Landship Foods

MLK and kraut

2012-01-16T16:00:00.007-05:00

A friend sent me this link to some of Martin Luther King's most famous speeches. I listened to it as I made some sauerkraut. It is well worth a little time to recall his message of non-violence, love, and respect for all. It is still as true today is in 1967 that "either we go up together, or we go down together." This basic maxim is strikingly relevant: according to a recent article the US ranks 27th out of the 31 'developed' countries surveyed in terms of social justice. For instance, whereas in Denmark only 1 out of 27 children live in poverty, the rate in the US is more than 1 in 5. Not too long ago GOP presidential hopeful Mitt Romney argued that all those who claim there is too much wealth concentrated at the top of the economic ladder in the US are simply jealous...It sounds to me like most of them are probably hungry, too. Those of us who are lucky enough to not be literally hungry have to make sure that the free market ideologues don't gain any more ground in the depths of our current economic woes, or else 1 in 4 US children will grow up in poverty pretty soon.

New-ness

2012-01-12T11:19:00.007-05:00

2012 is here but before the new semester started I got to sneak in a sea kayaking trip down to Charleston, where I plan to be doing my dissertation research soon.

It was early in the New year, and I woke up early on the final morning to see the New day dawn.

At punctuated symbolic times like the New year and the New dawn it is more common for us to let the omnipresent concerns of "doing" fade into the experience of "being". But it is also true that every moment is a New one, and my resolution this year is to welcome them all, rather than just those that are prejudged to be important.

Pulling New carrots out of the ground is worthy of notice, too:

Inventing Traditions

2011-12-27T20:42:00.007-05:00

All traditions have a history. They begin somewhere, sometime. Traditions only gain that label and the associated notoriety through some kind of social negotiation or political maneuver. Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger conceptualize this phenomenon as "the invention of tradition".

This maxim applies equally to food traditions. Over the holidays our family decided to smoke a small hog I got from a farmer here in Athens.

The whole hog roast is an event that I enjoy just about as much as any other, and as such have written about it here several times. But we have never smoked one at home before. I am hoping we can invent that tradition!

I started some sauerkraut fermenting a few weeks ago and it was ready when I got back to Athens, so I decided to make a meal out of the kraut and leftover pork. I highly recommend it.

Collard Season

2011-12-11T13:08:00.004-05:00

The ham hocks and onions are stewing away on the stove to make a big pot of stock for my collard harvest.

A few months ago a friend gave me some extra collard starts that he had, so I dug up a new, small bed right outside the back door for 'em. And now I have a huge pile that will cook down into a reasonable size for a potluck I am going to tonight.

My dog was a little confused about what happened to them, though...

Occupy Absentee-Owned Farmland

2011-12-07T18:20:00.006-05:00

As city governments across the nation figure out "socially-acceptable" ways to force Occupy folks out of public space, many of the protesters and their supporters are trying to channel the energy of the occupations into continuing discussions about income inequality in the US. I ran across a blog posting by Ohio farmer and writer Gene Logsdon recently that offered a provocative avenue.

Check out his thoughts here.

His thoughts point to an interesting conundrum: Considering plenty of rural folk are in the 99%, why is it that Occupy is largely a big city phenomenon?

I guess this is just another version of Thomas Frank's combustible question:
What's the Matter with Kansas?

Feasts

2011-11-26T09:18:00.002-05:00

My birthday is always a day for giving thanks, but this year it was federally-sanctioned: November 24th was also Thanksgiving Day. So, the day of excessive eating was even more over-the-top. It was topped off with my mom's world famous cheesecake smothered in a backyard blueberry sauce! And, as the guest of honor, I didn't even have to serve myself...(my sister presented it because she felt bad for forgetting my birthday present!)

Transition

2011-11-11T13:14:00.006-05:00

Though not the official beginning of winter according to the "experts," I think winter began today here in Athens. Either way, the productive growing season is in the future and the past - not the present. There was a light, patchy frost last night and when I get home my weekend task is composting the summer crops. I was able to harvest lots of the peppers and the last of the okra before it was frost-bitten though.

Luckily my kale is pretty well established.

The one good thing about pulling out the tomatoes is that it means deer season is upon us!

Homegrown Terror

2011-11-07T20:59:00.005-05:00

Just a few days ago I was enjoying the brisk and sunny weather on my walk to school when I caught out of the corner of my eye the newspaper headline with that dreaded "T" word: Terror.

This time it was not some "foreign" threat, but a very local one. The article reported that four northeast Georgia men were arrested for manufacturing ricin, a toxic gas, and trying to secure other weapons and poisons. This was, of course, shocking but nearly as unsettling was the fact that these men were all over 60 years old and at least one over 70! Another source pointed out that, as with many other bad decisions, this one was hatched in a Waffle House.

Some of the online chatter about this event portrays it as a kind of hopeless criminal caper: four deranged old farts with too much time on their hands. While one could no doubt make a comical film based on these characters, I can't laugh at the reality. Several of them were militia members and carried a web presence from the days of the state flag controversy. I know they are extremists, but I also know too many other good-ole boys and girls who take the FOX News/libertarian/get-the-government-out-of-my-life/"No New Taxes" line seriously enough that after a couple of months of unemployment they might join the Waffle House gang, or at least elect one of them for city council.

A few blocks after I read the newspaper headline I passed a car with a bumpersticker on it that read in an ornate gothic text, "Secede!" In the corner was a portrait of Robert E. Lee. There were also several other stickers which identified the owner of the new Jeep Grand Cherokee as a wealthy, white college kid from rural Georgia (Bulloch County, to be precise). Why does he want to secede, or even sport such a bumper sticker? Dear reader: This is not a rhetorical question, please send me an e-mail with your thoughts...

