
Marble Valley Farm in Kent leases land from the Kent Land Trust at below-market rates. The model enabled owner Megan Haney to grow her vegetable operation in an otherwise harsh economic climate for Connecticut farmers.
Photo by Sarah Lang
Marble Valley Farm in Kent leases land from the Kent Land Trust at below-market rates. The model enabled owner Megan Haney to grow her vegetable operation in an otherwise harsh economic climate for Connecticut farmers.
In August, the USDA’s 2024 Land Values Summary reported that Connecticut has the third most expensive farm real estate in the country (tied with Massachusetts) at two times the northeast average for dollars per acre.
To Chelsea Gazillo, the senior New England policy manager for American Farmland Trust, these numbers reflect a “farmland access and succession crisis” that has impacted the state for “the last 15 years at least.”
While the value of farm real estate is on the rise across the U.S., up 5% from 2023, the trendline is particularly steep in Connecticut. In Litchfield County alone, the average estimated market value of farm land and buildings rose 28% between 2017 and 2022 according to a study by the USDA National Agricultural Statistics Service (NASS).
“Connecticut is a densely populated state and farmland is in high demand from both farmers and non-farmers,” said Rebecca Eddy, director of communications at the Connecticut Department of Agriculture (DOA), citing the competing pressures of investors and developers.
Farmland values are also reflective of broader trends in the real estate market.
“We’re still seeing ripple effects from the pandemic,” said Gazillo, noting that western Connecticut became an especially desirable region for buyers looking to leave nearby metropolitan areas during lockdowns.
As high demand inflates prices and increases development pressure, Connecticut is losing farmland at a striking rate.
American Farmland Trust ranked Connecticut among the top states in the country for farmland conversion to residential and urban uses; Litchfield County alone experienced a 10.5% loss in total cropland between 2017 and 2022.
Meanwhile, U.S. farmers are getting older. In 2022, there were four times more U.S. farmers over the age of 65 than under 35.
“In the next 20 years or so, we’re going to see a massive amount of land start changing hands,” said Gazillo.
The Working Lands Alliance (WLA), a statewide coalition currently directed by Gazillo, formed in 1999 to preserve Connecticut’s farmland against the threat of transition to development.
In Connecticut, where agriculture contributes a significant $4 billion to the economy each year, maintaining farmland and supporting farmers has been a concern of the state for decades.
DOA’s Farmland Preservation Program was one of the first of its kind when it debuted in 1978. The program places agricultural conservation easements on farmland by purchasing the development rights from farmers, providing a monetary incentive for farmers to preserve their land into perpetuity.
Ella Kennen, coordinator for the New Connecticut Farmer Alliance, noted that while these easements bar development, they don’t necessarily require that “farmland is being actively used as farmland.” Nor do they directly address the challenge of first-time land access for new and BIPOC farmers.
To meet these remaining needs, DOA formed the DEI in Agriculture Working Group in 2021. Based on a report produced by the group last summer, DOA applied for and won $2.5 million through the USDA Land Capital Market Access grant which Eddy says will be employed to “increase land access to historically underserved producers.”
The grant provides hope for future change. But for many small farmers, the state policies currently in place do not go far enough to realize their dreams of farm ownership and tenure.
“It’s been simply out of the question that I could own my own farmland,” said Megan Haney, owner and operator of Marble Valley Farm in Kent. “I know of no farmer who can afford real estate based solely on what they make farming.”
Haney has grown her 14-acre sustainable vegetable operation thanks to a below-market-value lease from the Kent Land Trust. She is one of many Connecticut farmers reliant on land trusts or wealthy sponsors as alternative access models.
For the farmers who could afford to purchase their first plots, recent real estate trends may eclipse their plans to grow.
“I was fortunate to purchase my land before the crazy COVID inflation hit,” said Kelley Babbin, owner and operator of Howling Flats Farm in Canaan. “These prices make it unattainable to purchase additional pasture or hay ground.”
While land access is critical to the future of local farming, the issue does not exist in a vacuum. Gazillo noted that many solutions are compounded by other pressures.
