Agatha Bock does not spend her days watching the world go by from a city window. Instead, the 92-year-old spends her summers on an ancestral farm in southern Manitoba, working the land with a tenacity that has caught the eye of international cinema. Her life—defined by a rhythmic, seasonal devotion to the earth—is the centerpiece of the award-winning documentary Agatha’s Almanac, a film that captures the vanishing textures of a bygone era of Canadian agriculture.
Directed by her niece, Amalie Atkins, the documentary has transitioned from a local curiosity to a critically acclaimed feature. It recently secured the title of best Canadian feature documentary at Hot Docs 2025 and stood as the sole documentary to make the Toronto International Film Festival’s Top 10 list for Canadian feature films.
For Bock, the global attention is a secondary detail. Although the film has played to sold-out crowds in Gimli and is slated for release in countries as far-reaching as Japan, Taiwan, and Belgium, her primary focus remains the soil. She lives on the farmstead from early May until the first snowfall, maintaining a lifestyle that deliberately eschews modern conveniences. There is no cellphone and no running water; there is only the work.
A Life Defined by the Land
The farm was not merely a place of residence for Bock, but a family legacy. Following the death of her father, Bock and her brother John—who is nearing 96—purchased the property. While the ownership was shared, Bock took on the grueling responsibility of the garden, using the produce to aid fund her half of the farm’s costs.

This commitment to physical labor has become a point of pride and a source of longevity. For over 15 years, Bock has fielded suggestions from others that she should retire to the city for the sake of her health and comfort. Her response has remained consistent: “I don’t wish to stay in the city and watch the cars go by,” she said.
The documentary highlights this refusal to surrender to the perceived frailties of age. By utilizing gardening methods that date back a generation, Bock maintains a physical and mental connection to the earth that she believes resonates with audiences worldwide. Even after health challenges kept her away from the farm last year, her resolve to return to her garden this summer remains unchanged.

The Art of Preservation
For Amalie Atkins, now based in Saskatoon, the project began as a personal quest to preserve the sensory memories of her childhood. The farmstead—where Atkins spent her early years climbing trees and exploring the river—possessed a specific atmosphere that she felt was essential to capture on film.
The transition to a feature-length documentary was organic. Atkins had previously cast Bock in a short film, but seeing her aunt’s natural presence inspired a desire to document her “being herself in her world.” The result is an 86-minute piece shot on 16-mm film, a choice that mirrors the tactile, analog nature of Bock’s own life. The production spanned six years, evolving from a short vision into a comprehensive study of color, texture, and the enormous garden that defines the property.
Beyond the cinematic achievement, Atkins views the film as a catalyst for others to reconnect with the act of growing things. She suggests that the healing power of gardening is accessible to anyone, regardless of the scale of their space. “If you have a window and a pot, you can grow something,” Atkins said.

A Reflection on Temporality
At its core, Agatha’s Almanac is less about farming and more about the passage of time. Bock’s perspective is one of stark, peaceful acceptance. She finds solace in the quiet moments of the evening, watching the moon from a swing by the house after the noise of the day—and the insects—has subsided.
This philosophy extends to her view of the film’s purpose. Bock hopes that her story serves as a reminder of the transient nature of existence. “We’re all here only for a season,” Bock said. “And we never know when that season ends.”
