Vineland Research and Innovation Centre: Reflective Journal
Between May 25 and August 26 of 2022, I worked as an Agricultural Assistant for the Vineland Research and Innovation Centre. I satisfied Redeemer University’s 120-h internship expectation, as each week involved five 8-h shifts. The position was paid a minimum wage: $15.25 per hour. My first shift comprised HR tasks: signing anti-harassment declaration forms, obtaining WHMIS certification, perusing safe-operating-procedure documents (SOP) for tractors, Gators, and landscaping tools. My boss was Vineland’s Farm and Grounds Manager. Unfortunately, I cannot describe his qualifications; both Google and Vineland’s website fail to yield such information. Admittedly, I could’ve made a better effort to get to know the man.
The boss was incredibly nice. Over the summer, I was living out of my car. On my second day of work, the company held a barbecue to welcome student contractors. The boss stood beside me in line. He asked me questions about school; I told him a bit about Redeemer’s biology programme. “So, you’re commuting from Ancaster?” he asked.
“Staying close by,” I replied. I elaborated, telling him about my living arrangements. Within the next few days, he invited me to use the main building’s laundry machine; additionally, there was a shower in which I could wash up after work.
Most shifts involved apple trees (Malus spp.). During my first week, a teammate and I straddled a tractor’s implement, positioning rootstock from a transplanter. Other days consisted of disinfectant pruning: isopropyl alcohol was used to wet the pruner’s blades, as apple trees are highly susceptible to fire blight (Erwinia amylovora), a bacterial pathogen. Apical boughs were tied to bamboo stakes for support, and horizontal growth was removed. Apple thinning was also prioritised—a principal part of the job for both July and August. The team and I would stand on either level of a two-storey wagon as a tractor pulled us forward: from both sides of the implement, we reached over the frame, grasping at clusters of red and green fruit; we clawed the apples from their branches while ensuring a distance of approximately 3” between diminished groups. Each cluster’s largest apple was colloquially known as the king’s fruit. It was typically spared amidst our effort, stripped of its retinue and left to dangle alone.
The task was tedious, as Vineland’s Malus orchards include over 25,000 trees. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the work. It’s nice to be outside; a 9–5 desk job would never suit me. Similar responsibilities were applied to pear trees (Pyrus spp.), which constitute a closely related genus. While working the fields, leaves were observed for signs of insect pests: leafhoppers (Cicadellidae), for example, cause the edges to curl; leafminers (Phyllonorycter blancardella) result in foliar blotches. My BSc experience accommodated inspection: during the 2021–2022 academic year, I wrote a report on the Japanese beetle (Popillia japonica); when I came across Vineland’s skeletonised leaves, I was able to identify the scarab as the culprit.
Gator utility vehicles were employed to scoot about the property—apple, pear, and Prunus plots were typically accessible enough to drive between their rows. Vineland’s fleet was propelled by both diesel and petrol engines; it was important to fill each vehicle with the appropriate fuel, as gasoline can cause diesel engines to combust. Petrol was likewise used for landscaping equipment: the string trimmer received a gas to oil ratio of 50:1. Accordingly, for a 10-L mixture, oil constituted 200 mL: 𝑥/10 L = 1/50 ⇒ 𝑥 = 0.2 L. The equation now feels horribly rudimentary; however, before my enrolment in Redeemer’s biology programme, my algebraic skill set was all but nonexistent.
In August, the team and I were introduced to budding techniques. We practised with grafting knives, which bore specialised blades: the angled edges promoted efficient work, smoothly removing the buds from their branches. A T-shaped notch was then cut into the rootstock; the bud was inserted and secured with elastic. For two weeks, we applied our training to a designated plot. The job was tiring—a bit hard on the knees and lower back; nevertheless, the team worked well together. We cooperated in pairs: one person budding, one person tying. The task continued into my contract’s second-last week. When it was finished, the group and I returned to thinning apples and peaches. Technically, employment was effective until August 26; however, I tested positive for COVID-19 on the 24th and subsequently missed the last two days.
