd envisioned as a profitable business venture turned into a rude awakening.
Learning the ropes of running a conventional farm taught Cally and Jesse some hard truths about nature they hadn't anticipated. They kindled a suspicion. Could farming have had a hand in why Edie had died of a brain tumor at age 56?
The couple decided to take the farm cold turkey. No more chemical fertilizers. No more pesticides and herbicides. No more tilling to reduce weeds, either, and no more tiling to encourage water to drain more quickly into unprotected lakes an streams after a hard rain.
The result was disastrous. The soil turned dry and gravelly. It was prone to washouts. Edie's once-lush fields weren't able to produce much of anything except weeds.
The farm had suffered the same fate as she had, the McDougalls believed. All that man-made chemistry had, for all intents and purposes, cost the soil its ability to fight off disease on its own. Eventually the living organisms that sustain life had perished in the chemical onslaught.
Unwittingly, just by following the advice of the local farm bureau and the university extension service and the companies from whom she'd purchased seed, Edie had deprived her farm of its self-sufficiency by depleting its most precious resource, the carbon-rich soil made up of decomposed organic matter that maintains a healthy balance of interdependent organisms.
She had robbed her land of its ecosystem. Quite possibly, she had also shortened her own life.
Jesse and Cally had two choices: either they could invest in sprays and seeds, knowing they'd be leaving their own kids worse off down the road, or they could stay the course, risking bankruptcy, and slowly bring the farm back to life.