I think the UGA undergrad and the Waffle House gang have a common politics rooted in the myth of rugged individualism. National politics is growing increasingly polarized and the right continues to offer the stale rhetoric of "free" market capitalism as the seedbed of deserved prosperity: less government intervention ensures that those who work hard reap "their" rewards. I disagree. There is no such thing as individual success or failure; all outcomes are the result of social relations. As Wendell Berry succinctly argues: There is no such thing as autonomy. There is only responsible and irresponsible dependence.

Methland, by Nick Reding

2011-10-03T11:35:00.006-04:00

This one will be short and sweet; no pictures or anecdotes.

Buy this book; read it; then give it to someone else.

From the website:

Methland tells the story of the small town of Oelwein, Iowa–and, through it, the story of drug abuse in rural America. Once a railroad, meat-packing, and farming hub, Oelwein has been battered by the Farm Crisis and decimated by job losses. More recently, thanks to the lobbying of pharmaceutical companies in Washington, D.C., record amounts of methamphetamine, aka crank or crystal meth, are available on Oelwein’s streets. Like thousands of other small towns across the United States, the drug’s production has become one of Oelwein’s principal business.

As the LA Times puts it:

“Like all good journalism, [Methland is] the hand holding up the mirror, the friend telling us to take a cold, hard look at ourselves...”

Even if you don't live in rural America, this book matters to you. As William Cronon points out, "We all live in the country. We all live in the city."

Back-to-School Special

2011-08-17T09:30:00.005-04:00

Back in Georgia, my classes start today for the semester. Luckily, my roommate tended the garden with care while I was gone and for the past few days I have been pickling okra and peppers and eating fresh tomatoes!

And there's still more coming in from the garden:

A bountiful garden makes late summer in Georgia much more enjoyable than it would be otherwise!

If you're going to San Francisco...

2011-08-12T10:39:00.004-04:00

One of my best friends came through the Gulch for the 85th reunion (possibly because I told him we would be roasting a whole hog...) I think this photo is from the morning after the all-night roast, and as he was on his way to San Francisco the sunflowers seemed a righteous prop!

Final Harvest

2011-08-09T23:32:00.003-04:00

Tomorrow marks the end of my sojourn in New Mexico. The past few years I have come out for the entire summer, but this year was shortened due to schoolwork. It was still quite enjoyable though. Our final harvest today brought a lot of veggies into the kitchen. For dinner we had the chickens we raised here throughout the summer stuffed with our root vegetables and served with a fresh-from-the-garden salad.

Many hands make light work...

New Mexico News

2011-07-29T11:42:00.006-04:00

Trying to grow food in the high desert keeps one busy. I have only been here a week, but it seems like at least a month.

Here is a taste of our recent harvest projects (vegetable and animal):

photo credit to the peerless Ellen Madden, who also appears in the photo below

more soon...

Backyard Garden News

2011-07-12T11:32:00.005-04:00

After a few weeks of strong growth, the cucumbers might be on their way out due to a full-on assault by squash bugs...

But luckily the okra is coming on:

And the watermelon (the vining plant covering most of the garden at ground level) looks poised for a brilliant summer finale:

(Food) Independence Day

2011-07-04T11:28:00.003-04:00

A few weeks ago I looked at the old sweet potatoes on my counter and decided that I would just stick 'em in the ground in the hopes that by fall they would grow into a whole bunch of sweet potatoes. I recalled my grandma's story about how every year as a child they would spend the morning of the Fourth of July planting a field of sweet potatoes and then in the evening the whole family would take a picnic - complete with watermelons - out to the cool spring-fed pool in "the ol' river swamp."

So, even though their sweet potato fields were a few hours south of here - hence warmer - I thought I would repeat this Fourth of July ritual just for fun.

Hopefully they will produce before it gets too cold this fall. Being on the roof should help: it gets full sun and is surrounded by lots of concrete and metal.

But more than just a sentimental ritual, I also think that planting (and hopefully harvesting) food on the Fourth of July might be one of the most meaningful ways to celebrate independence; with all of the lobbyists, governments, and corporations trying to shape what you eat, a heaping helping of food independence is pretty radical!

Volunteers Abound!

2011-07-01T07:57:00.005-04:00

This past spring we started a re-design of the rooftop gardens which will be completed in the fall. The green roof itself is one of the oldest in the area and is still performing admirably in the "not leaking" category. But the soil was really compacted so amending that was one of the first tasks. In the process, seeds from the compost sprouted all over the roof and we now have a veritable forest of volunteer edibles. The melons are probably the most striking:

But I also really like the purslane:

Considered a weed by most Americans (commonly called pigweed), purslane is also a delectable edible. It is ridiculously healthy and can be steamed, stir-fried, eaten in a salad...Most botanists argue it originated in India, and many purslane enthusiasts claim it was Gandhi's favorite food.

Gather wild edibles responsibly, by checking out lots of reputable sources.

Weather Update

2011-06-23T20:20:00.004-04:00

As the tired cucumber leaves indicate:

It's hot 'round these parts!

Opportunity, Montana ?

2011-06-18T08:41:00.009-04:00

Towards the end of my recent sojourn in Montana my dad and I took a brief detour through the town of Opportunity, Montana.

How could you not? At one level, there is the initial touristy reaction: "Oh, isn't that ironic, and so quaint? A small town in the middle of nowhere called 'Opportunity'." But if you are, like me, uncomfortable with the voyeuristic tourist gaze it doesn't take long to come up with some interesting, albeit often unsettling, questions. I guess I am especially sensitive to this issue because, having lived in rural places for most of my life, I think that the tendency to romanticize the countryside does more harm than good.