“Litchfield County has a lot of protected land, which is both a good and a bad thing,” she said. “Affordable housing groups are saying that if we continue to put easements on properties, then there’s no land to be developed for affordable housing.”
Meanwhile, for older farmers without easements, selling one’s farmland at full market value may be the only path to retirement. “That [land] is their pension,” said Gazillo.
As the issue of farmland tenure grows more pressing and more complex, new policy initiatives hope to meet multiple needs.
WLA has proposed OPAV (Option to Purchase at Agricultural Value), a policy which would compensate farmland owners for selling only to certain farmers or family members at an “agricultural value” below market value. OPAV policies have already been implemented in Vermont, Massachusetts and New York.
OPAV’s future is yet to be determined in Connecticut. As is the future of Connecticut’s remaining farmland.
To Gazillo, the future that Connecticut can count on is one in which local farmers are vital to the community.
“One thing that we learned from the pandemic is that our national food system is very fragile,” she said. “If there are any disruptions to the supply chain, we are dependent on local producers to survive. And as we see more climate-related disasters and weather-related disasters, it’s just going to become more and more of a necessity.”
Sharon Hospital
Connecticut’s Office of Health Strategy approved a merger between Northwell Health, a large New York-based health system, and Nuvance Health, which owns Danbury, Norwalk, Sharon and New Milford hospitals in Connecticut, as well as three hospitals in New York, according to a Tuesday announcement by the agency.
The two systems now have to complete the step of formally joining the entities together under the Northwell Health banner, a spokesperson for Nuvance Health said.
Northwell isn’t directly paying to buy the Nuvance Hospitals, per se, resulting in a technical purchase price of $0. Instead, the New York-based health system has agreed to invest $1 billion in Nuvance’s Connecticut and New York hospitals over the next five years, with annual reporting on the progress of those investments.
Those investments will go toward a number of capital projects and the implementation of a new electronic medical recordkeeping system, according to Boyd Jackson, director of legislation and regulation at OHS.
“No money is being transferred directly within the affiliation deal,” Jackson wrote in an emailed statement, explaining that, instead, “Northwell has made promises of capital investment.”
Nuvance Health has been struggling financially for some time, posting a $99 million deficit in fiscal year 2024, which executives chalked up to, among other factors, increasing costs and the aftereffects of the COVID-19 pandemic.
John Murphy, a physician and the chief executive officer of Nuvance Health, said the merger will help improve health care for the system’s patients.
“By joining forces with Northwell Health, we can strengthen and enhance our ability to meet the needs of patients across Connecticut and the Hudson Valley for generations to come,” Murphy said.
During a public hearing on the merger in November, Murphy said Nuvance’s financial challenges had reached a point where the system could no longer survive without the support of a parent company.
“Nuvance Health today finds itself at an inflection point, where continuing its current course threatens the long-term viability of our facilities and programs and the future of health care in Western Connecticut,” stated Murphy in pre-filed testimony for the November hearing. “We firmly believe the time has come to join a larger health system.”
The combined health system will have 28 hospitals, over 1,000 care sites and a network of 14,500 providers across New York and Connecticut, according to the statement from Nuvance.
The state’s approval hinges on certain conditions, laid out in an agreed settlement. These conditions include the $1 billion investment in Nuvance hospitals. The agreement also prohibits, for five years, any real estate sale-leaseback transactions, the type of deal that many critics say drained the resources from the Prospect Medical Holdings-owned Connecticut hospitals while enriching the health system’s private equity backers.
Northwell also reached an agreement in August with Attorney General William Tong to maintain labor and delivery services at Sharon Hospital for the next five years.
Northwell Health is the largest private employer in New York state, according to the company’s website, and owns 21 hospitals and 900 ambulatory sites. The health system does not currently own any hospitals outside of New York.
Health care consolidation — the trend of big health systems buying up hospitals — has been shown to lead to cuts in critical services, as well as higher prices. But the proposed merger with Northwell received significant public support.