Ultimately, the internship exposed me to numerous practices: I weeded flower beds, constructed irrigation systems, operated loaders, and carpentered outdoor planters for experimental maples (Acer platanoides) and tulip trees (Liriodendron tulipifera). As much as I liked my boss, the man’s attitude was occasionally stressful. He had a habit of saying “like I said” when giving instruction; the mannerism carried an air of condescension. I’m sure that he didn’t mean to patronise, but the frequency of “like I said” certainly rubbed people the wrong way. While assembling the planters with planks of pine, I was deprived of my impact driver. Carpentry was new for me, and the boss didn’t have patience for my learning curve.
“David,” he said, snatching the tool, “if the screw starts to jump like that, stop.”
I was taken aback, remaining silent as the man finished my job. The stronger part of me wanted to say “boss, I’m not gonna learn if you don’t let me practise,” but I kept my mouth shut; I was afraid of jeopardising my contract. It’s a terrible thing: sacrificing self-esteem for the sake of job security. I like to remember the boss for his better qualities. In the end, my hurt feelings represent an opportunity for introspection and growth. I’m sure that the man was under the pressure of deadlines; the previous week, he fell from his motorbike and shattered his shoulder on the way home from work. Whatever the conflict, it’s important to practise empathy. Life is hard enough without the burden of resentment. By considering a person’s inevitable struggles, bitterness becomes pathetically trivial.
Although most of my Vineland stint involved field crops, I spent an average of two days per week in the greenhouse. The facility was run by a separate management team: James, the Lead Grower; and Louise, the Research Assistant. Working mostly with Louise, my duties encompassed both handiwork and propagation. I disassembled benches, inventoried roses (Rosa spp.), and measured pH for both tomato (Solanum lycopersicum) and cucumber (Cucumis sativus) runoff. My favourite task applied to biocontrol insects. Each Wednesday, a new box of predators would arrive. They contributed to a greenhouse ecology, effectively supplementing my awareness of entomological relationships: Enermix cards were used to combat whiteflies; each sachet contained two species of parasitoid wasp, Eretmocerus eremicus and Encarsia formosa; when distributed, the cards were folded upwards, as the Enermix hymenopterans are reputedly poor flyers. Phytoseiulus persimilis was dispersed for spider-mite (Tetranychidae) control; it was shaken over foliar webs, targeting congregations.
Overall, the greenhouse shifts constituted my happiest days at Vineland. In comparison to string trimming and fruit thinning, the work seemed to complement my professional pursuits more applicably. As much as I loved getting dirty in the fields, a lot of the tasks felt like menial labour. The greenhouse afforded scientifically relevant challenges, which focused more on biochemical interpretations and less on monotonous chores. During the first week of August, I worked with Valerio, a researcher in vegetable breeding. In response to the tomato brown rugose fruit virus, Valerio’s team and I sterilised sections of pipes and benches; we trudged around in Tyvek suits, scraping off debris. The greenhouse had lost several crops to the microbe, resulting in hundreds of withered plants. Consequently, a prophylactic approach was imperative for the cleanup.
Looking back, my experience at Vineland reinforced my passion for botanical studies. When I entered Redeemer’s biology programme, I already had postgraduate ideas in mind. My handful of scientist friends had told me that in order to establish a meaningful career in field work, a researcher should have at least an MSc. As a kid, I loved hunting for snakes and frogs at the park. My grandparents had a home in Grimsby; over the snowless seasons, whenever my siblings and I paid them a visit, I would immediately run to the side of the house and check the basement’s window well for toads. As childish as that may sound, while making the decision to return to university, I thought that my enthusiasm for herpetology would influence my vocational perspectives more significantly; however, I quickly found that I was torn between animals and plants when it came to the prospect of specialising in a particular discipline.
