Growing Joy
BY: James Whitman
By midmorning, crates of greens are already stacking up near the wash station of Red Wiggler Care Farm. A line of growers moves steadily down a row, hands practiced, eyes trained on what’s ready for harvest and what needs another day. Someone calls out a question about bunch sizes. Someone else laughs. The work continues.
Enrique Blanco Jr. pulls a carrot from the ground, brushes off the soil, and sets it gently onto a wooden farm cart. He is one of 18 professional growers working at Red Wiggler this season, part of the farm’s long commitment to meaningful training and jobs for adults with developmental disabilities.
This is what farming looks like here—productive, vibrant, and unmistakably joyful.
Now in its 30th year, Red Wiggler is often described through its mission. But what you notice first is not a program but a working organic farm. The people harvesting, washing, packing, and coordinating volunteers are skilled agricultural workers whose labor feeds hundreds of families across the region.
“One of the most important things you can do is feed people,” one grower says. “That makes me proud.”
For many families, that pride is coupled with urgency. Parents of people with disabilities often hold persistent questions: “What happens when our children graduate from school? What happens when we’re no longer here to help?” Public agencies can offer services, but long-term, stable employment—work that is independent and meaningful—is rare.
Red Wiggler answers that question with daily practice.
Some growers have worked here for decades. Others arrive just out of high school, learning to read the weather, harvest efficiently, and work within a team. Roles shift with the season—fieldwork, greenhouse care, wash station, tours, and CSA (community-supported agriculture) packing—allowing growers to discover strengths.
“I like pulling weeds and harvesting,” Enrique says. “I’m good at this.”
Enrique first visited on a middle school field trip. He returned as a volunteer during high school and college—sometimes traveling hours by bus—before interviewing for a staff role.
“At first I had no idea what was a plant or a weed,” he says laughing. “Now, right away, I know what’s what.”
That movement from uncertainty to mastery is intentional. Tasks are clearly structured, and growers help train corporate volunteers such skills as how to safely use a long, sharp blade to harvest cabbages without cutting a finger. Teaching reinforces expertise. It is capability made visible.
One of the volunteer and education leaders, Charley Schwartz, began at the farm as a volunteer, drawn by “the grounding effect of being in nature—and helping people earn meaningful wages.” Today, he leads orientations and tours alongside growers who explain their work to visitors.
Public speaking is part of that growth. Enrique recently spoke on a panel at the annual National Care Farming Conference in Gaithersburg, Maryland.
“At first, I felt the jitters,” he says. “But when I got up, everything went away. I felt calm.”
Red Wiggler does not lower expectations but rather adjusts pace, provides structure, and insists on real contribution: Differing abilities appear here not as limitations, but as part of the working world—visible, capable, productive.
All this builds self-sufficiency. Growers earn wages, develop communication skills, experience belonging, and imagine futures shaped by choice—advancement, independence, family. “People with disabilities… need you to be patient with us,” one grower says, adding firmly: “But we can do things.”
The work is demanding. Summer heat presses down. Autumn rain chills the harvest. Winter shifts labor to planning and data entry. The weekly rhythm expands gradually—two days, then three, eventually six at peak.
“We don’t want to burn anyone out,” Schwartz says.
Within that rhythm, joy surfaces—in shared jokes, a perfectly packed CSA box, the pride of leading a tour.
Pickup days carry special energy. CSA members arrive. Children wander toward the fields, curious about carrots in real soil. Growers answer questions and explain how the weather shaped the harvest. Knowing your farmer, it turns out, means recognizing their humanity.
Founded in 1996 by Woody Woodruff, the farm grew from a simple insight: People with disabilities wanted meaningful work, and communities needed good food. Three decades later, it has become a national model for inclusive agriculture.
Red Wiggler leases 13 acres from Montgomery County Parks. About half the harvest goes to paying CSA members; the rest is donated to partners, including MANNA Food Center, AfriThrive, and Community Food Rescue—extending the farm’s reach far beyond its rows.
Like the red wigglers—compost worms quietly building healthy soil beneath the surface—the work here is constant and nourishing. As morning winds down, crates are loaded and tools returned to the shed. Tomorrow, the growers will be back to tend the rows. And in that daily act—productive, joyful, deeply human—they continue proving what they have always known: With patience, opportunity, and real work, we can all live capable, purposeful lives. We can do things.
