This Place Is Magic

Integrating Food Access and Preventive Care at The Farm at Trinity Health Ann Arbor

Loren Sanders, the Food Program Coordinator at The Farm at Trinity Health Ann Arbor, knows that the problems of food access and health are systemic, and that dealing with hospital bureaucracy and insurance can make patients feel uncared for. But one of her main goals is “to make at least one patient’s experience better, and to show them that the hospital really does care about each patient.” She emphasized that the hospital, which was founded by the Sisters of Mercy, genuinely aims to care for the poor, and that anyone can come and receive services, regardless of insurance coverage. Although she hates the cliche, she says that the farm truly is magic – that there is magic both in having this massive green space in the middle of the city, and magic in being able to tell anyone who comes to the farm “yes you can”– whether it’s picking a vegetable, walking around the green spaces, or taking food from the food pantry.

The farm itself is five fenced-in acres, with 1.2 acres in production, including four hoop houses (one of which is the nation’s first accessible hoop house) and a propagation house, but the work of the seven full-time farm staff extends far beyond that acreage. They also maintain the rest of the green space of the Trinity Health campus – an impressive 340 acres, making it one of the largest green spaces in Washtenaw County. They have been maintaining the trails, installing improved signage, and collaborating with the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation and the Huron River Watershed Council to enhance the green space for the benefit of all community members.

The farm has a flower garden, which was started around 2017 by a hospital staff member who wanted to grow flowers for patient bouquets. Since then, the flower garden has expanded, and the staff can bring 50 bouquets a week to the nurses' station in the hospital, which the nurses then distribute to their patients. Flowers aren’t just pretty – there is evidence that patients with flowers or plants in their room experience better health outcomes, such as lower blood pressure, less pain, and less anxiety.

The majority of what the farm grows on-site goes to their farm stand in the hospital lobby, where hospital staff can shop during their lunch breaks. Anything which goes unsold at the farm stand is then passed on to the Patients and Providers Program, a donation-based program which serves food pantries such as EMU’s Swoops Food Pantry, the Hope Clinic Food Program, and the Packard Health Fresh-a-Sprout FREE Fresh Food Markets.

The farm share program at the Farm at Trinity Health Ann Arbor is an aggregate CSA program, meaning that while some of the produce is grown on the farm, most of the produce is sourced from other local farms. This expands the range of available produce in the boxes and also means that, rather than focusing on being a production farm, they can use their own space to focus on health education. The Farm at Trinity Health Ann Arbor works with its partner farms during the winter to plan the following season’s crops, providing the smaller farms with a guaranteed buyer and the ability to build up their capacity.

The CSA currently serves 500 members, 400 of whom receive their boxes at no cost. The farm would love to be able to provide more boxes, but they’re currently limited by the practical constraints of their fridge size. The subsidized boxes go to Meals on Wheels clients (older adults who are homebound and unable to prepare meals for themselves), participants in the Ypsilanti Family Empowerment Program (which helps to improve the health and wellness of families living in Ypsilanti Housing Commission complexes), and various University of Michigan programs. These organizations pick up the CSA boxes from the farm and deliver them directly to their clients.

In addition to the CSA program, the farm also operates a food pantry, which is open to all and serves about 120 community members a week. They partner with Food Gatherers to provide the community with access to pantry staples in addition to fresh vegetables, eliminating the need for people to visit both the farm and separate food pantries. The farm uses their internal budget to purchase staples like eggs and milk (which, before federal cuts, they received for free from the USDA), receives rescued food like milk, eggs, bread, fruits, and vegetables from Food Gatherers, and orders non-perishables like dried or canned beans, cereals, rice, nut butters, and sometimes treats like Nutri-Grain Bars. In the hospital pantry, they focus on stocking easy-access things like pop-top soups, easy mac, and microwavable rice. Food Gatherers has had a 15% cut in federal funding, so the farm is currently waiting to see what the future will hold for their ability to continue to provide this level of food access.

The farm currently takes SNAP at the farm stand, and they offer SNAP boxes for $7.50 during Wednesday community distribution days. The Wednesday community distribution times are also times for community – Loren says that many people show up early with their coffees just to hang out, talk to each other, and enjoy the space. This is also when a representative from the SNAP-Ed program Healthy Habits Starts Now comes to the farm and provides recipes, samples, and tastings for community members. The Healthy Habits has been running for 8-12 weeks every summer, but unfortunately, the last day for the program is this August 13th; federal SNAP-Ed funding was eliminated by the recent “Big Beautiful Bill.”

The federal cuts to SNAP and SNAP-Ed funding will impact the operations of the farm (in ways yet to be determined). Still, beginning in January, the farm plans to start accepting “in lieu of services” (ILOS) reimbursements from Medicaid for qualified community members, which should hopefully offset some of the food costs for community members most in need of nutritious food. According to the Michigan Department of Health and Human Services, ILOS are services the state deems to be medically appropriate and cost-effective when provided as substitutes for other Medicaid-covered services. The ILOS program is an example of preventative healthcare at work – the goal is to improve health and reduce the future need for medical services by reducing food insecurity and ensuring enrollees have access to nutritious foods.