During a hearing in November, several people from the hospitals’ surrounding communities expressed hope that Northwell could help strengthen the Connecticut hospitals. Those testifying included many Nuvance employees, as well as members of Save Sharon Hospital, a community group that has fought against service cuts at Sharon Hospital.
During the same hearing, Mark Solazzo, the chief operating officer at Northwell Health, said that the company intends to address financial challenges at Nuvance by, among other tactics, increasing staff retention, reducing reliance on outsourced contractors and driving down costs through collective purchasing.
“We have never closed a hospital, and we don’t intend to,” Solazzo said.
Katy Golvala is CT Mirror’s health reporter. This story was originally published by the CT Mirror.
To escape the cruelties of war, Katya finds solace in her imagination in “Sunflower Field”.
‘I can sum up the last year in three words: fear, love, hope,” said Oleksandr Hranyk, a Ukrainian school director in Kharkiv, in a February 2023 interview with the Associated Press. Fast forward to 2025, and not much has changed in his homeland. Even young children in Ukraine are echoing these same sentiments, as illustrated in two short films screened at The Moviehouse in Millerton on April 5, “Once Upon a Time in Ukraine” and “Sunflower Field.”
“Sunflower Field,” an animated short from Ukrainian filmmaker Polina Buchak, begins with a young girl, Katya, who embroiders as her world becomes unstitched with the progression of the war. To cope, Katya retreats into a vivid fantasy world, shielding herself from the brutal realities surrounding her life, all while desperately wanting her family to remain intact as she awaits a phone call from her father, one that may never come.
“Once Upon a Time in Ukraine,” a short documentary from directors Tetiana Khodakivska, Betsy West and Richard Blanshard, shares the stories of four children navigating war. Ivanna, a young girl in the Kherson region, reads from her a book as drawings of vegetables, which she has thoughtfully named, animatedly come to life on. As the film proceeds, Ivanna’s animated vegetables eventually go into defense mode against their Russian attackers.
Still from “Once Upon a Time in Ukraine” depicting a coffin designed for a child being lowered into the ground.Krista A. Briggs
Young Rusland from Moschun tells his story with an emotion not usually seen in school-age boys. He resides in a temporary home not far from his house, which was destroyed in a bombing. He speaks of time in the cellar, keeping busy canning food while his neighborhood was under attack. He misses his cat, Tima, another casualty of the conflict, and stays close to his dog throughout his time on camera while taking viewers on a tour of his neighbor’s former home, now a ruin from the devastation of the area. As Ruslan sadly observes, “It used to be a beauty.”
In Dnipro, eight year old Myroslava, likely a budding gymnast, is exhibiting her limberness. She speaks of formerly smooth roads in her hometown of Mariupol, which eventually caught fire. She explains, “Ukraine and Russia used to be friends until Russia got crazy.” Myroslava’s father has, in fact, perished in the conflict, but she remains in denial – or, as her mother explains, “She has gone into herself.” Myroslava finds comfort from multiple hugs from her mother, but continues to maintain her father is alive. “He will return,” she says. “He’s coming back.”
In Bucha, Maksym, 10, relates stories of explosions and bombings, as well as close encounters with missiles, which forced him and his family to evacuate. As with Myroslava, Maksym finds solace in his family, particularly his older brother. He can’t sleep in the dark and stays close to his favorite toy – a present from his mother. A pianist and a dancer, Maksym says, “I dream of peace so they don’t have to take up arms.”
Children are resilient, but the young people of Ukraine are clearly being tested to their emotional limits. When the internet cooperates, the children of war-torn Ukraine have, for the most part, been receiving educational instruction online for the past five years and despite their circumstances, are academically persevering with a strong academic focus on STEM and the arts.
But education, pets, toys and loving families are for those children who have not been killed since the war began. More than 2,000 young people have been injured or killed as a result of the conflict. Observed filmmaker Buchak, “We’re losing such a young generation now.”
The number of children who suffer from mental health challenges is much higher. Untold numbers of children are in need of psychological intervention. All of Ukraine’s children need to know the war is coming to an end, but until that day, they remain awake in a nightmare.
