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Moon Valley Farm owner Emma Jagoz checks the soil at the property in Woodsboro, Maryland. PHOTOS: THE WASHINGTON POST
Produce boxes packed and ready for delivery at Moon Valley Farm
Facing devastating losses, small farmers
pivot to sell directly to consumers
Emily Heil
THE WASHINGTON POST - For many farmers,
March is the calm before the storm of spring.
But this year, in addition to ordering seeds
and planning crops, small farmers around the
country are finding themselves with very dif-
ferent tasks as the coronavirus outbreak up-
ends their worlds: They’re remaking business
plans, marketing new offerings and rewriting
their sanitation rules.
“I’m spending a lot more time behind a
computer than I ever have,” said Shannon
Varley, who co-owns Strafford Village Farm in
Vermont with her husband, where they grow
vegetables and flowers and produce beef
and lamb on 178 acres. “I’d usually be out in
the fields.”
Small farms are rushing to adapt, with
many pivoting from supplying restaurants,
specialty shops and schools - many are
closed now - to selling directly to custom-
ers. They are shifting to new ways of inter-
acting, including no-touch deliveries and
drive-through pickups. Some are simply
waiting it out, hoping the crops they’re
planting will be harvested in a world that’s
gone back to normal.
Like many small businesses, farms could
feel devastating effects of the pandemic. Ac-
cording to a report by the National Sustain-
able Agriculture Coalition, which represents
small farms, farms and ranches that sell lo-
cally could see a decline in sales of as much
as USD688.7 million. And the aid they will
receive from the just-passed stimulus bill is
unclear: The law includes USD9.5 billion for
farmers, but it’s up to the Department of Ag-
riculture to distribute it among livestock pro-
ducers, specialty crop producers and those
who sell at farmers markets.
Still, some farmers are finding a silver
lining, as customers face empty shelves in
their grocery stores and start asking ques-
tions that the local-food movement has long
posed: Where does my food come from?
How many people have touched this apple,
this lettuce? And what happens if the in-
tricate supply chain that gets the produce
from far-flung countries to my refrigerator is
suddenly upended?
For Beckie and Jack Gurley, the corona-
virus era has meant upheaval - and opportu-
nity. The couple own Calvert’s Gift Farm in ru-
ral Maryland, and she operates Chesapeake
Farm to Table, a collective of small farms that
sell their wares from a single portal. Until the
virus closed restaurants, most of its custom-
ers were chefs from Baltimore and the sur-
rounding region seeking local produce, eggs,
beef, beans, honey and cheeses to grace
their menus.
In early March, those orders dried up as
public officials ordered restaurants to close
their dining rooms. Some moved to takeout
and delivery only, yet the farm-to-table busi-
ness evaporated almost overnight. But then a
surprising thing happened: Chefs were quick-
ly replaced by individual customers, families
who wanted food they knew the source of -
or just food at all, as people snapped up the
goods from grocery stores and big boxes.
“Out of the blue, all these people have found
us, and it’s been fabulous,” Beckie said.
She’s not entirely sure how the turnabout
came. Social media isn’t her forte, she chuck-
les. But accommodating the new custom-
ers took some hustle. Restaurant customers
were fewer and placed larger orders than the
smaller but more numerous families she’s
now catering to. So she had to increase her