Loren is hopeful that the ILOS program will open them up to different types of grants and relationships with integrated research with the hospital. There is the potential for doing medically tailored boxes for conditions like diabetes or boxes tailored for prenatal and postpartum nutrition, and conducting research on the efficacy of the boxes as a form of health intervention. She would also really love for the farm to be able to move towards providing pre-made meals, though this would require them to get additional food licensing.

For now, the farm remains an oasis in the middle of the city, with Trinity Health outpatients receiving physical therapy and tending the raised beds in the accessible hoophouse, CSA members enjoying the rain gardens and picking herbs from the beds near the food pantry, kids coming to the farm to learn about the importance of fruits and vegetables and enjoy the green spaces, and current and retired Trinity Health staff tending their designated community garden. The tightening of federal and state budgets will require innovation to continue providing these benefits to the community. Still, hopefully, The Farm at Trinity Health Ann Arbor will remain a magical place for many years to come.

This post is part of a series by Emma Rose Hardy, a PhD Candidate at the University of Michigan and the Rackham Local Food Systems Intern at Growing Hope. The series aims to highlight the essential role that SNAP and other food assistance programs play in the Washtenaw County local food system.

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Food is A Right and Community is Medicine

By Julius Buzzard • May 1, 2026

Beloved community, May has arrived, and Southeast Michigan has exhaled into spring. As seedlings begin to sprout and Mother Earth does her thing, After a long winter of waiting, there is something deep inside each of us that leans toward the light. And I think it’s crucial that we lean into that light after so much darkness. That we lean into what it means to reach towards what we need and deserve, not simply an act of grace, but as a right of every living organism. This spring, I want to lean into the right to food. Sometimes, the most radical ideas are also the simplest. The right to food means every person, regardless of zip code, income, skin color, or the circumstances of their birth, has the inherent right to access sufficient, safe, nutritious, and culturally appropriate food. And it doesn’t start at the dinner table. It incorporates the farmer who needs land to grow, the farmworker who deserves a living wage, and the maker who wants to build the food business of their ancestors' dreams. The right to food means that spaces such as the Ypsilanti Farmers MarketPlace and Growing Hope Urban Farm are part of community infrastructure. The right to food is a whole-systems claim that urges us to stop seeing hunger as a distribution issue and instead recognize it as an issue of who is invited to the table. This is not a novel idea. The right to food has been recognized in international law since 1948, when the Universal Declaration of Human Rights enshrined it as part of every person's right to an adequate standard of living. It was further codified in the 1966 International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights, which is legally binding for 172 countries. Notably, our country has been missing from that list. While enough food is produced to feed everyone, and still, up to 720 million people experience hunger, and 2.6 billion cannot afford a healthy diet. Today, one in seven residents in Washtenaw County questions where their next meal will come from. This represents a failure of will, not imagination. It’s the result of systems that treat food as a commodity rather than a birthright. But we don’t have to accept that as the finish line. There are multiple states and communities within our country that have codified the right to food, and we’d love for you to join us in advancing and declaring this right in our community. By treating food insecurity as a rights violation rather than a personal failing, we shift the policy debate from political aspiration to human obligation. It’s this shift, from charity to solidarity, that lines the foundation of Growing Hope’s work. Just a few days ago, we sent a group of staff, partners, and volunteers to Lansing to walk through the doors of power and speak with honesty and humility. We talked about what the right to food means on the ground. We talked about what we believe Michigan can do. We advocated for systems that uphold the right to food for every aspect of the food system. Importantly, we left knowing that we are not alone in this. Across the country, community organizers are rallying around this core principle. As one organizer stated, “We need to state the obvious right now, because the systems we relied on are being eroded very actively." We are not growing gardens. We are growing self-determination. We are growing community. We are Growing Hope. I said at the beginning that food is a right, and I believe that with everything in me. Unfortunately, rights don't enforce themselves. They require community to join together, to ensure accountability, and to be a continual reminder of what we are committed to. This is the community we are building. We invest and believe so deeply in this viewpoint for one simple reason, which feels more true now than ever before: community is medicine. Together we share some ailments, but our collective resources are innumerable. And while we don’t know where we’ll end up on the other side of the change and chaos swirling around us, we can be certain that we’ll arrive together. Proximity and hope are foundational building blocks for a community of healing. This is the type of community that demands systems of care that uphold our basic human rights, while sharing its resources to meet our collective needs. Together, we are growing food. We are gathering. We are ensuring the right to food. And we are healing one another through community. We are watching the systems we have long depended on fray at the edges in real time. We are responding, in unison, saying: we are not waiting for permission to be fed. That is the work. Thank you for being part of it. In solidarity, Julius P.S. The right to food is more than a principle. It's a promise we make to one another. You can read our Right to Food Declaration, add your name, and share your story (with a chance to win a $50 gift card) at growinghope.net/righttofood .

