Straddling a row of delicata squash plants, Connor Slane flips the leaves over like a dealer with a pack of cards. "The eggs come in little clusters, so they're easy to spot," he says, inspecting the underside of each leaf. "The adults are usually close to the ground, and they look kind of like leafhoppers."
"This is what I do,” he says, holding out an adult bug. “Watch." He gives it a quick squeeze with his thumb and forefinger and the bug bursts. "People told me you can't farm organically in Alabama. Too many bugs," Connor says. "But you just have to keep ahead of them."
This scene is not uncommon at Genesis Gardens, a regenerative farm in Wilsonville, Ala. Connor and Rebecca Slane grow every crop without pesticides, using builder's paper and cardboard to tamp down the weeds, spending hours each week plucking bugs off plants by hand.
As with most farms, the work at Genesis Gardens never ends. There are always new plants to propagate, weeds to deal with, and vegetables to harvest, plus food to be prepared for their CSA (community supported agriculture).
Fortunately, the Slanes have plenty of helpers. The farm is home to four goats, who keep down weeds; 21 ducks, who control the insect population; two geese, who guard and herd the ducks; and a flock of chickens, who clean up the vegetable rows after harvest and produce manure, eggs, and the occasional meal. Rodent pests are handled by a burly gray cat named Doge, after the government agency. "We got him around the same time the agency started," Connor explains. "If he stands on your feet, it means he likes you."
The Slanes also own four cows, which Connor milks by hand. "I've gotten pretty good at it," he says. "When we started, it took Rebecca and I together an hour and 20 minutes to milk one cow. Now I can do a cow in about seven minutes."
On the farm, nothing goes to waste. A decrepit trailer serves as a mobile chicken coop. Moldy hay makes decent mulch. Even scraps that would normally be thrown out (like an inedible dead chicken) are tossed into a plastic tote that sits in a secluded spot in one field. A hole in the lid lets in flies, whose larvae happily go to work, and a little spigot near the bottom lets out nitrogen-rich liquid compost. It stinks, but it works.
The Slanes started Genesis Gardens in 2024 on an old horse farm purchased by Rebecca's father. The horses are long gone, but the two barns still stand. The more solid one now sports a fresh coat of red paint. The Slanes have since built another building on the property, which contains a food prep area and a business office, where a large desk sits next to a play area for their six-month-old, Teddy. Connor hopes that Teddy will soon be able to join in the work, squashing bugs alongside his dad. "He's just about the right height for it," he says, tongue-in-cheek.
Genesis Gardens isn't simply a hobby or a job for the Slanes. They speak of it almost more as a calling, something they do by conviction. Both Connor and Rebecca gave up their careers to start the farm, Connor as an assistant pro and private golf instructor (and one-time pro golfer) and Rebecca as a dietician. As they see it, the farm is a blessing to them, their growing family, and the community at large. They find it troubling that people today are so disconnected from the source of their food. Grocery stores do a great job moving food around the country and preserving it so that it still looks appealing on the shelf, but to make that happen, they must sacrifice quality. "Food has to be local," Connor says. He was 30 years old before he ate a real tomato, meaning a tomato that grew naturally and came right off the plant. "My son is six months old and he's eating them now."
The difference between a shelf-preserved vegetable and one that has been grown organically and locally is apparent to their CSA customers, who regularly tell Rebecca how good the food tastes. On the other hand, for people who are used to having access to everything all year round, the limitations of a CSA can be a tough adjustment. Local strawberries taste better, but you can only eat them when they're in season. As Connor puts it, "If you want local, you have to give things up."
The Slanes would like to share their vision with others. They would especially love to have young people working alongside them on the farm, but are frustrated by the poor work ethic they've observed. Working long hours outside, with the sun on your neck and bugs in your face, is a strong dose of reality not everyone is ready for. "It's not for the faint of heart," says Rebecca. "The big picture is awesome, but the day-to-day tasks aren't fun."
In the baking sun, standing near their row of muscadine, Connor and Rebecca describe their grandfathers, both of whom worked on farms. Connor's grandfather farmed during the Great Depression. "He chopped wood with an axe when he was four years old, and he thought it was fun," Connor says. "When he was five, he helped his brother plow by driving the mule."
Rebecca describes her grandfather washing hundreds of eggs. "It makes you a patient person," she says. The Slanes see farm work as teaching responsibility. Not only do the plants and animals depend on you, the family's livelihood does, too. At the very least, it teaches you the skill of, in Rebecca's words, "not being a wimp."
The name "Genesis Gardens" hearkens back to Eden, where gardening was the original human occupation. The farming methods they employ are inspired by a movement called "Farming God's Way," which was started to help impoverished Africans farm more effectively. While Connor and Rebecca follow many of the practices, they are aware that what works in Africa may not apply in Central Alabama. For example, they used a tractor to till a few inches of the soil instead of doing it by hand with a hoe, as recommended in "Farming God's Way." Connor's reasoning is that, if African farmers had access to tractors and tillers, they would certainly use them. "As long as you're only going a few inches down, it's essentially the same thing," he says.
In the early days, the Slanes were less flexible in their thinking. Attempting to kill weeds without tilling or cutting up any of the ground, they purchased $5,000 worth of plastic tarps to cover an entire acre of land. It didn’t work, and the weeds came back with vengeance. "It was the biggest mistake we made," Connor says. Now they are more realistic about finding solutions that work for them on their land. They use tractors and electric fences powered by lunchbox-sized solar generators. The principles they abide by are more about sustainable, regenerative farming than time-traveling back to a previous century.
The Slanes realize that more conventional farming methods would make their jobs easier and increase their yield in the short term. Their way is hard and the pace is slow. Connor remembers asking his friend Noah, another Alabama farmer following the same regenerative farming methods, why it is so important to do so much of the work by hand. "That's how you keep yourself from farming more than you can handle," Noah replied. Working at a human pace puts a cap on how much land a person is able to farm. "I figure we need one full-time employee per quarter acre," Connor says. Those aren't get-rich-quick numbers, but they are sustainable ones. "We don't want to grow too fast," he says.
The biggest challenge – and the biggest blessing – for both of them is being so utterly dependent on factors outside their control. During their first year, excessive rain ruined most of their crops. Next year, they might suffer from drought. “We’re 100% dependent on the Lord,” says Rebecca. It’s a vulnerable position to be in, yet somehow there has always been enough for them to keep going. It’s a slow process, but they are learning and growing every day. Already they are looking forward to next season when they can apply what they’ve learned this year.
As the afternoon wears on, Connor takes a break from squashing bugs to look out over the farm. Rebecca is harvesting butternut squash in a nearby patch. "You know, I played golf professionally," Connor says. "I played at a fairly high level. It was hard. But this feels like another level entirely.”
Christian Leithart is a writer and teacher and the co-founder of Little Word, a children's book publishing company. He lives in Birmingham with his wife and two children.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to [email protected].
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