One Perspective on Community Consensus

By David

I first encountered consensus when I came to Cobb Hill several years ago. Coming from a background of teaching religious studies, I knew that the Quakers practiced consensus as a way of overcoming ego and seeking collective harmony. In Christianity, consensus is often linked to the belief that human beings are members of one spiritual body and are called to discern the will of God together rather than pursue individual power alone. In Buddhism, consensus is connected to interdependence and the reduction of attachment to the self. In all cases, consensus is intended as more than a political tool: rather, it is a moral and spiritual practice that seeks to transform the community as well as the individual. That is what I knew from my teaching but I had never experienced it in practice.

What I have learned is that consensus is not the silence after argument, nor the weak surrender of one voice to another. Rather it begins in listening to the voices of others. One speaks like thunder. One speaks like rain on leaves. One cannot yet speak at all. Still, the circle waits. In this process not every difference disappears, not every wound is healed. Sometimes the process does not work at all. Or it may take several meetings. Yet, more often than not, people begin to loosen their grip on being right. Slowly, beneath opinion and fear, people speak more gently, the self loosens its armor and listens. And when consensus finally appears, it does not arrive as a shout of victory. It arrives softly: a shared breath, a gentler gaze, a feeling that the walls between lives have become thinner. For a moment, no one stands above another. No one is forgotten. And in that fragile human harmony, the sacred becomes visible.

Raising my Family at Cobb Hill Cohousing

by Lilah

Moving from the suburbs of Boston to an intentional community in rural Vermont was a decision driven by many factors including wanting to be closer to nature and farming, choosing a more sustainable lifestyle, desiring community living, and prioritizing a healthy place for my children to grow up. The African proverb, "It takes a village to raise a child," is a needed antidote to a growing crisis in modern family living where parents are increasingly isolated due to a culture and economic system that has dispersed families and made obsolete the deep intergenerational connection to the land. While community living is not a utopia, it affords many benefits to not only the individual families, but also supports intergenerational relationships that are missed in the modern drive for over 55+ gated communities.  

Family life at Cobb Hill in many ways is not so different from a close-knit neighborhood. Some of the differences are more subtle, but permeate life on the Hill. The design of the physical space prioritizes walkways and ample greenspace, with parking on the periphery, making space for safe play surrounded by beauty with twenty-three households keeping an eye on the young intrepid explorers. It is not uncommon to see residents taking the time to connect with the younger members of the community to talk about what's in their garden, activities at school, or connect with a furry loved-one. Some of the benefits are not unique to Cobb Hill, but a throwback to a more simple time, where kids roam freely and come back when it gets dark or having a carpool and phone tree for group pick up from the various local school activities.

For me personally, there are a number of opportunities of living in a community that are especially beneficial for families with kids. During our monthly work day, children can participate with the adults to help complete needed community projects. I love watching my kids go off confidently with other adult community members to stack firewood, cook in the kitchen, remove invasive plants, and other needed tasks. There are also a number of important community and committee meetings at the common house, which is just a stone's throw from my home. This allows me to participate in meaningful ways, while my kids are either safe at home or playing in the common house during those meetings. Building ritual activities is another plus, such as an annual Halloween party, New Year's Eve potluck & dance celebration, community summer camp, Memorial day potluck, 4th of July potluck and celebration, and other family-friendly events that deepen ties through shared meaningful experiences. Cobb Hill, like any other place where humans reside and interact, still has to deal with the challenges of interpersonal conflicts and disagreements. Thankfully, we are actively working on our interpersonal skills and address conflicts where possible. It is a work in progress, but worth the effort.

Over the years, life on the Hill has evolved with the individuals who have come and gone, bringing their unique gifts and offerings to the community. Life at Cobb Hill is a place where collective benefits come from what you put into it, from an active 4-H program that connects youngsters to agricultural skills, to volunteers who share their time to build native bees and bird boxes, and mentors who connect our next generation to the skills needed for a future aligned with nature and human-scale living. It feels bountiful to live at Cobb Hill and I am grateful to have the opportunity to grow as a person and watch my children thrive in community.

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Animal Menagerie

by Lilah

Spring is a time for babies on the farm, inviting the curiosity and attention of the children on the Hill. What a wonderful way to celebrate the annual pulse of new life than to tend to our community's newest furred and feathered friends. Kerry, of Cedar Mountain Farm, runs the community 4-H program, where children from both Cobb Hill and the surrounding towns come together to care for Jersey calves and practice the 4-H values of Head, Heart, Hands, and Health. Our community has also recently welcomed a litter of piglets being raised by Zander out in the farms’s silvopasture and a clutch of new chicks to be added to the flock after they mature this summer.