I haven't done the research, but my guess is that the town was named in the mining era - and the cynic in me hypothesizes that bankers and real estate speculators were the ones to give it such a unique appellation. Sort of like the naming of Greenland. But it doesn't take long to recognize that something not-so pleasant is going on in Opportunity. Most of it has a lot to do with the long history of mining in the area. The photo here is of smelter stacks from the also intriguingly-named Anaconda Mining Company.

And here is an aerial of the enormous Superfund clean-up site, where tax payers pick up the tab for the opportunities enjoyed by corporations and their government supporters:

But in addition to the Superfund cleanup and toxic waste ponds that delimit Opportunity, I want to suggest that there is more to its problems than that: it is a rural place in modern America. As such it is depopulating; simultaneously romanticized and villainized; largely forgotten; economically depressed; environmentally dumped-on; all-in-all, it is definitely not the land of opportunity.

But this is not a rural issue. In fact, I think the way that "rural" and "urban" have come to be dominant categories for ordering modern reality is itself a large part of the problem. There is a strong tendency to think of "the urban" and "the rural" as separate entities or opposite poles when in fact they are immanently connected. For instance, we tend to think of homelessness as an urban issue, yet in many cities most of the homeless are displaced from rural areas (which are even more woefully under-served than cities). Homelessness is better understood, then, as a social issue, not an urban one. In this way, and many others, the urban/rural distinction obscures the full dynamics of phenomena and often contributes to divisive politics.

And in closing yet another example from Montana. Driving down the highway not an hour from Opportunity, we passed a billboard that read: "Before meth I had a daughter. Now I have a prostitute." Rural communities across America are struggling with the meth epidemic just as urban communities struggle(d) with crack. The differences are not important, in fact they only obscure the central similarities: both drug problems are the result of an unjust distribution of political and economic power, a lack of opportunity.

Immigration and Agribusiness

2011-06-17T11:27:00.017-04:00

With the incredibly restrictive and some would say unconstitutional anti-immigration law poised to go into affect in Georgia soon, the state's large-scale farmers are all in a tizzy. They claim that they have already seen a drop in "available labor" (meaning people willing to work in difficult conditions for the little they are willing, or can afford, to pay). The US still has incredibly high unemployment rates - and believe-you-me south Georgia is no exception to this rule - so there is obviously more to this labor "shortage" than is commonly allowed: it is a shortage of willing laborers under the given conditions. The painful irony here as it relates to immigration and economy is that many of the same people who are anti-immigrant (whether "legal" or otherwise) are also the ones who support the free trade policies that force people to come to the US as low-wage/no-benefit immigrant workers.

The (commercial) farm lobby is strong here in Georgia and has exerted significant pressure on conservative governor Nathan Deal, who deserves the moniker goober-natorial if anyone ever has. Witness this excellent example of political-speak, where he explains the rationale (perhaps there's too much credit in that last word, but it will have to do for now) behind his new plan to put prison parolees in the farm labor positions recently vacated by intimidated immigrant workers:

"I believe this would be a great partial solution to our current status as we continue to move towards sustainable results with the legal options available."

In addition to the illuminating oxymoron of a "great partial solution," his statement also manages to work in that key buzzword: sustainable. He is really pulling out all the rhetorical tricks on this one. In the full article I read, the paper also reports that many farmers have had to let crops rot in the fields. Illustrating the sense of entitlement long-enjoyed by large-scale growers, one Georgia farmer intones that:

"We've got to come up with something. There's no way we can continue if we don't have a labor source to pull from."

This guy clearly illustrates the tight-knit relationship between government and agribusiness: he expects to have the government create a pliable labor source, and goober Deal is politically-liable if he doesn't fall in step. After the farm lobby pulls off this political coup, they will slap each other on the back and continue to talk about how independent they are; then they will resume their campaigns to resist "government interference," which is what they call government action when it doesn't benefit them: minimum wage laws, environmental regulations, and other similarly "socialist" efforts. There is an unavoidable parallel here to the rhetoric employed by southern planters in the post-emancipation American South who complained that the government had to do something about the recently-freed black men and women who refused to work for white planters.

Don't get me wrong, I hate to see the crops rotting in the fields, especially with people going hungry all over the world (including south Georgia). But no one in the farm lobby (or their pocket) has even broached the real solution to the perennial fear of farm labor scarcity: improve farm labor conditions! There is not enough time to get into the minutiae here, but it is quite obvious that agriculture needs serious reform and this episode only highlights that farm labor conditions must be at the top of the list.

In more uplifting food politics news check out this audio clip: 93 Dollar Club. The thing I like most is that it highlights the importance of grassroots organizers: those who take the initiative to create change instead of relying on the sham of electoral politics, being immobilized by inevitable challenges, or becoming deterred by the impenetrable formalities of government bureaucracies.

Big Sky Summer

2011-06-14T22:44:00.008-04:00

I'm at a food and agriculture conference in Montana. Here is a brief summary so far:

If I weren't worried about offending my Georgia readers who have been sweltering in the dog days of summer for a while now, I would point out that the highs here in Montana are about 65 presently...but that would just be rude.

When the conference ends, my summer begins. More updates soon.

Climate Change

2011-05-31T15:46:00.003-04:00

I just went to a really interesting talk about the politics and realities of climate change by Patrick Bond.

