Knowledge, danger, power, heritage

[rebeccmeister]

As I continue to read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, I'm struck by my ignorance about the seasonality of local produce here. Reading about Kingsolver's decisions about when to plant and when to harvest different types of fruits and vegetables makes me want to assemble a gardener's almanac, except there's one small problem: growing seasons are quite different out here in the desert.

The summer is often slower because it's too hot to grow many things, but aside from that simple statement I'm still having a hard time determining what's best when. Participating in the area CSA is helping with that, but I think it's going to take a full year of participation for me to gain a full appreciation of how things work.

All I know is, when I went to the grocery store this afternoon, all that I could see in the produce section were food-miles and food-miles: pale tomatoes in the organic produce section, avocados from who-knows-where (in all likelihood, California, where most of our produce originates, and not such a long distance from us as from folks in Virginia), all sorts of greens and exotic mushrooms, and strawberries and rhubarb suggestively paired together. I'd feel like a fool if I bought strawberries right now--I doubt they taste much like the real thing, as it's way too late in the year for them in the parts of the country I'm familiar with. And yet I did buy kale and cauliflower, foods that I'd guess are well out of season around here (I should note that I missed our CSA pick-up this week, an unfortunate oversight). But it's hard to make simple menu-planning decisions without some basic knowledge of what I should be eating.

I'm grateful for every small bit of the food-growing knowledge my parents (and especially mother) have managed to pass on to us kids. As we've gotten older, the family back yard has been renovated into a lush vegetable garden, and my mother has managed to squeeze in two apple trees, blueberry bushes and strawberry plants in a narrow side-yard. All this, plus a row of tall evergreens along the driveway that provide shade and some protection from the busy street. Though sytharin's boss on the organic farm kept on telling her, "You don't know ____? You're never going to be a farmer," I think we've started out with at least a bit more knowledge than the average American.

I also keep on thinking about the farm where my mom grew up. My mom's family primarily refers to it as a chicken farm (with some dairy, too, I believe), and yet my grandfather's equally lush and productive vegetable garden is a testament to the fact that it was far more than that. I shouldn't fail to mention his dahlias, either. Only now do I fully appreciate their exquisite beauty and variety.

As time has passed, my grandfather has sold off portions of his land--it is now seen as valuable for McMansions for people willing to commute the hour or longer into the Seattle area. But some vestiges of the original remain, particularly the large, salmon-colored Chicken House (barn) full of all sorts of exciting farm implements and other relics, and a small pasture out behind the barn.

When my mom and her brothers and sisters grew up, they spread out into the world, landing as close by as Seattle (my mom) and as far away as Saudi Arabia (uncle), to pursue their own careers and lifestyles. So I'm left to wonder--when writers talk about the loss of the small family farm, do they think of families like mine? If our farm was lost, how did this happen, and why? Is there some part of it that could be carried on in the family (if it's merely dormant and not lost), or is that unrealistic at this point? What will happen to this part of my heritage? I'm tied to that place in the shadow of Mt. Rainier, just as I'm tied, however faintly, to the life of a cowboy and a grandmother in a small town in a valley in Montana. There's a danger to disconnection from these places, a homelessness that is visible in my confusion in the grocery store.

Comments

[sandokai.livejournal.com]

I read some articles by a man who was trying to only eat produce grown within a certain radius. I think he was writing a book about it. It was interesting, though a bit depressing, as he had to find about 20 ways to cook turnips one week.

[rebeccmeister.livejournal.com]

At some point, I think I'll read that book, The 100-Mile Diet. It sounds like it's quite challenging, and I know that personally I'd have a very hard time giving up foods like coffee and chocolate.

I think eventually people will have to figure out how to strike a balance. I don't think it's so bad to eat foods from farther away if they are foods with a relatively long shelf-life, like grain products. But most produce doesn't have that. I just think I need to get back to recognizing which sorts of foods are luxury goods that have had flavor bred out in favor of globe-traveling durability.

[crume.livejournal.com]

I thought of making a book called "The Arizona Diet," based on his book idea.

All of the tomatoes marked "Euro Fresh" come from EuroFresh farms in Southern Arizona, where they have huge hothouses. When we go to Willcox in a few weeks, we could possibly take a side trip to go see them.

[boolean263.livejournal.com]

"You don't know ____? You're never going to be a farmer."

That comment is not only condescending and unneccessary, it's actually damaging to that farmer's cause. Lots of "old arts" like farming are dying, and it's not uncommon for your average person to not know ____. But if he's just going to berate them for it, and not pass the knowledge of ____ on for people to learn and promulgate, he's just going to drive people away when he should be capturing their interest, and the net result is he's speeding the death of the organic farming industry.

[sytharin.livejournal.com]

Ah, he was mostly joking... and to be fair, he's not exactly the typical proponent of the organic farming cause, and he's seen a lot of airheaded would-be farmers crash and burn because of a lack of practical knowledge. By the end of the summer, he'd come around to the notion that I might actually have what it takes to handle the job--and the lifestyle that comes with it.

Keep in mind, too, that the organic farming industry isn't dying. ;)