In our newest animal adventure, volunteers built a rabbit room in the barn and purchased four 6-month-old rabbits for families and their children to look after and potentially show at 4-H events. It brings me great joy to see little hands cradling warm silky bunnies in their laps and feeding them fresh greens from the garden. In addition to domestic duties, our children also spend time petting and indulging the cats and dogs roaming the paths looking for affection. While adventuring in the neighborhood, kids can also be found delighting in the grubs, caterpillars, pill bugs, ants, nesting baby chicks, and fat worms wiggling in the loamy earth.   

By collectively caring for our friends on the farm and being present to the natural world, we practice the three pillars of Cobb Hill: local agriculture, sustainability, and community. In sharing responsibilities, children and adults alike participate in intentional land and animal care that both feeds the soul and body.  

"When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.” ― Aldo Leopold

A Morning in May

by David

So far as I know, on any given day, the Cobb Hill morning begins at 4:00 am when Kerry arrives at the barn to milk the cows. She is joined by current farm employees Zander, Mariena, and Delaney, and the chores begin. On some days, Willow jogs by on her five-mile loop up Mace Hill Road. Next, Jasmine, my golden retriever, and I head out for our morning stroll past the chicken coop, where squawking is well underway, and around to the labyrinth where I am scattering wildflower seeds around the circumference. At 6 am, Stephen climbs to the Common House attic for an hour of meditation and yoga. 7:30 arrives, and the elementary school kids tumble out from their hillside houses and parade down our central pathway to the school bus stop. Often by this time, Rooz has departed to teach high school; Lorie, Rachel, and Colleen to profess at Dartmouth College; Jenny to administer at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center; Sally to counsel at Vermont Law School; with some having older kids in tow to drop off at area schools.

Around 8 am, the cows start dancing their way up the cow path to the pasture. Stella is usually in the lead. Helen, Phil, Lauren, and Julianne may be heading out to their gardens, Bill E. to build the next stage of the high tunnel greenhouse, Bonnie to gather chicken eggs, Audrey to collect herbs, Jesse to weld down in the shop, Howard to prune trees with Bella his dog always nearby, Sandy to the UU church to help out at the food shelf, while others start tending to gardens and fields throughout our land. As the morning progresses, walkers set out around the loop and through our more than 200 acres of forest. Bill S., Don, and Peter may well zoom by on their bikes to get a ride in before settling in at their computers. And others working from home sip morning beverages before their first work calls. At various points, folks wander down to our common mailboxes, where leisurely conversations, “Cobb Hill traffic,” ensue. Most are noticing the weather and the subtle sounds and sights of our verdant early spring rural Vermont landscape.

A Home with a Heart: Reflections from Beth and Phil

At Cobb Hill, our homes are more than just buildings—they’re woven into the story of the land, the people, and the values we share. This month, we want to highlight a very special home now for sale—not by listing specs and square footage, but by sharing the heart behind it.

Beth and Phil, two of Cobb Hill’s founding members, have lived in this home since the very beginning. They helped design not only the house itself, but also the gardens, systems, and spirit of the community around it. They raised their two daughters here, who are now full grown and living their own vibrant lives. Their family's presence is felt in the stones of the path, the soil of the garden, and the culture of care and cooperation that defines life here.

We asked them to reflect on what this home has meant to them, and what they hope it might become for someone new.

Interview with Beth and Phil 

1. What originally drew you to help create Cobb Hill, and what were your hopes for the kind of community it would become?

So much of what drew us to the vision of Cobb Hill (long before it was called Cobb Hill or even before we knew it would be on this piece of land) is here today. The idea of community, of having others to share work and fun and learning with. The idea of sustainability of making it easier to live within the Earth’s limits. Whether it’s the PV panels on the barn or the way our passive solar super-insulated home is so cozy on a freezing winter day, it has been a delight to experience that vision of more sustainable living as part of our daily life here. Another thread that has been so important to us from the start is the commitment to making decisions by consensus. While it hasn’t always been easy, it’s been an honor and an inspiration to be part of a group that is trying to operate in a way that includes deep listening, mutual respect, and a shared search for wisdom.