I wanted to share this link to a short video about the fundamentally problematic nature of "cap and trade" or carbon-trading schemes:

The Story of Cap and Trade

The basic argument is a strong, yet simple, one: market solutions cannot solve market problems. It is safe to say that this argument is applicable well beyond the issue of climate change. Check out the other interesting videos on the above link...

Summer on the Roof

2011-05-26T12:25:00.005-04:00

Now that the dust of spring semester has settled we have gotten some seeds started on the roof of the Geography department. It is pretty cool growing vegetables on a roof surrounded by atmospheric science equipment and curtained off by the tops of trees.

Every time I go up on the roof I am reminded of how much urban space is planted in ornamentals that could be growing food (especially somewhere like a university campus). I mean, Bradford pears (a fruit tree that was developed by USDA scientists to, paradoxically, not produce fruit) are one of the most common planted trees around these parts. What's up with that?

Hightower Highlights

2011-04-26T17:35:00.003-04:00

Hightower put on a good show last night at the Melting Point. While speaking specifically about efforts to put in high-speed commuter railways in Georgia, his largest point was that coordinated and sustained citizen action was required in order to achieve economic equality, social justice, and any semblance of real democracy. As would be expected, his stump-speech was peppered with hilarious down-home humor with a message, like the slogan of his neighborhood hardware store: "Together we can do it yourself." Just a few of the best:

"You don't have to be in 'Who's Who' to know what's what!"

"Some people want to label 'agitators' unpatriotic. I remind them that the agitator is that central column in a washing machine that gets the dirt out."

and my personal favorite, "Status quo is latin for 'the mess we're in'."

For more of his thoughts, click here

It's Hightower-Time!

2011-04-24T15:35:00.004-04:00

Jim Hightower, a populist activist of the stump-preaching tradition who once said, "There's nothing in the middle of the road except for yellow lines and dead armadillos," will be speaking in Athens at the Melting Point tomorrow night - Monday the 25th.

Hightower is a former Texas state politician who has long argued forcefully (and humorously) for an American democracy that is less captive to the interests of "big money." He will speak Monday night about efforts to rebuild Georgia railroads, and the event will be preceded by a volunteer work session and a public forum.

See this recent Flagpole article for more info.

Springtime Seed Swappin'

2011-04-16T11:55:00.004-04:00

Collecting and swapping plant seeds is a skill and practice that has largely died out with the rise of commercial agriculture. In many cases, seed (bio-technology) corporations have successfully lobbied law-makers to make collecting seeds from cultivated plants illegal - a conception of intellectual property which clearly favors corporate interests and also suggests the extent of the commodification of nature. For some thoughts on the far-reaching consequences of this see Kloppenburg's classic book, or this website.

All that said, there are still people who collect seeds. But networks of seed-traders are increasingly important due to the decline in collectors, and later this month outside of our very own Athens, GA is a sure-fire seed swap. It has been running for many years and we are trying to increase the number of participants and exposure to this important practice, so come on down and check it out! There will be all kinds of fun to be had in addition to learning about seeds: home-made cider; live music; good food...

Voices of the Landscape

2011-03-26T16:24:00.003-04:00

Requests from my dedicated readers (thanks, you two!) for a revivified round of blogging have been as rousing as the calls for a Lee Greenwood encore in Baghdad...

Though my energy has been focused on schoolwork recently, I have been planting some vegetables and planning for some cool projects so the posts will resume soon. Until then, check out this interesting article...

Resilience

2011-01-17T10:09:00.005-05:00

A week after our big winter storm and we still have a decent amount of "wintery mix" on the ground. I had let the last of my fall vegetables go, thinking they would die off over the holidays. Though showing some obvious signs of damage, they are still chugging along. With a little pruning they might turn out just fine.

Resilience. A fitting theme for a day set aside to remember the struggles of the civil rights movement.

Coffee: A Miracle of Nature?

2010-12-31T11:16:00.010-05:00

This morning, I took my copy of Raymond Williams' The Country and the City and went to a coffee shop downtown to read. I first came across Williams' writings while working on a master's in environmental history, a field which has made good use of his reminder that "the idea of nature contains, though often unnoticed, an extraordinary amount of human history."

The Country and the City also starts with this recognition and explores the way that the idea of Nature is used to describe the relationship between rural and urban places. Most obviously, he traces the tradition of claiming that the countryside is more natural than the city, a tendency which stretches back for many centuries. Williams' main point is that this comparison, which he sees as largely superficial, obscures important connections between country and city.

As I left the coffee shop where I had been reading, I walked through downtown and passed a Starbuck's. In the window was a sign: Once a bean traveled the world to find you here. This immediately struck me as interesting, and I puzzled over it as I walked to the crosswalk. Why had Starbuck's chosen this odd message? What does it mean? Why did I even notice it, and why was I thinking about it? I guess the Madison Avenue folks were successful at one level.

I decided to read the sign as Raymond Williams would, and I think doing so explains a lot. The choice of the "traveling bean" motif is by no means inconsequential. This framing draws on an extremely long history of portraying "the bounties of Nature" as productive in and of themselves (Williams illustrates this through pastoral literature that speaks of wild game and other foods literally presenting themselves for the feast). In the modern Starbucks version, the bean finds you. Why do Williams and I care about this pastoral myth? Talking about coffee (or anything else) as if it were solely a miracle of Nature obscures the much more important fact that the beans had to be grown, harvested, handled (and on and on) by real people in real places. In the pastoral feast myth, the bounty of Nature obscures the harsh exploitation of servants, field laborers, and environments. In the Starbucks bean myth, the idea of a bountiful Nature obscures every moment in coffee capitalism, which can be just as problematic as feudalism. Its worth repeating: "The idea of nature contains, though often unnoticed, an extraordinary amount of human history."