Mother Earth is Asking Us to be Present

By Julius Buzzard • April 1, 2026

Beloved community, April arrives the way it always does in Michigan; tentatively at first, then all at once. One morning, the ground is still stubborn and cold, and the next, something is pushing through. We call it Earth Month, but Mother Earth does not need a month. Mother Earth is always working. What Earth Month does, at its best, is return us to attention; to the slow, faithful labor happening beneath our feet, whether we notice or not. This month, I want to talk about that labor. Not just the labor of growing food, but the labor of staying whole while doing this work. The labor of belonging to one another. The labor of grief. Food sovereignty has never been only about food. It has always been about the conditions under which people live; who controls the land, who decides what is grown and for whom, whose hands are trusted to tend it, and whose labor is rendered invisible in the process. When we plant together, across our differences, we practice a different way of being in relationship with the earth and with each other. We are rehearsing the world we are trying to build. This is food sovereignty at its fullest: not a policy framework alone, but a practice of restoration. Of the land, yes. But also of people. Of community. Of self. Earth Month, then, is not just a celebration of the natural world. It is an invitation to remember that we are part of it; that the health of our soil and the health of our souls are not separate questions. This spring, I am carrying something heavier than usual. And I suspect many of you are too. Our community lost Melvin Parson. And that loss has settled into me like the coming of spring here in Michigan: quietly, then suddenly, everywhere. Melvin was a farmer, a visionary, and a neighbor. Through We The People Opportunity Farm, he built real pathways of belonging and dignity. He understood that food sovereignty is not only about growing food; it is about restoring people to possibility. Melvin planted seeds that will outlive all of us. In the soil and in the lives he helped rebuild. Rest in power, Melvin. We will keep tending what you planted. But grief does not arrive alone. And I think we need to name that. Something has been accumulating in many of us. The anxiety of not knowing whether your rent will hold, whether the program keeping your mother's medication affordable will survive the next budget cycle, whether the news tomorrow brings another cut, another threat, another loss. The weight of watching war unfold on a screen while packing your child's lunch. The low hum of uncertainty has grown so constant that many of us have stopped recognizing it as something being done to us. Mental health in our communities is rarely one dramatic moment. It is the slow erosion of the conditions that makes life feel possible. And right now, those conditions are under pressure from every direction. We are not imagining it. It is real. And it deserves to be named. I do not want to move past this moment too quickly, because I think it is asking something of us. Those of us who work in food systems, in community organizing, in the daily labor of trying to repair what has been broken, we carry a particular weight. The need is constant. The resources are not. The work is relational, which means every loss is personal. Every family facing hunger has a name. Every policy that fails our community lands in someone's body. We are not separate from the communities we serve. We are one of them. And that means the strains of this moment: economic precarity, political hostility, grief, isolation, and the relentless demand to do more with less all live within us. I have been thinking about what it means to tend ourselves the way Mother Earth tends herself. To acknowledge that fallow seasons are not failures. That rest is not retreat. That asking for help is not a weakness, but the most honest form of community care. Mother Earth is not asking us to be strong; she’s asking us to be present. This April, I am inviting Growing Hope's community into that same practice. Tend your plot, yes, but also tend your people. Check on your neighbors. Come to the farm not just to grow food, but to be held by the community. Let the soil remind you that transformation is slow, and real, and worth it. We are in this together. And together is the only way through. In solidarity, Julius P.S. If this month is weighing on you, you don't have to carry it alone. The NAMI HelpLine offers free, confidential one-on-one support, mental health information, and resources — available Monday through Friday, 10am–10pm ET. Call 1-800-950-NAMI (6264) or text NAMI to 62640. And if you need a reason to get outside and be with people, join us on April 11, 10am–1pm for our Spring Seedling Distribution.

Downtown Ypsi Deserves This

By Julius Buzzard • March 27, 2026

Beloved community, Last season, organizers of all sizes hosted 168 events at the Ypsilanti Farmers MarketPlace, from mutual aid distributions and cultural gatherings to health outreach and food policy conversations. These moments reflect how we steward shared resources to maximize good and meet multiple community needs at once. At the heart of it all is the Ypsilanti Farmers Market itself. If you’ve spent any time at the market, you know that it’s never just been a place to shop. It’s a place to linger. To listen. To organize. To feed one another, body and spirit. Together, we are building a food ecosystem where everyone has access to fresh produce and where advocacy, mutual aid, and belonging intersect. That was especially clear this year when our community faced a sudden gap in food access. When early federal funding shifts threatened nutrition dollars, our community didn’t wait. Together, we rapidly designed and launched the Ypsi SNAP Gap Program, a locally powered response that ensured hundreds of local families could continue to access food. As we move through spring, your support sustains this work; keeping vendor fees low, strengthening food access programs, and maintaining the MarketPlace as a space for belonging. Every gift sustains a place to live, organize, and nourish one another. With deep gratitude, Julius Buzzard Executive Director P.S. Your early spring support ensures we’re ready to respond when our community needs it most.

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