Listening, Learning and Connecting the Dots on the Farm in South Greenland
Arriving at a Familiar Place
After twenty-four hours of traveling, my plane touched down on the edge of the fjord. I had just flown over the second-largest ice sheet in the world, taking it in with wonder, knowing it was transforming before my eyes. I set foot on the ground and was greeted by the rest of the research team before we made our way to the dock to sail across the fjord for the last leg of my journey.
I was, once again, in South Greenland, home to generations of sheep farmers and a magnificent landscape of teal-hued water shadowed by glaciers and snow-covered mountains. The air was cool, but the evening sun still offered warmth. Baaing of sheep echoed across the hills. I savored the panoramic view of green fields and colorful buildings as I walked the gravel road from the dock. Although the journey was long and the landscape felt worlds away, I was not that far from my home in Maine, Greenland’s North Atlantic neighbor to the south.
I settled into the guest house that our team would call “home” for two weeks. I was familiar with this life. Of rural communities and remote environments. Of hard work and long days. Of lending a hand to neighbors in need. Of dinners with extended family and celebrations with the community. Where challenges persist, yet nature connects. These familiarities resurfaced as I recalled my childhood growing up on a farm. This was similar in so many ways, despite being in a different decade, country, culture, and climate.
Listening, Learning, and Unexpected Routines
As the days unfolded and our research team got to work, I embraced the opportunity to listen and learn while respecting this incredible place and its hardworking people. I welcomed conversations and honored the stories that were shared and the relationships that were nurtured. I appreciated time immersed in nature trekking through the rugged terrain alone and with our host, Ellen, a resident expert in the plants and vegetation scattered across the hills. I enjoyed sailing to a glacier, exploring historic sites, connecting with residents, supporting local businesses, and dining on traditional Greenlandic cuisine. It was immersive learning in many forms.
I am grateful for these opportunities and experiences. But there is one simple, unexpected routine that stood out as being especially meaningful…helping bottle feed the orphan lambs. From rounding up the herd (which was quite entertaining when farmer Carl wasn’t around-they listened much better to him!), to heating the water, mixing the formula, and making sure each lamb got their share, I found joy in the process.
As I spent time each day with these curious little beings, I watched them grow bigger, get stronger, and become more confident. Reflecting on this experience, I realized these lambs were not the only ones who evolved during those two weeks. I did, too. Living on the farm and tending to this task created space for me to reflect on my childhood from a new perspective. I began to realize my days on the farm provided some of my first experiences with teamwork and self-leadership, persistence and determination, environmental change and sustainability, entrepreneurship and community support, and creativity and resilience-all areas I am studying now.
Connecting the Dots
I sat with these insights, connecting the dots from being a child on a farm in the Midwestern United States to being a Ph.D. student and researcher in Greenland. I noticed how far I had come, yet how close I felt to that little girl doing chores on her family’s farm. The experience was humbling, providing newfound appreciation not only for the people and the place that taught me so much long ago but also for the people and place in which I was currently absorbed.
In Greenland and at home in Maine, I am surrounded by hardworking people who love where they live. And I am continuously reminded of the interconnectedness of people and place. In both communities, I have heard story after story of appreciation for nature, an appreciation so deep that it makes the challenges of creating a livelihood in these environments easier to confront. This time spent in Greenland reminded me that places form people and people form places. Looking at them separately only offers part of a complex narrative.
I eventually bid farewell to those feisty little lambs, returning home to Maine with new insights and fresh perspectives. I am grateful for my personal and professional development on this trip and for my growing relationship with our neighbors to the North. I look forward to journeying onward, listening, learning, and connecting the dots as I continue exploring how people and places thrive…together.