The point is not, necessarily, that we should never drink coffee, but that we should be much more attentive to the ways in which foods (and goods in general) come to be. Though it may look like it, Nature did not bring itself to your plate.

Collaboration

2010-12-08T21:53:00.007-05:00

Our service learning class recently finished a collaborative article that was published in The Flagpole, Athens' independent weekly (the article explains why I posted a photo of a girl watching chickens peck around inside a cage in downtown Athens). Working with 20 people to produce a short piece for the general public was a refreshing change from solo academic writing, which I am entirely absorbed with at the moment. But the most important collaboration is the one which the article points to: the Athens Food Activists Networking Session. This kind of grassroots engagement is what democracy is all about, the public, broadly writ.

My 15 Minutes

2010-11-10T09:28:00.006-05:00

So, there happened to be some reporters along on the farm tour I led last week, and a friend of mine called early Sunday morning to tell me that the stories were hot off the press. The tour made the front page of the Oconee Leader (although, it came in third behind stories about Veteran's Day and Halloween celebrations). Fame...so bittersweet.

While the online story reported that I "waxed poetic about the virtues of organic farming" (which might be a bit of an over-statement), the paper edition honed in on the most deserving, and respected, subject: "Loki, Van Sant's dog, ran and romped throughout the tour, and was rewarded for his energy and antics by numerous hugs and lots of petting, especially from the middle school students."

Who could blame 'em...?

All Flesh is Grass

2010-11-04T20:54:00.011-04:00

For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man {sic} as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away. - Peter 1:24.

I am always in Georgia when the desert cottonwoods turn yellow, but luckily the seeds we sowed in mid-August are doing well. My good friend Mike sent me this photo from our summer basecamp in New Mexico recently. The vegetable beds are near the fork in the road, and the cover crops ne withereth pas!

Farm City Tour

2010-11-02T08:39:00.006-04:00

Late last week I had the opportunity to lead a tour of the Farm 255 vegetable operation, which was arranged through the Agribusiness Committee of the Oconee County Chamber of Commerce. As it is mostly between growing seasons, it was a good opportunity to talk about crop rotation and cover crops.

Judging by the number of questions, there was lots of interest in the farm-to-table model and organic growing in general. Several people said they would go try out the restaurant, and I sent a couple of wide-eyed youngsters home with some eggplant for the frying pan (or baking sheet, or grill-top, or sauce pan, or...)

Thanks to Thomas Verner for organizing the tour and providing the above photos

Newtown Florist Club

2010-10-12T22:03:00.008-04:00

Today I went with some peers from our service-learning class to the Newtown community of Gainesville, Georgia. There we met with some of the organizers of the Newtown Florist Club, a group of area residents who have been working for decades (actually, over half a century) to improve the living conditions in their neighborhood. They have recently organized a community garden campaign, and we were there to see the project, hear their stories, and help them with some planting.

Built in the 1930s, Newtown was a working-class, African-American neighborhood on the south side of Gainesville. In the 1950s, large industrial manufacturing facilities moved in next door: Purina, Cargill, and a junkyard. Both of the corporations have repeatedly leaked toxic substances into the air and soil of Newtown.

The Florist Club started out as a group of housewives who would collectively care for neighbors in need, bringing food, flowers, helping with chores. They soon noticed that illness was increasing, and in a particularly common guise. Over the next few decades doctors confirmed that clusters of cancer and lupus were present in abnormally high levels in Newtown. The organizer we spoke with today was a founding member of the Florist club in the 1950s at age 18. She lost her sister, brother-in-law, and a niece and nephew (both passed away while in high school) to cancer or lupus.

The Newtown Florist Club has accomplished a lot in their neighborhood, but as they suggest, there is much more work to do. I am proud to have put in some time working with such an earnest group this afternoon, but am sobered by the thought that there are lots of "Newtowns" out there. What did I learn in school today? Responsibility for preventing and improving "Newtowns" does not lie solely with those who are daily affected by the problems.

Shout-out to Nik Heynen for the photo

Charleston, SC

2010-09-06T21:19:00.005-04:00

Though I was tempted to go to both the UGA football home-opener and my good friend's dove shoot, I took advantage of the long weekend to go down to Charleston, SC and do some preliminary field research. I am thinking of writing my dissertation on the history of food and agriculture in the Charleston area and wanted to do some brain-storming.

In short, it was a great trip. I stayed with old friends, made some new ones, ate lots of good food, met some folks in the local-food scene, toured some farms, had a few ideas, and am thoroughly excited to continue on with my plans to research there. They have some huge live oaks around those parts...

And the growing season is so long, the fresh tomatoes just keep coming:

Gone Urban

2010-08-25T10:24:00.007-04:00

Turn the protagonists of Alan Jackson's hit, "Gone Country," on their heads and you've got me: A country kid who has adopted urban life for a while. He's gone urban, look at them flip-flops...or something like that

But the great thing is, I can still grow food. As a part of a service-learning class in the Geography department at UGA (my new academic home), we are growing vegetables on the building's green roof. The class, Athens Urban Food Collective, explores issues of hunger and political economy here in Athens through traditional classroom learning and community involvement.

This picture is from a few years ago, but it should give you an idea of the space. It's pretty wild, actually, going from the wide-open, often desolate, desert to a rooftop garden on a sprawling university campus (note the assorted atmospheric science equipment in the background). After setting foot on the roof, I can't help but imagine okra springing up through concrete fissures all over "the classic city". The possibilities are virtually endless...