And in fact, because these initial values that were so important to us in the early days are alive and well today, although we are selling our house, we intend to remain a part of Cobb Hill, moving to a different home that is still a part of the whole ongoing experiment!

2. What did this home mean to you during the design and building process—and what intentions or hopes did you pour into it at that time?

Looking back, we never really thought of the design decisions for the home separate from the design of all of Cobb Hill. That was partly practical since we were figuring everything out at once - the site map, the common house design, the governance structure. But also the homes were never meant to stand alone - there are so many shared systems, and we have the common house as an extension of our own homes. We did make a few choices that stood for our own values as a couple within the wider set of values of the community. We chose a duplex for more neighborly connection and because it was more efficient with materials. We chose the smaller footprint option to try to minimize costs and our environmental impact. And we chose the location on the site because it had an inviting spot for gardening - a garden that helped feed our family for many years and is now full of perennials, berry bushes, and more.

3. What have been some of your most meaningful experiences living here—moments that felt like “this is why we built this”?

That’s a long list. Some big accomplishments like finding a way to add solar panels to the barn roof or watching the level of invasive species reduce a little bit because of our work. But also little moments - snowshoeing in the moonlight, watching our kids pile into the car with our neighbor Marie who wanted to share her love of opera. Enjoying how our daughters almost had an honorary brother in the son of our duplex mates, watching our kids develop a love of food and farming that has shaped their lives as adults.

4. What makes your home—and its place in the community—special to you?

Each Cobb Hill home is special. Each has a little bit of a different angle on the sunrise, a little more or a little less elevation. Some things we’ve enjoyed about this house are how close it is to the common house and barnyard making it easy to feel a part of things, and how many gorgeous sunrises and rainbows we’ve seen from our deck on the east of the house. We’ve also had such enjoyment improving the soil in the gardens around the house and establishing herbs, flowers, berries, and fruit trees so that there’s beauty to enjoy and often tasty things to harvest.

5. What kind of person or family do you imagine thriving in this home and community next?

The possibilities are endless. This was a great home for us to raise a family in, a family inclined to many projects - homeschooling, big groups of wandering kids, food preserving, crafts and hobbies, and lots of cooking. The house, while one of the smaller units at Cobb Hill, seemed to hold it all well. But who knows, maybe the next person to own the house will be a single cello-playing knitter or a grandpa with two cats who translates Japanese poetry. The lucky thing is, since we are sticking around, we will get to find out!

There's Something in the Air

by Julianne

After a fairly snowy start to the year, we are feeling the (literal) winds of change here on the Hill. The snow has melted, except where there were big heaps from the snow plow or north-side roof dumps. Increasing daylight and warming temperatures bring some bracing blasts across the region. And on those moving air currents I notice the smells of spring.

The soil is soaking up the snow melt and exuding a rich, loamy scent. Pungent aromas from the dairy operation foretell the return of rich nutrients to fields and gardens. In other senses, my ears are enjoying the increased twittering of birds, and the sounds of kids playing outdoors make me smile. Prunings and garden trimmings are replacing dirty snow piles, and tiny buds are starting to develop on shrubs and trees.  

We are soaking up this earth energy like hungry, waking bears – sitting in the sunshine, chatting with neighbors on the path, watching a game of tag through our windows. And it’s making us excited for new seed catalogs and setting our gardening intentions for the coming months.

In the midst of these vast and vivid sensory inputs we are relishing here, I want to mention two particular things that I have found inspiring recently.

First of all, Cedar Mountain Farm put out a request for volunteers to help replace the skin on one of the greenhouses this week. Eight or nine of us heeded the call, and together we pulled down the old covering material, took away debris, spread a new double layer of heavy plastic, and secured it to the frame. I enjoyed this whole process because it was both building an important structure for the farmers and strengthening our connections to land and community. The collective effort put the propagation tunnel back online just in time for the farm’s seed starting in the next week or two.

Second, it’s that time of year when billowing steam rises from the local sugar houses, carrying another of my favorite smells – maple! Our sugaring operation is in full swing, with two local folks in charge of our sugar making on the far side of our property. Generations of the Hunt family, the previous owners of half of our property, carried on this tradition in this place, and Ken Hunt has been sharing his expertise with our operation since we purchased the land. Over the years we have continued to put our proceeds back into equipment and sugar house improvements, and we now boast a really slick operation that rivals the big guys in technology and skill.  

