Returning to the Land in Rural Wales

As I walked along the narrow woodland path winding through Bluebell Woods, I noticed small stones placed carefully beside the trail, each painted with a short message. One simply read: listen. I stopped for a moment and heard the faint sound of water moving through the stream below. Another read: I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees. In that moment, the words felt especially fitting.

A visit to Bronhaul Farm in west Wales feels like a quiet escape from the pace and noise of modern life. Surrounded by rolling green fields, thick hedgerows and patches of ancient woodland, the 25-acre farm is home to Glasbren, a non-profit social enterprise centred around growing food, rebuilding community, and helping people reconnect with the land beneath their feet.

Founded in 2019 by Abel Pearson, Glasbren — the Welsh word for “sapling” — is rooted in the ethics of permaculture: Earth Care, People Care and Fair Share. On the surface, it is a small-scale vegetable farm producing weekly veg boxes for households across west Carmarthenshire. But spending time there, it quickly becomes clear the project is about much more than food alone.

“Our goal is to transform food and eating from taking something off a shelf and cooking it into something more exciting,” Abel told me as we walked through the gardens together. “If you’re foraging for berries for example, it turns food into a whole activity and something that can bring a lot of joy, excitement and adventure into your life.”

The gardens themselves are vibrant and slightly untamed, filled with rows of leafy vegetables, wildflowers, herbs and fruit trees. As Glasbren co-director Steffan Lemke-Elms guided me through the farm, he paused repeatedly to point out edible plants growing almost unnoticed among the greenery. With infectious enthusiasm, he picked leaves and flowers for me to taste directly from the soil. Some were delicious, others less so, but all carried a freshness that felt increasingly unfamiliar.

Despite growing up in the Welsh countryside only a few miles away, I realised how disconnected I had become from the landscape around me. Eating food straight from the earth somehow felt unusual, which, in many ways, lies at the heart of what Glasbren is trying to address.

“I realised you have to start with people’s relationship to the land,” Abel explained. “You have to help people learn to love the Earth again. We all know that if we love something, we protect it.”

That philosophy shapes nearly every part of the project. Rooted in a model known as Community Supported Agriculture (CSA), Glasbren encourages a closer relationship between growers and the people eating the food they produce. Their veg boxes provide seasonal, locally grown produce to more than fifty households between the Taf and Tywi rivers, while the farm itself has gradually become a gathering place for volunteers, visitors and local residents.

Every Thursday, volunteers arrive to help with planting, watering, weeding, harvesting and preparing beds for new crops. Some come simply to spend time outdoors. Others arrive hoping to learn practical growing skills or to find connection and routine. The atmosphere on the farm feels noticeably calm and welcoming — less like a workplace and more like a shared community space.

On the summer afternoon I visited, volunteers moved slowly between the beds carrying wheelbarrows, chatting as they worked beneath the warmth of the July sun. Beyond the gardens, narrow paths disappeared into woodland where handwritten signs encouraged visitors to pause, breathe, and pay attention to the natural world around them.

I left the farm that day feeling unexpectedly lighter. It struck me how rare it had become to spend hours outdoors without constantly checking a phone or thinking about deadlines, emails, or news alerts. Glasbren seemed to offer something increasingly difficult to find: space to simply be still.

That sense of community became even more important during the COVID-19 pandemic, when interest in local food systems and outdoor spaces suddenly grew. Membership of Glasbren expanded rapidly as people searched for alternatives to supermarkets and looked for more meaningful ways to connect with both food and each other.

The project also began fundraising for local food banks by asking members to contribute a few extra pounds each week. But the experience revealed another issue: many people lacked the confidence or skills to cook fresh produce from scratch.

“For some people, it was too intimidating,” Abel explained. “Cooking skills was a real issue.” As someone whose own cooking abilities remain fairly questionable, I could understand the problem.

In response, Glasbren expanded its workshops and educational programmes, offering courses in growing, foraging, cooking and food preservation. The aim is not simply to teach practical skills, but to help people feel more self-reliant and more connected to the ecosystems that sustain them.

There is also an unmistakably philosophical element running through the project — one centred around belonging, stewardship, and developing a deeper relationship with place.

“That’s why I grow food,” Abel told me. “To try and belong to the land.”

In many ways, that feeling lingers long after leaving the farm itself. Beyond the vegetable beds and woodland paths, Glasbren reflects a wider desire for reconnection — not only with food, but with community, landscape, and a slower, more grounded rhythm of life that many people feel has gradually been lost.

Driving away from Bronhaul Farm later that evening, I found myself pulling over beside a nearby field, not quite ready to leave the countryside behind. A small group of ponies wandered over curiously, nudging gently at my hands as the evening light faded across the hills. Standing quietly beside them and reflecting on the day, I realised the farm had left a far deeper impression on me than I’d expected. The fields, hedgerows and woodlands no longer felt like scenery glimpsed through a car window, but part of something more intimate and alive — a reminder of how easily our connection to the land can fade, and how meaningful it can be to find it again.

Glasbren founder Abel Pearson picks veg in one of the two tunnels at Bronhaul Farm.

The driveway leading to the main house at Bronhaul Farm.

The entrance to the Glasbren gardens.

The method of growing at Glasbren is called no-dig, which means the soil isn’t turned or tilled, therefore maintaining its natural ecosystem. “We’re just adding fresh organic matter and compost,” Abel tells me. “It’s called agro-ecological, which is kind of beyond organic – it’s bringing life into soil-building, and habitat creation… As you can see it’s very diverse and mixed.”

One of the veg boxes is filled ready for distribution, together with a newsletter containing information and cooking tips.

Before becoming an employee of Glasbren in 2021, Sophie was a volunteer for two years. “Coming here was life changing,” she says. “It was exactly what I needed at that point, I was very low and not very well. I had an office job before and I realized I couldn’t spend my life in front of a computer.” Sophie tells me that her favorite thing about working at Glasbren is the people and being part of the team.

A visit to Glasbren and Bronhaul Farm would not be complete without a walk through the mystical Bluebell Woods.

A leafy path weaves through Bluebell woods at Bronhaul Farm.

Steffan Lemke-Elms harvests beetroot from the Glasbren garden.

Co-director Stefan Lemke-Elms prepares lunch with fresh food picked from the gardens that morning.

A delicious and colorful lunch prepared by chef and co-director Steffan Lemke-Elms with veg grown in the gardens. All volunteers who come to Glasbren are offered a free lunch once a week at the farm, as well as a free veg box.

Tomatoes grow in a tunnel at Glasbren. “Tomatoes are my favourite for eating and growing,” says Abel. “The difference between a home grown tomato and a shop bought tomato is so huge. I think that’s probably what makes the biggest impact on people – the feedback is that the tomatoes are so sweet and so fresh, people are usually surprised that that’s what they can taste like.”

Hidden amongst the trees is Glasbren’s compost toilet, carefully designed to collect ‘humanure’ in adapted bins where it can safely decompose over time before eventually being used to fertilise trees far from the vegetable gardens.

Across the farm, the buildings themselves have been self-built using locally grown and milled timber alongside reclaimed and recycled materials.

Painted on a beam of wood in one of the sheds at Glasbren is a quote by Robin Wall Kimmerer: “As we work to heal the Earth, the Earth heals us.”

The veg boxes are loaded in the van ready for distribution.

The entrance to Bronhaul Farm, located near the village of Bancyfelin in South Wales.