While I will no doubt continue to yearn for the rural agricultural landscapes, I am looking forward to growing food in the urban realm. Its also pretty nice to leave class or my office and go up on the roof for a quick amble through the vegetable beds.

Closing Time

2010-08-16T12:12:00.005-04:00

My summer in New Mexico is over. In a few minutes I will walk out of my new house and swim through the Georgia humidity to my first class as a PhD student. Quite a change from what at the time seemed like it might be an endless summer in the desert. That reference, conveniently, reminds me of my favorite quote of the season: at lunch one day, my good friend Andy told someone who prematurely cleared the table that they were "putting an end to my endless summer".

This year, I cleaned all the plants from the fields earlier in an effort to get cover crops better established than we did last year. The window of opportunity at 7,500 feet slams quickly with the first frosts coming in a few weeks. Below are some photos from our final harvests.

Ambiguity

2010-07-29T18:02:00.010-04:00

The word of the day is ambiguity. The two most memorable events of the past week or so reinforce my belief that its important to be able to accept ambiguity; to recognize that many things are not black or white, true or false, good or bad.

First, we recently finished the fence.

Nearly everyone commented on how nice it looked; how ordered and neat; or how clean and established. My initial impression was the same.

But I also have to admit some lingering unease, too. As the guiding concept of landship suggests, I think the long-standing trend towards privatization has come with serious costs. And fences go hand-in-hand with these changes. Fences, at best, can be aesthetically pleasing and functional, yet they can also be divisive and exclusive.

The tour of the Farmington agricultural extension fields was even more ambiguous. Those who readily criticize extension agents would have been disarmed by the obvious passion the agents showed for agricultural research.

Critics might also be surprised to learn of research directed towards small-scale growers and nutritional health of local populations. But, then again, there were also agents like the herbicide specialist. The most charismatic and vocal scientist at the experiment station, I would also nominate him if there were a poster-child for all that is wrong with the extension service. He introduced his corn research by indicating the weeds and stunted growth in the control plot. Then he simply regurgitated the equally-stunted logic of the chemical companies: if you don't use herbicide, your productivity will suffer a reduction of 75%. This is not a surprising argument to hear from herbicide corporations, but from a government official entrusted with serving farmers and the general public it is essentially dereliction of duty. The problem with his stance is several-fold: there are myriad other ways to decrease weed pressure that don't involve herbicide (under-sowing; mechanical cultivation; etc...); weed pressure doesn't always compromise crop growth - it can even be beneficial; lastly, defining agriculture narrowly as large scale mono-cropping neglects what are arguably the most exciting and thoughtful trends in his own field. Rounding out his reactionary politics, he explained to the crowd his belief that the Gulf oil spill would be cleaned "if it weren't for environmentalists protesting all the best solutions." The problem with black-and-white logic such as this is that it denies any room for ambiguity. It fails because: all "environmentalists" don't think the same; there is no consensus from any camp on ways to remedy the catastrophe; finally, solutions for a crisis as far-reaching and complex as the oil spill will have trade-offs that are just as complex, so there is no clear-cut "best" solution. Very few things are truly black-and-white. To proceed as if they are is like trying to dissect a hummingbird with a golf club. The task calls for a more subtle and precise tool.

Canyon Farming

2010-07-22T12:16:00.005-04:00

This afternoon the basecamp cook and I are taking off on a desert food and agriculture tour, complete with a visit to a NMSU extension field day in the appropriately-named Farmington, NM. Before I leave, I wanted to post briefly the highlight from my most recent trip: Canyon de Chelly. The canyon area is a hodgepodge of public and private land, the bottomlands being largely owned and farmed by Navajo families.

The bottom of the canyon was amazing: protected, verdant, and wet. Still harsh, to be sure, but one could easily see why people would choose to inhabit the bottomlands. The most interesting thing to me about the farming methods was that, from above, one could see that the fields were layed out to catch the snowmelt that cascades off the rim in the early spring. The dryland techniques developed in this area involve planting seeds deeply (8-12") immediately prior to spring rains and run-off. The seeds germinate quickly with the flood of water and the ground stays moist at the deep planting depth most of the growing season, even with virtually no rain.
The one major drawback to settling in the enclosed bottomlands is that you would be vulnerable to floods and pillaging neighbors. To solve this, the ancient peoples simply built shelters into the cliff walls. Awe-inspiring is the only word that comes to mind.

California or Bust...?

2010-07-20T21:08:00.007-04:00

Back in New Mexico after an aborted roadtrip to California, I now have the nervous habit of testing locks for their ability to unlock prior to entering a bathroom. That's right. My virgin voyage to California was derailed by false imprisonment in a state park outhouse. The view from the canyon rim was nice, but unfortunately I couldn't set my gaze on it from the outhouse.

If you have ever been in a desert latrine you will understand that I was as concerned about the ailments I might catch from the swarming flies as I was worried about again seeing the light of day. After pounding on the door for 15 minutes, some ATV'ers eventually drove up with a toolbox and were more than happy to help me destroy state property. They took the pins out of the hinges on the outside of the door and I then kicked it down from the inside. In that brief moment as boot struck metal, I not only secured my reentry into the world but also relieved my claustrophobia-induced anxiety.

This brief detour through the outhouse was not to be the final hurdle on my journey, however. Car trouble struck my accomplice and I near Flagstaff, AZ. I decided to call the ill-fated perambulation to an end, boarded a Greyhound bus and headed back to Thoreau and the known variables of my growing operation. Despite the shortened trip, I could still notice change in the vegetables. Farm update soon...

