The 4WD pickup truck bumps along the half mile dirt road to Pat Tompkins’ Blue Ridge homestead. She stops briefly at a large stump beside the road to remember the tree that the stump used to be, giving a moment of respect to all that’s changed in her thirty years of farming. She then points to the place where her brakes failed once, and she coasted downhill, gaining speed. She emerged from that calamity with the older truck smashed and a few fingers broken, and counted herself blessed to be alive.
Then again, at Fork Mountain Farm, every day feels like a blessing.
Pat parks the truck by her barn, hewn from wormy chestnut once common and now rare. She has cultivated three of the 195 acres, surrounded by forest. The land here stretches from 3800 feet to 5000 feet in altitude. The air carries the sweet scent of freshly green berry bushes, wildflowers, and apple trees. A bee buzzes near Pat’s ear as if whispering a secret. Pat has planted wildflowers in her orchard to encourage the beneficial insects and birds.
“If you bend close to the cone flowers, they have the most intoxicating, spicy scent,” Pat says. “You have to put your nose right in there.”
She drapes a wooden basket around her neck and begins to pick berries. Fork Mountain Farm has 18 varieties of no-spray apples, 250 blueberry plants, black raspberries, raspberries, blackberries, and grapes. Today, she’s picking blackberries and red wineberries.
“That pole there marks a yellow jacket nest,” she says. “Be careful.”
She won’t be spraying to get rid of the yellow jackets, because it could upset the balance of nature. A bear probably will take care of it sooner or later, she asserts. Pat has lived at Fork Mountain Farm for more than 30 years. She never has sprayed any poisons in her orchard and never will. She believes in sustainable simplicity. Organic farms have 50 percent more pollinators than traditional farms, and Pat, like many organic farmers, encourages earthworms and beneficial insects, protecting the soil.
Pat works hard. When it’s time to prune the apple trees or pick the apples, she climbs up a ten foot ladder and then climbs into the trees, higher and higher, pruning as she goes. She takes the same route for harvesting, high up in the trees, and age hasn’t stopped her.
According to the Briefing on the Status of Rural America, the average age of a farmer in the USA is 58, and in North Carolina, more than 70 percent of farms are owned by farmers who, like Pat, are over the age of 55.
These trees got planted in her first year here, while she and her sons and a husband lived in the hand-built sharecropper’s cabin on the land. It’s beautifully constructed, with corners angle-cut so the logs fit together perfectly.
The family built a larger, 20 foot by 15 foot house on the land themselves, using flooring from a school house that was being torn down and windows repurposed from an old store building. Fresh, clear water comes from a spring-fed creek, and Pat travels to town to the public library when she needs to use the Internet or do laundry. Simplicity suits her, and for many years she dreamed of the life she’s created on Fork Mountain. She has an abundance of fresh produce, peace, and birdsong.
The berry bushes go right up to the porch. The house seems to be planted itself in the earth, close to the trees. One of the peach trees on the land actually sprang up from a spat seed. The closer to home, the better care can be taken, because the trees’ needs will be seen.
Pat weeds, mulches, and prunes. She uses no petroleum- based fertilizers or sewage sludge-based fertilizers, no bio-engineering, and no ionizing radiation. As the years have gone by, she’s learned more and more about permaculture. She’s had some help from interns who learn as they earn in her orchard.
Her sons grew up and moved away, and so did the husband. They donated their acreage to the Southern Highlands Appalachian Conservancy, with a life estate interest for Pat. Family farms have disappeared at a fast pace, and the conservancy offers several programs designed to help.
Pat has volunteered for the Mitchell County Community Giving Garden, and she’s organized a monthly meeting of neighbours to meet on the first Friday of each month. They don’t talk politics or religion, but share support about their gardens and their lives.
“We can rely more on our neighbours than on our government, which isn’t really much in touch with us,” Pat explains.
She’d like to increase sustainability by creating more ways for neighbours to sell or barter what they grow and make. Years ago, five stores graced the area, where neighbours could get together, trade, and talk. She wants to restore that feeling of having a community gathering place where people can help each other, crossing the divide of political judgments. They all share a deep love of the earth and a strong feeling of belonging in these mountains. Neighbours take care of each other, in sickness and in health.
Health care has been a concern for a while. Maternity services have been lacking, and neighbours have had to struggle along rough roads to Marion or Asheville. Many folks use the emergency rooms as their health care providers, Pat said, or go into neighbouring Tennessee. Nationwide, rural areas have 13.1 physicians per 10,000 people, compared to 31.2 per 10,000 in urban areas. Rural areas also have few specialists, with 30 per 100,000 people, as compared to 263 per 100,000 people in urban areas. A big company recently took over the nearest hospital, and already scant services have started to disappear altogether. Pat says her health care plan consists of hard work, organic food, and caring neighbours.
“We all care about health care,” she says. “Good organic food is the beginning to healthier bodies.”
She stretches in her orchard, surrounded by heirloom trees bearing Grimes Golden, Baldwin and Arkansas Black varieties. The Royal Galas suffered from some scabbing, and some of the dependable Liberty apples had some cracking. There’s always plenty of work to do.
Pat pushes a strand of hair back from her eyes as a wild turkey sprints from an apple tree back toward the berry bushes. Pat’s picked eight pints of berries today, and the turkey might nibble a few.
She smiles and says, “In life and in nature, it’s all about balance.”
