A More Holistic Harvest: Combining Permaculture, Food Security, and Social Well-being

This is not the first time I’ve written about Muhammad Ayub and what he’s doing at Dancing Goats and Singing Chickens Organic Farm. It’s not the second time, either. It’s the third.

I know what you’re thinking: “Third time’s a charm, eh?” or, “This food nut’s obsessed,” or, “What is going on out there that warrants three articles?” 

Glad you asked.

I first met Muhammad as a partner with Experience Olympia & Beyond—my day job and the catalyst for so many great story ideas. Thanks to our CEO’s mad grant-writing skills, we were awarded a $35,000 grant by the State of Washington Tourism to highlight our county’s evolving local food movement—a project I called Harvesting Resilience. Given his propensity for permaculture and regenerative farming, I felt Muhammad’s farm would be the perfect farm to feature.

Quick Harvesting Resilience recap if you’ve not been following my endeavors lately: The Harvesting Resilience project was a way for Experience Olympia & Beyond to highlight the growing collaboration between local growers—farmers and ranchers— and local makers—chefs, restaurants, food industry folks—to potential visitors to Thurston County; that stretch of I-5 between Portland and Seattle tends to be overshadowed by those two culinary hot spots, even though growers in Thurston County contribute to their food scenes. 

Our production crew showed up at Dancing Goats and Singing Chickens this past July to shoot content for the project but it was a bit of a struggle keeping up with Muhammad. No sooner than we got him staged to show off his new greenhouse, stuffed to the gills with a variety of squash and baby chicks playing hide and seek among the dense foliage, then he was running off apologetically so he could relay instructions to a volunteer or quickly greet a visitor on the lookout for fresh produce or raw honey. 

It’s hard to pin Muhammad down, but it’s understandable. By day he’s a family practitioner at the Joint Base Lewis-McChord military base just north of Lacey, Washington. Every other waking moment he’s growing Dancing Goats and Singing Chickens into something so special, it’s hard to define.

Yes, Muhammad is a farmer, and a damn good one (it’s taken him a long time, but his topsoil health—the true lifeblood of a productive farm— is unprecedented), but more than that, he’s a community builder. As a first-generation farmer starting a farm later in life, he recognized he needed help and reached out for it on social media. He soon had people dropping off recyclables and compostable materials who wanted to know how else they could help.

I think it’s in most people’s nature to be helpful. It’s certainly Muhammad’s true nature and he can’t help but infect others with his desire to help people lead better lives. It’s likely what led to a large group of recipients of his care defending him when he was faced with large fines from the county for composting without a license. Before you grab your pitchforks and rope, understand the state of Washington simply wants to regulate composting facilities to ensure they operate safely and environmentally responsibly, preventing potential issues like odor, contamination, and negative impacts on water quality that could arise from poorly managed compost operations. 

Fifty-nine people showed up at the Thurston County Commissioner’s Office to testify on his behalf after he received an order to take 2,800 cubic yards of hügelkultur (raised beds of organic matter he was counting on to make topsoil gold) to the dump. The result was a letter of compliance, but also a $50,000 grant from the Thurston Conservation District to build a composter that met county guidelines. 

What is it about Muhammad, a compassionate pied piper, that inspires people to advocate for one another in such a giving way? 

I wondered about this as Muhammad gave us his standard farm tour, introducing us to each volunteer we met along the way and sharing how they’d discovered DG&SC, and what led to them to contribute to the community-building efforts he was so passionate about. As I cuddled a baby goat and silently conceived how I could sneak it home to Jen’s farm, I realized he was doing more than growing good food. He was cultivating a community, and I wanted in on it.

Two weeks later I sat down with him and his wife Lizzie in their kitchen to talk about their unique vision. 

“We have a poverty in plenty problem,” said Ayub as Lizzie, a clinical social worker (who also works at Lewis-McChord), bottled up raspberry-cilantro vinaigrette to send home with me, tucking it into a bag next to printouts of the research she’s amassed on care farming. 

“Even though there’s a lot of food available, it’s all trash and junk, full of chemicals, insecticides, and pesticides. We now have proof of chemical carcinogens in our food systems. Microplastics are showing up in my patients’ blood samples. Microplastics!”