The Thunder Rolls

2010-07-09T20:26:00.006-04:00

We finally got a soaking rain yesterday afternoon. Clouds threatened all morning and around four o'clock in the afternoon they finally let loose with their sweet, sweet nectar.

The crops have responded already. I firmly believe that rain is better for plants than irrigation; they do, after all, derive from entirely different sources. Gary Nabhan finds in his studies of traditional agriculture in the Southwest that many "old-school" farmers in this most arid of environments don't consider groundwater to be true water. Water falls from the sky.

July Happenings

2010-07-06T21:37:00.003-04:00

I pulled my sleeping bag over my head this morning as I woke up. In those first fuzzy moments I tiptoed on the border of sleep and wake, but soon jolted up off my bed when I realized that I never have to pull the covers up for extra warmth unless it is close to freezing. I got down to the thermometer near the crops at about 6:30; it read 35 degrees. I feared this meant that a few hours earlier it had been 32.5, if not less...
We spent the rest of the day hauling ponderosa pine timbers out of the hills for a fence around the main plot.

After dinner I walked through the plot and found what I feared: frost damage on the young zucchini sprouts. Frost on July 6th. A light and patchy frost, but a frost nonetheless.

As a farmer, you have to learn to shake your head and chuckle at most of the bad luck and undesirable news. If you can't do that, you won't stay in the field for long.

Whenever I needed to laugh today I just dug up my favorite fourth of July memory: While waiting in line for a funnel cake, I saw a woman with a shirt on that read "Land of the Free, Home of the Awesome". 'Nuff said

The Desert Smells Like Rain

2010-07-03T10:43:00.004-04:00

As you can see, the rainy season has started here in the high desert. Over the past week we have had showers dancing across the horizon almost daily. It has resulted in only thirty minutes of rain, though, as most of the clouds skirted our perimeter. I read recently that the Papago Indians - who hail from what is now the US/Mexico borderland - refuse to talk about the likelihood of a rain shower, seemingly because of the kind of unpredictability we have been experiencing recently.
Despite the fact that most of this rain has side-stepped our crops, they are really starting to take off. The few showers have helped. It is warmer at night now, around 45 degrees on average. The occasional clouds are providing a little respite from the scorching sun, too.
Tomorrow is the 4th of July rodeo in Grants, NM, so I must go take care of last minute chores...more soon.

Challenge and Celebration

2010-06-18T16:02:00.006-04:00

The nine days since my last post seem more like nine weeks. I have had a lot of help from co-workers getting transplants in the ground, and as I sat down to write this I was tempted to write a post about the miracle of seeds and the blessings of many helping hands.

A post of that celebratory nature would not have been ill-founded, but I also want to make sure that I air the challenges of this venture as well as the rewards. Many of the transplants were battered senseless by the 40+ mph winds that swept through our fields for days on end. Those not entirely swayed by the tsunami of air had a rough time coping with the three nights of frost which followed each day's barrage.

So, I will replant, direct seed more than planned, and coddle the surviving crops as best I can. I have descended from the apex of optimism - or perhaps brash confidence - to the realization that a hoophouse is necessary for the prime summer vegetables here in the high desert. In the meantime I will mulch heavily, deploy row covers with reckless abandon, and pray that June 18th marks the beginning of summer this year in Thoreau.

Photo credit to the peerless David Altman

Brief Homecoming

2010-06-09T11:39:00.007-04:00

After a week of living in relative isolation in the desert, I flew back to Georgia for my sister's wedding. It was an amazing trip: friends, family, smiles, and of course, good food and drink. The homebrew pictured above turned out to be plenty drinkable. Jami and Brad made it through all of the chaos with admirable calm and are now sipping umbrella-shaded drinks in the Caribbean; Congrats!

Collard season or tomato time?

2010-06-02T18:32:00.007-04:00

When I first showed up at basecamp, I was anxious to see how the beds fared over the winter; but I was even more interested to see the compost pile. It looked dark, felt fluffy, and smelled sweet; a homeopathic xanax for the young farmer's soul. We immediately got it spread and incorporated into the vegetable beds. Even in the desert, it helps us to retain moisture without getting soggy. A solid foundation for the plantings to come.

Even though things look good, I am never completely confident about the upcoming season's success. "Marginal" is the word that I think best describes conditions for life out here in the high desert. Most things grew well last year, though, so I work on faith and a little experience.

I have previously been tempted to define this time of year in the same way that a climatologist would. Temperamental, possibly "wet," and windy; all this suggests spring. But yesterday morning when I checked the thermometer at 6:30 it read 26 degrees. The mercury then rose 10 degrees every hour so that by noon it was a sizzling 80 in the sun. Even though there is no humidity, 80 can really fry because at 7,500 feet there is so little atmosphere to dampen the intensity of the sunshine. The early morning was ideal weather for cool season crops: carrots, lettuce, collards. By noon it was tomato time. To me, it was like cramming a whole year into one day: winter at night; a brief spring in the mid-morning; grinding summer all afternoon; and a glorious fall about dinner time.

Needless to say, this makes planting choices quite difficult. My conclusion is that one must hedge their bets here. Plant lots of varieties, in several different plots, at staggered times. Be prepared to lose some, but make sure to learn from your mistakes. Constantly tinker.

On that note, I should get back to work...

Notes from the Desert

2010-05-29T15:13:00.004-04:00

I had four alarms set to go off yesterday morning. The first at four AM and one every five minutes thereafter. I actually woke up without them at 3:58, jumped into my truck and headed to the Atlanta airport. By 9:30 mountain time I was in Albuquerque, ready to start my summer farm gig – well, after a few more hours of sleep I was ready. Flying is usually an exhausting experience for me, but the perspective one can achieve from a window seat thousands of feet above the earth is unparalleled. Truly astonishing feats of engineering, the center pivot irrigation commonly used for commodity crops in the American West and other arid regions also seem quite alien from this remove.