If I could share a “picture” of the delicious smells of the sugar house, I would. Instead, I’ll include a visual picture or two to give your imagination some material.

Welcome to the spring equinox and the lengthening days!

A Month in the Life

There’s always something to work on here! The ruralness, large acreage, old barns, number of projects, and the fact that, for better or worse, we don’t hire out for much in our community means that we have a lot of work to do. Work and the various aspects of community life come in all shapes and sizes. There’s something for everyone and everyone assumes important roles – from caring for the chickens, maintaining our website, doing our accounting, operating our water system, coordinating the snow plowing, leading committees, facilitating work day or community meetings, organizing Garn teams, coordinating the inventory of firewood, and so much more. We organize much of what we do in several committees; ideally, everyone is an active member in at least one committee.

New railings for our steps - one small example of a shared community project!

This is a very hands-on place to live and we advise prospective residents to take stock of the fullness of their current life. Is it already more than full with work obligations, family needs, household chores, extended family, hobbies, volunteer duties, etc.? It can be overwhelming to add another significant aspect to your life without giving something else up OR it can be just what you’re looking for - something to dive into with gusto - or anywhere in between!

We’re often asked how many hours a week or month we all spend on community stuff. There is not a set number, that’s not how we track things, and it varies widely depending on the person and tasks to be done and roles they take on. However, to give you a better sense of what some months might look like, we’ve created a calendar with example people’s community contributions.

We're looking for potential new neighbors who want to be involved, have space and time in their life to lean in, to show up, be present, to engage, interact, be active participants & contributing members in various ways, help keep this place functioning, make our shared home even better, build relationships, teach us, and learn from others. There are times when we all have busy periods with our careers, raising kids, and other parts of our lives and we’ll take a temporary step back from community life - that reality is acknowledged and accepted - but generally, are you willing and able to step up where and when you can?

Our community is only as good as each of us makes it!

Click and peruse the example year here to get a feeling for some of the “work” to be done, meetings to attend, and some of the celebrations and social gatherings.

Why I Garden

Many (but not all) of us find our way to Cobb Hill with a desire to interact with the land in some way. In addition to the fact that we have a farm here (Cedar Mountain Farm, owned and run by the Leslie-Gawalt dynamic duo) that provides many nourishing products, some of us are drawn to the autonomy of gardening - providing some of our own sustenance, like veggies, fruit, flowers, and medicine. It’s not a prerequisite to have a green thumb, but many of us enjoy having our hands in the soil, whether right around our house, or in a larger plot down the hill set aside for garden space, where the soil is best. We don’t individually own the garden space, but rather tend and steward it until we no longer wish to. When asked to answer, “why do you garden?” here is what a few folks shared:

I grow vegetables and fruits because I get a lot of joy out of growing some of my own food and eating food fresh from the garden. It tastes SO yummy and fresh and provides food for putting up in various ways (canning, root cellar, freezing, drying) so I can enjoy it all year long. I put my canning jars on the kitchen wall, like a backsplash, to enjoy the visual beauty of the colors and textures from the garden...visitors love seeing them in our kitchen and it is great to share the beauty in this way. But the biggest reason I garden is because it makes me feel closer to the earth, the seasons, the insects, and the soil. Gardening takes my busy mind away from its daily rumination and focuses my thoughts onto the sensory pleasures of digging, pulling, planting, watering, picking, smelling, tasting, and just being. – LL

I garden because it is magical! Tiny seeds grow into plants abundant with food or flowers! And it challenges my attunement to my environment, my skills at building soil, my patience and perseverance. Perhaps more than all of this I derive a huge amount of satisfaction in harvesting, preparing, and eating what I have grown, knowing that this food and these flowers were produced on our land, without chemical inputs or pesticides. And how awesome is it to be surrounded by other gardeners/farmers who one can share skills, successes, and failures with? The learning never stops, nor the beauty of gardens. – SG

I garden because it connects me to the land. Working the soil helps to ground me (no pun intended!), draining away any stress and/or negative energy that I've accumulated over the course of my day. My garden brings me peace, a place of sanctuary from the realities of everyday life, as I continue the process of nourishing myself with fresh organic vegetables (& free exercise!). And all the while, my senses are stimulated: I feel the sun on my back, the wind in my face, the soil between my fingers. I hear the birds chirping, I smell the soil and plant aromas, and I see the various shades of multiple earth colors all around me. My gardening is one way for me to honor (& preserve) this gift of fertile land that I have been blessed with. – BE

