Agritopia: Blending Farm Life with Suburban Living

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    In the heart of suburban Gilbert, Arizona, Kelly Saxer tends to a rather unconventional scene. The picturesque neighborhood of neat lawns and Spanish-style architecture offers a different kind of spectacle: an 11-acre organic farm nestled within. As Saxer moves through the rows of vegetables, she often finds herself fielding curious inquiries from onlookers intrigued by the farm’s existence in this suburban setting.

    “It sometimes feels like we’re animals in a zoo,” Saxer humorously remarked, referring to the people who pause to watch her work.

    This is Agritopia, characterized as an “agrihood”—a community thoughtfully designed around a working farm. Originating from the landscape once sprawling with alfalfa and various crops, it now emphasizes sustainable living amidst the urban sprawl of the Phoenix metro area. Children play near school-adjacent vegetable patches, laughing couples grab photos, and the local diner draws enthusiasts following its recognition on popular food shows.

    Over the last few decades, developers have embraced the agrihood model as a novel lifestyle offering, unique amid conventional residential developments. The Urban Land Institute noticed a rise in such communities across North America, blending country charm with urban convenience. These enclaves are particularly appealing to those mindful of sustainability, eager for communal connectivity, and drawn to easy access to fresh produce.

    Agritopia was born from foresight in the late 90s when the Johnston family decided to proactively shape the future of their land amidst Phoenix’s rapid growth. Rather than surrender to impending urbanization, they reimagined their family farm into a space harmonizing living and agriculture. Joe Johnston, relying on his engineering background, crafted a community around a vibrant core—the farm itself. Relaxed pathways connect cozy homes with nearby eateries, shops, and parks, creating a village-like atmosphere.

    Melissa Checker, an environmental gentrification scholar, explains that agrihoods resonate with varied motivations: an idealistic step towards sustainability, nostalgic nods to simpler times, and the communal connections that have become a priority post-pandemic.

    However, Checker observes that the idyllic promise of these communities often doesn’t extend to food-insecure populations. Agrihoods tend to emerge in wealthier areas, influenced by real estate dynamics aimed at maximizing returns for developers. This underscores a paradox in their design—aimed at fostering positive change, yet not always inclusive.

    Despite the farm’s symbolic presence, it remains an optional pursuit for most residents. At Agritopia, only a minority of homeowners engage actively with the agricultural offerings, whether through produce boxes or the opportunity to cultivate personal plots.

    Joe Johnston acknowledges that while not everyone shares a passion for farming, the community’s true essence lies in shared spaces where residents decide their level of participation.

    Farms stand as appealing features for developers across the Sun Belt, eager to attract homeowners with a spectrum of facilities from swimming pools to walking trails. Scott Snodgrass, engaging with agrihood projects, sees this as a competitive advantage.

    Agritopia’s farm workers start their day early, attuned to the rhythms of plant growth and harvest. Ernesto Penalba, having learned much about the processes entailed in working with crops like garlic, appreciates the deeper understanding of agriculture that his role has fostered. For CC Garrett, who educates young visitors, facilitating these curious encounters with food production is deeply rewarding.

    For some, living in Agritopia transcends the conventional neighborhood experience. In a cluster aptly named the “kid pod,” families with numerous children have crafted a community within a community, underpinned by trust and mutual oversight. Nearby orchards provide a fragrant backdrop to this cooperative lifestyle.

    Maria Padron, a resident, cherishes the tight-knit rapport with her neighbors, drawing comfort from such familiarity. She reflects on her family’s past farmland in Virginia, which was transformed into a vineyard, pondering what it would have been like had it evolved into an agrihood.

    “There’s something beautiful yet bittersweet here—watching land transform, it’s layered with nostalgia,” Padron shares, acknowledging both the promise and the loss inherent in change.