Martha’s Vineyard has culturally shifted since the 17th and 18th century when agriculture was the primary economic driver of the year-round community, but the Island continues to be a hub for farms and the workers who tend them. The still-prosperous industry results in an influx of seasonal workers when the weather turns warm, which means an increased need for housing.
Three seasonal farmhands recently unpacked their bags of clothes, art supplies, and books into circular dwellings called yurts, which they were provided as their summer workplace accommodation. The wood and canvas structures are one solution among many for an ongoing local crisis in affordable housing availability.
“I could not have gotten this job without having housing,” Isabel Villanueva, 31-year-old seasonal farm hand at Island Grown Initiative (IGI) and yurt dweller, told The Times on a recent Thursday afternoon. “The housing crisis around here is so real.”
At the IGI campus in Vineyard Haven, just past the pickup for Community Supported Agriculture produce shares and plots of community gardens, three yurts are propped up on sandy terrain. The structures are 16-feet in diameter and are manufactured by Pacific Yurts. They’re situated next to a small building that has a kitchen, bathroom, and dining area. In that shared space, a few bikes are stored in the entryway and a guitar is propped next to a dining table.
The three farmhands, who each live in individual yurts, often meet for meals and coffee in the shared building. Since the yurts are out in the open and barely insulated, the heat can get intense, so the A/C in the shared space has already come in handy for them.
IGI administrators pursued the yurts for seasonal workers while building year-round housing for their mainstay employees. The effort to build those units was substantial and the cost to construct on the Vineyard is higher than the mainland.
“We just knew that kind of expenditure was not realistic for seasonal employees. But with a farm, the workload really does shift and is so much greater in the summer,” Caroline Pam, co-executive director at IGI, said. “This is a perfect solution — a more cost effective, affordable housing opportunity.”
Pam added that “in order to attract skilled, experienced people who want to learn about regenerative farming, it’s really hard to attract people to come for six months of the year without being able to provide housing.”
The other co-executive director of IGI, Noli Taylor, pitched the idea of yurts. She and her husband, Isaac, lived in one while their home was being built 20 years ago.
“It was such a wonderful space to live in,” Taylor told The Times. “We loved it. So that opened my eyes to the value of yurts, and I’m so glad that we’re now able to offer this housing to our seasonal farm staff.”
Yurts are not the first line of defense against a stark shortage in affordable units, but they are one option. Across the country, yurts have been touted as a possible housing solution, especially in areas with less severe weather. The size of the structures are comparable to small accessory dwelling units, but their impermanence and lower costs have made yurts a sought after addition to backyards and workplaces.
“Everyone who’s tried to build housing here knows how difficult it is to make it work financially, and a solution like ours is practical for a farm environment,” Taylor said. “As a nonprofit with limited resources, finding affordable, creative solutions that also help our staff have healthy, humane lives is a priority for us,” Taylor said. She added that the Martha’s Vineyard Commission was supportive of the idea.
On the Island, workplace housing is scarce. Overcrowded conditions, last-minute Facebook posts on local housing groups, and even outdoor living in tents, are all commonplace on the Vineyard, often to the backdrop of extreme wealth. According to reports by the Martha’s Vineyard Commission, the average rent costs are $3,000 for a one-bedroom apartment in the offseason. And on local sites that list short-term rentals, prices are often around $50,000 a week for a vacation stay, with some homes so lavish, visitors are charged in the hundreds of thousands for a brief visit.
Building is also an estimated 30 percent higher here than the mainland, according to a phenomenon that came up in talks of the Martha’s Vineyard Regional High School building project called the “Island factor.” This is largely due to transportation costs.
The three yurts cost a total of $55,000 for IGI to purchase and $130,000 to install, much lower than the average construction costs to build a home. They required building inspector and town approval, but since they’re small and can be deconstructed, it was a less rigorous process. And the lodging for the farmhands is a fraction of the rent average at $500 a month.
“They’re charging very little as far as Martha’s Vineyard rent prices go, and it’s really nice to roll out of bed and just be like: ‘I’m at work!’” Villanueva said. She added that their commute is a mere 30 seconds.
The other two farmhands, 32-year-old Lina Raciukaitis, from Worcester, Mass., and recent Kenyon College graduate Jen Novick, 22, said the yurts have made for rather easy living so far.
“It’s very spacious inside, like it’s honestly way bigger than many bedrooms I’ve had before,” Novick said as she sat cross-legged in one of the chairs in their common area.
The farmhands said their daily routines are defined by a close proximity to their jobs and access to homemade lunches and fresh produce to cook with.
“It’s very comfortable,” Novick said. “I would say, it’s not the most weatherproof.”
And that closeness with the land means more than just temperature fluctuations and fresh food. The three farmhands all spoke about the rising public health concern on the Island of ticks. Conditions like alpha-gal, an allergy to mammalian products, Lyme disease, and others that can come from a bite are a frequent part of their experience as outdoor workers. While they all got into the agricultural industry to be working with soil, plants, and harvests, none of them are originally from the Island, and ticks were a curveball they had to adjust to.
“Everyone you meet either has had some exposure to it or knows someone who’s been exposed to it,” Raciukaitis said. “I thought it was so interesting the first time I saw the Mo’s [Lunch] menu that they have alpha-gal allergy on there, because it’s just a part of living here.”
Villanueva agreed. She’s from Texas originally, and was a farmer there as well. “It’s a completely different danger level, for sure.”
“I was coming from an environment where there were fire ants, rattlesnakes, the heat, all these things trying to kill you, and I was like: ‘Can’t wait to farm on this idyllic island where nothing’s trying to hurt you!’” Villanueva said with a laugh. “And they were like, careful of the ticks, though.”
The housing issues on the Island are also different for the farmhands, who were familiar with difficulties with lodging in their home towns and cities. But on Martha’s Vineyard, they faced a new version of a familiar hurdle.
“I have friends who are putting their stuff in storage units, trying to do the ‘Island shuffle.’ I feel like I vaguely did it last year, but I was really lucky to have IGI behind me,” Villanueva said. The Island shuffle is a colloquial phrase that refers to locals moving out of their homes or rentals to make room for seasonal visitors.
Villanueva worked at IGI last season, and lived in a house provided by IGI as she waited for the yurts to be built, and met a lot of year-rounders and seasonal workers in the farm community.
Novick said she was alarmed by how much housing affects year-rounders, especially “workers here who are the backbone of this community.”
She added that she knows a lack of affordable housing availability is “the case across the country,” but she’s observed that the crisis is “under a magnifying glass” when the space to build is limited by a surrounding ocean.
But all three farmhands discussed their delight in the way agricultural workers are treated on the Island. “People care so much about farmers here,” Villanueva expressed.
“I didn’t really realize how big the agricultural scene was here before I moved. I was sort of surprised to learn about that, but it does make a lot of sense, and I’m happy that it exists,” Raciukaitis said with a smile.