It grounds me, brings me joy and solace. There’s nothing better than eating organic veggies from our garden. Flower gardening is my passion and livelihood. – KS

I garden because of the taste of fresh food, a more tangible way to participate in sustainability than the writing and analysis of my "day job" and to get exercise, feel sunshine, and work together with others. – BS

I find gardening short of a miracle. These little seeds germinate into incredible plants whether it be vegetables, flowers, or herbs that feed us and give us joy. It’s a haven for me. My own space. Even weeding gives me a sense of satisfaction when completed. – HP

I garden because tending my plants is often the only reasonable excuse I can come up with to leave my comfortable inside world. I garden because I adore the parade of surprises, delightful and horrifying, that await in the myriad textures of soil, under the sun-warmed stones, in the aromas that hang in humid summer air, or hide on the underside of the rough, hairy leaves. I garden because I’m compelled to believe, against all odds and evidence, that this will be the season I manage to succeed at keeping back the oppressive forces and somehow accomplish the paradise garden of my dreams. I garden because I have a poor memory. I garden because of that lonely hour at dusk, dizzy with petrichor, on hands and knees, when the moonrise manages to take my breath away once again, and I don’t feel so alone. – AG

What’s it Like to Live With a Bunch of People?

Well, have you ever had roommates, housemates, been in a romantic relationship, or in a band? Do you remember squabbling over chores, different cleanliness tolerances, finances, did you have miscommunications, did people get hurt feelings?

This is that times fifty!

We balance all of these dynamics in our own households PLUS community-wide. That’s co-housing. 

Does it take a lot of self-awareness, humility, self-growth, communication skills, engagement, willingness, hard work, and so so so so many emails and meetings? You betcha.

We’re a bunch of humans who are trying to live together in a communal way, yet don’t know how because we grew up in the modern American individualistic society that surrounds us. We are people with our own pasts, baggage, triggers, emotions, opinions, traumas, healthy/unhealthy coping skills…and it gets messy. We get some things right and some things wrong. 

Sometimes, people get mad and don’t speak to each other. Maybe they successfully resolve the conflict and maybe it gets ignored and festers until it’s a dark cloud over the whole community, maybe someone moves out because it’s untenable. Guilt, resentment, and shame are common emotions that are discussed in relation to running this place together. We get frustrated when we spend hours and several meetings to make one small decision about our shared home. Sometimes it can seem that there are grievances, criticisms, and limits at every turn. Some people are sad when tensions and anxieties rise. Some people retreat from community life when things get hard and others rise up to help lead us through. Hopefully we can apologize when we mess up. Ideally we call each other “in” not “out” for wrongdoings.

What is it like when it’s working well? I’d say we’re breaking bread together regularly, it seems like everyone is pulling their weight, we have productive and heartfelt meetings, joyful events are planned and attended, folks are using good conscious communication skills and thinking about the impact of their words, our egos don’t get in the way, we feel like we understand each other, we feel a strong sense of trust and relationship, we are empathetic and supportive, people step up to fill roles and problem solve, and people generally have space in their life for community care.

When it’s working well our differences become a source of strength, and we feel that our decisions are wiser because of the many perspectives they encompass.

When it’s working well we feel connected and as though our neighbors know us well, embracing us despite our foibles and idiosyncrasies. We’ve taken the time to build trust and a community of care. There is gratitude for the depth of friendships that can emerge, sharing cups of tea, hikes, skiing, encouraging each other in biking and pickleball, going to shows together, supporting each other in times of need, and children run from house to house with immense levels of safety and joy. Our relationships can sometimes feel like a combination of being neighbors, family, friends, and co-workers – all at the same time.  

The social, emotional, interpersonal aspects of co-housing are not easy. Embarking on this way of living is quite the endeavor, but when you do it whole-heartedly, it can be beautiful.

Happy Earth Day

The Laws of the Earth and the Laws of Economics

By Donella Meadows

–December 12, 1996–

The first commandment of economics is: grow. Grow forever. Companies must get bigger.  National economies need to swell by a certain percent each year. People should want more, make more, earn more, spend more, ever more.

The first commandment of the Earth is: enough. Just so much and no more. Just so much soil. Just so much water. Just so much sunshine. Everything born of the earth grows to its appropriate size and then stops. The planet does not get bigger, it gets better. Its creatures learn, mature, diversify, evolve, create amazing beauty and novelty and complexity, but live within absolute limits.

