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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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.

Nutrition and the Right to Thrive

By Julius Buzzard • February 26, 2026

Beloved community, March is National Nutrition Month, and across the country, we’re told to read labels more closely, count nutrients more carefully, and “eat real foods.” But nutrition is not a trend cycle; it is a question of power. I invite you to join me in curiosity and ask: Who has access to what’s being recommended? Who can afford the “real” food being celebrated? Who grows it, and who gets paid? Are we treating illness, or are we transforming the conditions that produce it? Health outcomes matter, but health equity goes further. Health equity asks why certain neighborhoods have higher rates of diabetes in the first place. It asks why fresh food feels exceptional in some zip codes and ordinary in others. It asks why farmers struggle to survive while healthcare systems expand. If we do not address land access, procurement policy, and economic extraction, then “eat real” risks becoming a quiet moral judgment instead of a structural commitment. Michigan once modeled real structural commitment through 10 Cents a Meal for Michigan's Kids & Farms ; matching school dollars to buy Michigan-grown produce and making local food standard in cafeterias. It strengthened children’s health, stabilized farmers, and shifted institutional purchasing habits. This year, the program was not funded. And as a result, students miss the chance to build lifelong food memories rooted close to home. And still, we are not retreating. Together, we are building a foundation of generational health. Generational health is the long game. It is the work of ensuring that today’s third grader doesn’t just eat a fresh apple; but grows up expecting apples from Michigan orchards in their cafeteria. It is ensuring that a teen doesn’t just volunteer at the market; but understands zoning laws, farm bills, and supply chains well enough to challenge them. This is the foundation of our theory of change. We build generational health by shaping habits early and reinforcing them often; through initiatives like our Teen Leadership Program, where young people gain the skills and critical lens to navigate and influence the food system; through field trips to our urban farm and incubator kitchen, where learning is rooted in soil; through Farm to School programming that normalizes local procurement; and through Power of Produce (POP) Club, where children practice agency by choosing fresh food for themselves. This is how we shift from reactive nutrition work to regenerative nutrition culture. We do this by pairing conversations about Food as Medicine, dietary guidelines, and eating real foods, with: An insistence that farmers are part of the prescription. Guidelines that align with affordability and access. Understanding that real foods need to be reachable, culturally meaningful, and dignified. Nutrition is not simply about what’s on a plate. It is about who has the right to thrive. This National Nutrition Month, I invite you to see nutrition not as an individual burden, but as a collective project that treats fresh food not as charity, but as infrastructure. We are cultivating a community where children expect fresh produce, where farmers are stable and respected, and where health is inherited as legacy. That is generational health. And that is the future we are growing together. In solidarity, Julius P.S. Check out the FoodCorps Policy Action Map or sign up for our Farm to School Newsletter if you’re interested in building generational health.

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