For whatever reason, I think that plants are now my thing. Phytochemistry fascinates me; it’s amazing how some species perfectly embody the balance between life and death—the Paracelsian adage of dosis sola facit venenum. For instance, check out Brugmansia’s ethnobotanical significance: the angel’s trumpets can both precipitate lethal toxidromes and offer analgesic poultices. Throughout my 20s and into my 30s, I had a massive problem with alcohol: 12 years of miserable addiction. In July of 2020, I finally gave it up amidst the earlier days of COVID-19; the pandemic compelled me to reassess my priorities, and I landed on the decision to try harder in life. I had degrees in English and creative writing, but I was not excited about my primary career options of teaching and copy editing. As a kid, I did think about becoming a scientist; however, I was a horrible student. When I matriculated in 2012 for my BA in English, I asked about the university’s biology programme; however, I was told that my academic history wasn’t sufficient for the BSc’s prerequisites. That makes sense—I had withdrawn from high school after the 10th grade. Accordingly, I suppressed the thought of biological studies, convinced that I didn’t have what it takes to get through core requirements, such as chemistry and calculus.
Or I was just lazy: I didn’t like the idea of earning high school credits in my 20s to meet the biology programme’s expectations for new students. Initially, the English programme represented an easy way for me to obtain a degree and become qualified to teach ESL abroad. When 2020 arrived, I was 33 and living in the UK on a work visa. Finding gigs was tough—I worked seasonally at a bookshop and interned at a publishing house. I felt abysmally unfulfilled. Creative writing still constituted a major passion for me; however, vocationally, I felt as though something was missing: bloody biology, mate. So, I contacted Redeemer; after discussing the prerequisites, I deigned to enrol in both Grade 12 chemistry and calculus through the Independent Learning Centre. “Do what is meaningful, not what is expedient” (Peterson, 2018, p. 143). Biology has given me an incredible sense of purpose. As Jordan Peterson has said, “If you’re trying to stop drinking, you need something better than alcohol—and alcohol’s pretty good; so, you’d better find something a lot better, man” (Von, 2019). My resolve to work hard and focus on living things has contributed indispensably to my temperance.
After receiving my Vineland contract, I established three learning goals for the internship. The first involved the following humility: don’t be afraid to look appallingly inexperienced. In order to learn about propagation and sustainable agriculture, I took every opportunity to liaise with the company’s researchers: plant pathologists, ornamental breeders, entomologists, and farmers. My coworkers and I exchanged books: Larry lent me The End of Food; I inherited Chloe’s copy of Breaking Open the Head. In addition to my journal, I maintained a notebook, jotting down ecological observations and horticultural strategies: greenhouse rosebuds, for instance, are typically removed to deter pests. My modesty wasn’t an act. I truly did feel inadequate in several capacities. In July, I scratched up one of the company trucks while pulling out of a scrap-metal compound; my aptitude for driving tractors was questionable. Despite my incompetence, I strove to project a positive attitude, conveying enthusiasm for collaborative work.
The second learning goal corresponded to MSc prospects. I may pursue a master’s in something pharmacognostic: botanical and fungal medicine constitutes a compelling discipline. Psilocybin’s psychiatric significance intrigues me, and I feel as though psychedelic research may steer my postgraduate trajectory. I listened closely to conversations between colleagues with mutual interests, hoping to find inspiration for a possible thesis topic. Daniel and I talked extensively about the medicinal benefits of stigmatised drugs; it may be neat to approach such compounds from a Christian perspective. The conversations led me to strongly consider a return to Alberta in 2023. I have the opportunity to work with a Tla'amin Chief, who specialises in medicinal plants and ceremonies. Participating in the Chief’s spiritual rites would accompany a gratifying narrative: an opportunity to reconcile my literary and scientific passions. I hope to co-write a book with the Chief and discuss traditional phytotherapy through an autobiographical approach.
My third learning goal was centred on confidence. For whatever bloody reason, since giving up alcohol, I’ve been a nervous mess in public. I’m not myself. When I have something to say, I typically say it; however, a frustrating anxiety makes me stutter; my heart beats furiously. So, while at Vineland, I made a point of using my voice more actively: chatting with people, asking questions. I’ve yet to grow past the tachycardia, but my social skills have improved dramatically since the first day of work. Interpersonal relationships are key to efficient development—without partnership and amicability, we remain so needlessly flawed.
References
Peterson, J. B. (2018). 12 rules for life: An antidote to chaos. Penguin.
Von T. [Theo Von Clips]. (2019, May 28). Jordan Peterson on alcohol [Video]. YouTube. https://youtu.be/4cYuWLZI5kw