Now, when there’s an inconsistency between human economics and the laws of planet Earth, which do you think is going to win?

Economics says: compete. Only by pitting yourself against a worthy opponent will you perform efficiently. The reward for successful competition will be growth. You will eat up your opponents, one by one, and as you do, you will gain the resources to do it some more.

The Earth says: compete, yes, but keep your competition in bounds. Don’t annihilate. Take only what you need. Leave your competitor enough to live. Wherever possible, don’t compete, cooperate. Pollinate each other, create shelter for each other, build firm structures that lift smaller species up to the light. Pass around the nutrients, share the territory. Some kinds of excellence rise out of competition; other kinds rise out of cooperation. You’re not in a war, you’re in a community.

Which of those mandates makes a world worth living in?

Economics says: use it up fast. Don’t bother with repair; the sooner something wears out, the sooner you’ll buy another. That makes the gross national product go round. Throw things out when you get tired of them. Throw them to a place where they become useless. Grab materials and energy to make more. Shave the forests every 30 years. Get the oil out of the ground and burn it now. Make jobs so people can earn money, so they can buy more stuff and throw it out.

The Earth says what’s the hurry? Take your time building soils, forests, coral reefs, mountains. Take centuries or millennia. When any part wears out, don’t discard it, turn it into food for something else. If it takes hundreds of years to grow a forest, millions of years to compress oil, maybe that’s the rate at which they ought to be used.

Economics discounts the future. Two dollars ten years from now is worth only one dollar now, because you could invest that dollar at seven percent and double it in ten years. So a resource ten years from now is worth only half of what it’s worth now. Take it now. Turn it into dollars.

The Earth says: nonsense. Those invested dollars grow in value only if something worth buying grows too. The earth and its treasures will not double in ten years. What will you spend your doubled dollars on, if there is less soil, less oil, dirtier water, fewer creatures, less beauty? The earth’s rule is: give to the future. Lay up a fraction of an inch of topsoil each year. Give your all to nurture the young. Never take more in your generation than you give back to the next.

The economic rule is: do whatever makes sense in money terms.

The Earth says money measures nothing more than the relative power of some humans over other humans, and that power is puny, compared with the powers of the climate, the oceans, the uncounted multitudes of one-celled organisms that created the atmosphere, that recycle the waste, that have lasted for three billion years. The fact that the economy, which has lasted for maybe 200 years, puts zero value on these things means only that the economy knows nothing about value — or about lasting.

Economics says: worry, struggle, be dissatisfied. The permanent condition of humankind is scarcity. The only way out of scarcity is to accumulate and hoard, though that means, regrettably, that others will have less. Too bad, but there is not enough to go around.

The Earth says: rejoice! You have been born into a world of self-maintaining abundance and incredible beauty. Feel it, taste it, be amazed by it. If you stop your struggle and lift your eyes long enough to see Earth’s wonders, to play and dance with the glories around you, you will discover what you really need. It isn’t that much. There is enough. As long as you control your numbers, there will be enough for everyone and for as long as you can imagine.

We don’t get to choose which laws, those of the economy or those of the Earth, will ultimately prevail. We can choose which ones we will personally live under — and whether to make our economic laws consistent with planetary ones or to find out what happens if we don’t.

Youth Climate Corps Plants Pollinator Hedgerow

Adapted from a press release

Regeneration Corps, a youth service-learning program in agriculture and climate resilience, will work with close to 40 Woodstock students to plant a pollinator hedgerow at Cedar Mountain Farm.

Regeneration Corps is a learning collaboration between high school-aged students in Vermont and leading organizations that aims to empower youth in responding to climate change while building community resilience and strengthening local food systems. Partners in the Corps include Vital Communities, Building a Local Economy (BALE), Farm to Plate Network, Rural Vermont, and Change the World Kids.

The students in this project are part of the CRAFT (Community and Climate Resilience through Agriculture, Forestry, and Technology) program at Woodstock Union High School and Middle School.

The project will be done at Cedar Mountain Farm in Hartland and is funded by a grant from the Conservation Stewardship Program of the USDA’s Natural Resources Conservation Service. The grant calls for implementing agroforestry practices on a Vermont diversified dairy farm. The Conservation Stewardship Program is a great program that is underutilized in Vermont, Regeneration Corps states. The planting will involve plants from a list of 12 hedgerow species recommended for the site.