A Farm Less Ordinary Cultivates a Community
Written by Laticia Headings
When Greg Masucci returned home from a routine grocery run in the fall of 2013, his 7-year-old son, Max, suddenly broke free from him and ran straight toward heavy traffic near their bustling Capitol Hill home. Masucci dropped his grocery bags and charged after his son, fearing the worst. Though Max was unharmed, Masucci and his wife, Maya Wechsler, realized the experience would forever alter the trajectory of their lives. He recalls, “I said to my wife, we’re moving. We just have to figure out where.”
Max, who was diagnosed with autism in 2010 and given an IQ assessment of 45 just before his third birthday, was not only the family’s impetus for moving, but also their inspiration. “Instead of trying to fit his square peg in a round hole, he just creates his own world,” Masucci says. “We decided we were going to do what he does. Instead of trying to keep this crazy life on track, we were going to create our own tribe and be the founding members.”
Determined to find the best path forward for Max and their family, including their younger daughter, Delilah, the couple spent the next several years, and more than half their income, searching for answers. “It really hit us hard. I knew there was something more going on in there that did not make sense for a person with an IQ of 45, because he had good problem-solving skills,” Masucci says. “But when people with a lot of initials after their name tell you these things, you start to doubt yourself, even as a parent. My wife and I were both sinking into states of depression.”
Autism spectrum disorders are complex, and each individual presents with unique symptoms and challenges. Max became completely nonverbal as he got older and continued to display behaviors that posed a risk to his safety. “Being unable to help your child is probably the most debilitating thing about it. It’s hanging over you all the time,” Masucci says.
By the age of 6, Max had cycled through three different public schools, which Masucci attributes to inadequate resources and ineffective standards. “The school system was not very accommodating,” he says. “Max was in a special education program and losing language, not gaining it.”
“Instead of trying to keep this crazy life on track, we were going to create our own tribe and be the founding members.” – Masucci
As a result, the couple became special education advocates and policy shapers, joining forces with other families with special needs children. Masucci regularly attended and became a well-known voice at city council meetings, and Wechsler started a blog called The Short Bus Diaries, which gained traction and popularity. Eventually The Washington Post picked up their story, bringing more attention to their cause.
After failed attempts with the D.C. public school system to get Max a private school placement, a lengthy litigation ensued that was instrumental in creating sweeping reforms for intellectually and developmentally disabled (ID/DD) children in the District’s public education system under the Individual Disabilities Education Act. “Oddly, the school thing energized us … because we were at least trying to make a better world for these kids and young people,” Masucci says.
They also started to think about Max’s future beyond high school. ID/DD students age out of the system at 22 and statistically, most don’t graduate. “They usually don’t really launch into society because there aren’t enough programs to support what they need to be successful. Employment is the linchpin,” Masucci says. “We knew advocacy was the path for us. We said, we’re going to start a farm. We’re going to employ people!”
As a licensed realtor in three states, Masucci set his sights on the Northern Virginia countryside. Masucci and Wechsler, who both grew up in the Chicago suburbs and met in Denver, originally envisioned a modest homestead for their family of four. Never guessing “two city kids” would end up owning 24 acres in bucolic Bluemont, they wrote their self-funded business plan on a napkin the day after their property closed in 2014. “I never had anything bigger than a postage-stamp-sized yard.” Masucci admits, “Honestly, we had no idea what we were doing, but we gave ourselves a year to learn farming.”
By 2016, A Farm Less Ordinary (AFLO) had its 501(c)(3) nonprofit status, hired its first four ID/DD growers, enlisted the help of a special education teacher as a volunteer, and began delivering subscription boxes to five locations between Bluemont and Capitol Hill.
The farm has employed over 100 people to date and now operates in Leesburg at a new permanent location. Most employees work 16 to 20 hours a week and make at or above minimum wage. “We try not to turn anyone away. On average, we have 29 employees — 35 at peak season and 31 of them with profound disabilities,” Masucci says.
“We knew advocacy was the path for us. We said, we’re going to start a farm. We’re going to employ people!” – Masucci
Only 38% of disabled adults aged 18 to 64 work full-time in Loudoun County, 23% work part-time, and 38% don’t work at all. “Not surprisingly, a very predictable set of bad health outcomes happen: they often become sedentary and isolated, have high rates of obesity, hypertension, diabetes, depression, and suicide. Most can’t drive, and if a family member has to stay at home to caretake, it’s often financially taxing,” Masucci explains.
At AFLO, “We understand their challenges and accommodate them. We give them financial purpose and a paycheck, we give them job skills and training to maybe move on to the next job, and we’re a welcoming community for them.”
Growers and farm managers are involved from seed to sale — planting, harvesting, retail, even kitchen safety — for the chemical-free produce and herbs sold at the AFLO store, local farmers markets, and through direct-to-consumer subscriptions.
Beginning in February, growers take part in both classroom sessions and hands-on field training. After the busy summer season of harvesting, weighing, washing, and packing produce, they shift focus to preparing the farms for winter and begin making jams and preserves. Masucci emphasizes the importance of year-round engagement. “For many of them, the farm is their main social circle outside of family. They really miss being around each other.”
“For many of them, the farm is their main social circle outside of family. They really miss being around each other.” – Masucci
Throughout the year, AFLO donates roughly 25% of its food to local food pantries and holds several annual fundraisers, including its Feast in the Field on September 13.
Both Masucci and Wechsler have full-time jobs outside of the farm and share homeschooling duties for Max, who hopes to attend college after getting his high school diploma and eventually wants to get his master’s degree.
In 2021, Wechsler began teaching her teenage son the Rapid Prompting Method using a letter board — a communication tool displaying the alphabet — to help him develop motor skills and spell out words to express his thoughts. In less than a year, Max became proficient and developed a robust vocabulary.
His progress inspired the couple to enter Max in a New York Times essay contest for middle schoolers. “Out of 12,800 entries, Max came in second,” Masucci says. “A kid with a supposed IQ of 45.”
Masucci says Max enjoys being part of farm life but has his own aspirations. “He’s an astute observer of people and very interested in creating content for people who are nonverbal, maybe a social network. He also wants to help them work on devices that might be able to help them communicate better.”
It’s clear that Max’s journey — and the farm community his family has cultivated — has already made a meaningful impact on others like him facing similar challenges. ML
Learn more about Feast in the Field at afarmlessordinary.org/feast-2025. For more information on A Farm Less Ordinary, visit afarmlessordinary.org.
Published in the August 2025 issue of Middleburg Life.