Farming the Suburbs BY SARAH KOFF PHOTOGRAPHS BY LISE METZGER
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t’s just getting light on a chilly April morning, and Emma Jagoz is starting her day. She lets the chickens and ducks out of their coop, feeds them, collects eggs, and waters her starts. Jason soon arrives, and over a cup of coffee they discuss the day’s to-do list before he loads up the farm pickup and leaves. Emma feeds her kids oatmeal and brings the six-year-old, Mason, to meet his bus down the street. Driving down the quiet road in this subdivision of singlefamily homes, a person would have no idea Moon Valley Farm is here—no sign by the road, no barn, no indication at all of a farm except, perhaps, for the excessive number of cars in one particular driveway on CSA pickup day. It would actually be surprising to most locals to hear of a farm in this neighborhood—or in this town, for that matter. This is one of the suburbs of Baltimore County, Maryland, which have seen rapid population growth over the past few decades. As people move out of Baltimore into the rolling hills of the county, cornfields are being replaced with McMansions. Subdivisions and strip malls are rapidly covering green spaces like kudzu. A fair amount of woods, parks, and playgrounds still exist here, but any farms that remain are generally relegated to the rural outskirts of the county, beyond the suburbs.
suburbs. Farming on several properties is not unconventional in and of itself; plenty of growers lease or even own multiple pieces of land. What is unusual about Moon Valley Farm is that most of its properties are less than an acre in size, in backyards, and rent free. Emma’s “suburban” approach to farming relies on building and cultivating personal relationships among neighbors and, ultimately, on the goodness of people who are willing to share their land. That is, building a farm scattered around this busy, populated county took more than just knowing how to grow plants from seed. It took hosting farm tours, farm-to-table dinners, open houses, solstice celebrations, and chef tours, as well as radio interviews, farmer mentoring programs, master gardener and farm conference presentations, and good old-fashioned knocking on doors and having conversations with neighbors on the street. It took developing a whole community of people—some of whom never gave much thought to where their food came from, until they met Emma. But Emma’s resourcefulness, community-building efforts, and—let’s face it—old-fashioned friendliness have led to offers of land by numerous locals, most of whom don’t expect a thing in return, other than maybe a bit less lawn to mow.
What if there happens to be a person living in this suburban jungle who wants to be a farmer? How would she find the land—and afford it? She could start by getting to know her neighbors. That’s what Emma did.
Moon Valley Farm is spread over seven properties in the towns of Cockeysville, Phoenix, and Lutherville. Emma’s own backyard, nicknamed “The Farm Proper,” is one. “The Loch” is two. Then there’s Marc, Sweetair, Next-door, Richard, and Ed, mostly named after the person who owns each yard.
Emma spent a few years building up a network of local supporters, including many of the families in the development where she lives. Now, she and co-farmer Jason James grow fruit and veggies on several plots of land scattered around their community and have made a business of farming the
After spending the morning transplanting seedlings in the high tunnel on The Farm Proper with her daughter, Anisa, Emma hops into her minivan, which is filled with trays of scallion starts on every possible horizontal surface. It’s going to rain tomorrow, so she’s got to get these into the
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