Disillusioned with the modern food system's impact on his health and the health of his patients, Muhammad took action the only way he knew how. With a keen interest in gardening and small-scale farming, the idea of self-sufficiency and healthy food production began in his childhood with memories of his grandparents harvesting fresh sugarcane and gathering fresh cilantro for dinner from their garden in India. 

Muhammad wanted to produce healthier food on a much larger scale for people who struggled to access it. In 2007 he and Lizzie bought a piece of land at auction in Yelm, Washinton near the Nisqually Indian Reservation, and established Dancing Goats and Singing Chickens Organic Farm. They sell (and give away) organic herbs, tomatoes, squash, berries, and rhubarb as well as chestnut, peach, plum, cherry, apple, apricot, and hazelnut trees and blueberry bushes. If you’re ready to own a flock of chickens or raise goats, Muhammad’s got you covered there, too.

Working full-time jobs, Muhammad and Lizzie have amassed a rather extensive network of workers (some volunteer, some paid) who help them with day-to-day operations. In the past six years, they’ve helped to educate and train over 120 people who have experienced marginalization: women, people identifying as non-binary, veterans, and people coming out of incarceration. In February of 2024, they were awarded Slow Food of Greater Olympia’s Snail of Approval award for their commitment to social responsibility and regenerative agriculture with an emphasis on permaculture and organic methods.

Accessibility and social responsibility lie at the heart of Muhammad and Lizzie's farming model, and while they’re not yet officially a Care Farm (they’re working on the application process with the Care Farming Network), they are care farming in the same way an organic farm is “theoretically organic” even when they’re not legally certified. People are benefiting from the social care they’re providing. Most importantly, they wanted good food to be accessible to everyone – not just people who could afford it, so they partnered with a gleaning program where people come out to harvest for local food banks, collecting leftover fruit and vegetables that would otherwise go to waste. 

You see where I’m headed with this. The idea of “social care” was already a big part of their business model before they even considered slapping the label of care farming on it.

From the start, Muhammad and Lizzie have manifested their love of permaculture, utilizing a holistic approach to create sustainable and self-sufficient ecosystems that meet their community’s needs while minimizing their environmental impact. 

Their passion for regenerative agriculture, along with the desire to help people heal by providing access to healthier food, created the opportunity to produce more than just an organic product. While they were seeing the benefits of healing people physically through better and more attainable food, their commitment to community health and well-being began bleeding over into social care. 

“Social has always been a part of why we exist,” says Lizzie, who works on the opposite side of the campus from her husband at Joint Base Lewis-McChord. “I started thinking, ‘I’m a clinical social worker – how can I contribute to our farm in a way that aligns with my professional values and utilizes my skills as a clinical social worker?” Wanting to see people benefit from the farm both physically and therapeutically, she did a deep dive into researching care farming in Scotland and Ireland which affirmed the synergy between permaculture and social work. “I knew we could help the entire person if we blended those two efforts.”

“What we’re doing now is informally therapeutic,” shares Lizzie. What exactly does that look like? Currently, it means providing an autism support group, serving people struggling with addiction by pointing them to community services, and holding AA and NA meetings on the farm. This summer they introduced Yoga On the Farm, providing a space for instructors to guide anyone and everyone who wants to improve their flexibility, preserve energy, and learn to rest and enjoy life a space to do so. 

With limited time and resources, it makes sense for them to come at this addition to their farm strategically. They’re already employing people on the farm who were recently incarcerated, coming from halfway houses after treatment, veterans suffering from PTSD, and non-binary people who don’t feel comfortable on a more traditional farm because they feel judged. They want the farm to be a safe space for people with no prejudice or bias against them. 

“We don’t care if you’re a sparkly rainbow with Zebra ears. We just want you to get some personal benefit and find value in your life,” Lizzie said. “We hope being here you’ll discover your core values and learn how to live them.” 

*If you live in the region and are looking for ways to reconnect with the land or contribute to the work Muhammad and Lizzie are doing at the farm, please reach out to them on their website, and don’t forget to follow them on social media.