Anastasia Rab of Razom for Ukraine, a nonprofit advocacy organization, fields questions from the audience alongside filmmaker Polina Buchak. Anastasia and Polina are both Ukrainian natives now living and working in the United States.Krista A. Briggs
After the films, a Q&A featured Buchak, Anastasia Rab, chief advancement officer at the nonprofit, Razom for Ukraine, and Joshua Zeman, whose vocal talents were featured in the documentary, “Cropsey.”
“What’s going on in Ukraine is a travesty and truly undemocratic,” said Zeman, who reminded the audience that their participation in viewing these films is a form of protest against the Russian invasion, most appropriate on a day marked by protests by the Hands Off movement in support of American democracy.
Rab, whose organization supports a physically, politically and economically secure Ukraine, noted the trauma in young Ukrainians whose existence and identities are under attack. “This war is about erasing Ukraine,” said Rab, who pointed out another atrocity of war – the kidnapping, trafficking and forced illegal adoptions of young Ukrainians by Russian forces. In some instances, the young victims are “deprogrammed” by Russian forces and forced to fight against their own country – a war crime.
Despite the atrocities of war and its terrible consequences, Polina Buchak, while grounded firmly in the awful realities of the ongoing battle, remained optimistic for change. “My hope is for a peaceful sky over Ukraine without the fear of being invaded.”
Sam Tanenhaus, when speaking about William F. Buckley, Jr., said he was drawn to the man by the size of his personality, generosity and great temperament. That observation was among the reasons that led Tanenhaus to spend nearly 20 years working on his book, “Buckley: The Life and Revolution That Changed America,” which is due out in June. Buckley and his family had deep roots in Sharon, living in the house called Great Elm on South Main Street, which was built in 1812 and bought by Buckley’s father in 1923.
The author will give a talk on “The Buckleys of Sharon” at the Sharon Historical Society on Saturday, April 12, at 11 a.m. following the group’s annual meeting. The book has details on the family’s life in Sharon, which will, no doubt, be of interest to local residents.
Buckley, who came from a family of 10 children, including his brother Sen. James Buckley and his sister Priscilla Buckley, who were familiar faces in Sharon during their lifetimes, was a well-known conservative writer and political commentator.
“He was a true intellectual,” Tanenhaus said during a recent phone interview. “He would even talk to his dogs in that way.”
Buckley’s name was synonymous with the conservative movement back in the middle of the last century. He was the founder of the National Review magazine in 1955 and host of the public affairs television program, “Firing Line” that ran from 1966 to 1999. The key aspect of Buckley’s conservatism was a push against the tide of liberalism, said Tanenhaus. “It was more a negative than positive movement. He lived as a conservative, being highly patriotic, family-oriented and practicing civility and order.”
Tanenhaus said Bill Buckley was the first political writer/thinker to understand political controversy was really cultural controversy. When he was waging a cultural war, the stakes were about such things as the communists winning and Jim Crow.”
Tanenhaus relates his subject’s relationship with a variety of individuals, including the explosive encounters he had with writer Gore Vidal. “There are indications he had a large capacity and never held a grudge. He didn’t disparage Vidal as a writer and didn’t say he was a bad person. Nowadays that approach is really uncommon.”
Buckley was always interested in other people’s lives, including such figures as Huey Newton of the Black Panthers and Jesse Jackson, of whom he was very fond.
Tanenhaus spends time in the book delving into Buckley’s personality, noting he could talk with anyone and was always interested in those he met. “He wanted to maintain friendships. He never wanted politics to supersede relationships. He was just such an exciting person to be with.”
What he couldn’t tolerate, said Tanenhaus, was being bored. He enjoyed being in the company of others and was a great listener; not so great a talker. He was a great publicist and promoter of ideas and arguments.
Often asked what Buckley would think of today’s political scene, Tanenhaus said he really couldn’t say, but he said he did have lots to say about Donald Trump back in the 1990s. “He might say different things now. He never did have him on ‘Firing Line.’” They had one friend in common; attorney Roy Cohn.
Tanenhaus revealed his political leanings do not mirror those of Buckley’s, but took on the project to see how the world thinks of him.