March 1, 2026
By Linda Tuccio Koonz
Photographs by Anne Day
Rolling hayfields greet visitors to Sullivan Farm, where hiking trails disappear into the hills under a milky-blue sky. On this peaceful afternoon, the 109-acre New Milford property looks like something from a Van Gogh painting.
But it’s more than just an idyllic setting. Sullivan Farm provides hands-on learning for students interested in the business of organic farming. They grow everything from potatoes to pumpkins, cultivate flowers, and practice beekeeping—even selling their own honey.
The farm also offers tours and programs for groups of all ages. New England traditions, such as making maple syrup, are celebrated here. Mark Mankin, the farm’s executive director, says hundreds turn out for their annual Maple Fest.
“A lot of people really don’t have any idea where maple syrup comes from, and are surprised it starts as sap,” he says. “Many don’t realize it has to be processed; they’re under the impression the syrup comes right out of the tree.”
Sullivan Farm (started in 1841) was a family farm until 1997, when New Milford purchased it. “The way it’s managed is unique to probably any other program in Connecticut, because much of its day-to-day operations are run by high school and college students,” Mankin says. Volunteers, dedicated staff, and paid interns make it possible.
“One thing we’re trying is to make people aware that there’s a process to producing vegetables. Many people go to the store, grab carrots, and have no idea where the carrots came from.”
Seeds must be planted, nurtured, and harvested. There’s a lot to it, he says. The same goes for farm-made jams and baked goods, which the farm sells, along with its fruit, vegetables, and ever-popular maple syrup.
How did syrup making start? Stories vary. It’s believed a broken branch, or woodpeckers, alerted Native Americans to the sap that flows under certain conditions (when temperatures hit the 20s at night, and 40s and 50s during the day).
Originally, Native Americans heated stones and dropped them into sap, creating steam; the sap was boiled down until it became sugar. A slow go, but “with no iPhones or video games, they had a lot of time on their hands,” he says.
These days, Sullivan Farm taps 1,700 sugar maples. The sap is processed in a modern evaporator at the Great Brook Sugarhouse. “It takes 40 gallons of sap to produce a gallon of syrup,” Mankin says, inside the cozy structure.
Displayed near his desk is an amusing advertisement from the Ladies Home Journal, dated 1919. A smiling, chubby-faced man winks as he tips a large syrup container over his plate of pancakes. The copy says, “Oh Boy! Log Cabin Syrup! UM!!!”
More than a century later, we still love to drizzle syrup on our pancakes. Mankin says agriculture is changing dramatically and climate change is a major factor, but Sullivan Farm continues to evolve as well.
“The key to its success is what we’re building now,” he says, “through diversification and programs that draw people to enjoy the property and learn by doing.” —sullivanfarm.org