It was 88 degrees and there were a few afternoon showers as I shopped for supplies in Albuquerque. Several of the locals that I spoke to commented on how humid it had gotten recently. I would have offered a good-natured, albeit slightly prideful, laugh at their low tolerance for humidity but my lips were already cracked and my throat singed close from what was for me the driest weather since I left the desert nine months ago. I'm definitely not in Georgia anymore, which this time of year is settling into a predictable pattern of warm, humid, and oppressively breezeless days followed by only slightly cooler and less humid nights. I was greeted by a sunset sandstorm yesterday in Albuquerque and as I drove out of the Rio Grande Valley up two thousand feet in elevation to the continental divide, I was blasted by a brief hail storm and 40 mph gusts of wind. The low tonight here at basecamp is supposed to approach freezing. I'm looking forward to my second spring of the year; a whole 'nother round of sprouting greens!

Buy, Buy, Blah...

2010-05-19T10:11:00.007-04:00

At the risk of turning Landship into a broken record, I feel compelled to revisit the issue of consumption as it relates to local and sustainable agriculture.
I recently picked up the Spring 2010 iteration of "The Dirt," the newsletter of Georgia Organics, which brandishes as if a bullhorn the headline: "Buy Local, Buy Sustainable, Buy Often". The article praised growers for developing innovative ways to tweak the CSA model to meet "consumer demand". "Kroger and Publix better watch out," warned GA Organics director Alice Rolls, apparently without any awareness of the irony that this trend indicates: CSAs and local agriculture in general are being forced by "consumer demand" to follow the models which they initially sought to overturn.
I am obviously a supporter of efforts to develop local and sustainable agriculture, but this headline - "Buy, Buy, Buy" - is indicative of the ways in which we tend to valorize consumption in a movement that is ostensibly aware of the dangers of consumptive lifestyles. Again, I don't mean to say that we should not buy anything, not support local farmers, or grow all of our food ourselves; I just want to suggest that consumption can never be the main platform for a meaningful solution to our food and agriculture woes. It seems too many people are content to support local agriculture largely through minimal and comfortable lifestyle changes, like shopping at a farmer's market instead of Kroger.
I just don't want local food to go the same route as that great green panacea, recycling, which encourages everyone to "buy often" and not think about it afterwards.

This photo was taken at a slow food event and, to me, the Hummer t-shirt suggests the continuity between "mainstream" lifestyles and "alternative" local ones: the engines of both are consumer demand, branding, and identity construction rooted in consumption

Asparagus

2010-04-21T16:07:00.004-04:00

Oh yeah, its asparagus season too...

served with only the freshest spring garlic:

Seeds and Weeds

2010-04-20T10:17:00.021-04:00

If there is anyone out there frustrated with the lack of posts recently (and I'm not sure there is), I can only say, "I have been busy". Kind of lame, I know, but true. We are still in a gradual planting phase, but have had plants in for long enough now that weeds are starting to become an issue. So, as we continue to sow seeds, we must also keep on top of the weeds (and the water, and the pests, and the growth patterns; we do general assessments daily now). We are using new tools now and watering frequently. We should probably start harvesting kale, chard, and collards Friday morn.

Ode to the Panfish

2010-04-06T12:36:00.005-04:00

O, panfish
you fill my pan
with butter and lemon
you taste good to this man

O, panfish
you are so neglected
right below the foodies
you swim undetected

But O, panfish
do not fret
our many dinners together
I will not forget

Many Hands...

2010-04-02T15:42:00.011-04:00

You know the rest..."make light work". And how true it is; we busted out another row of tightly-planted veggies before noon today.

I ate the first asparagus of the year last night and the first panfish two nights ago. We continue to plant away as the mercury soars past the 80 degree mark on the first few days of April.

Right now, it seems we might skip over spring and skid directly into summer, like some kind of nightmarish ride on a sweat-soaked slip n' slide. I believe some of my friends and neighbors will be rudely awakened with more cold weather, though. I actually bet my friends over at Local Okra a pint of Terrapin that it will get below freezing again sometime in early April. I feel it in my nearly 30 year-old bones! (Actually, I just wanted to use that expression; I still feel quite spritely at 29)

After today's work, I broke ground in the hoophouse, making room for the plantings to come (after we get the plastic on, of course).

Planting!

2010-03-25T11:37:00.005-04:00

The long-awaited day has arrived. After deconstructing, moving, and rebuilding a farm we have put the first vegetables in the ground. We have an amazing duo of skilled planters (thanks Olivia and Laura) who showed the ropes to the hard-working intern/apprentices Jared and Andrew. We planted leeks and beets in a five-row wide, 115 foot long bed (seen below) and broccoli in two rows along another 115 foot bed. That will be a lot of tasty food here pretty soon. This afternoon we will put in the remainder of the transplants - about the same amount of cabbage, chard, and kale.

Progress

2010-03-20T19:20:00.009-04:00

The place we are growing has not been farmed in the past four years, so it has required a lot of infrastructure work - tearing down old structures, building new ones - essentially farm design. This kind of work is really quite enjoyable, whether demolition or construction it is tangible and immediate. In concert with the el nino weather, though, it has delayed the commencement of our ultimate work: growing vegetables. We recently got some starts that will be growing in the ground soon after they harden off. Almost done preparing beds.

Photo credit shout-out to Jared and Olivia

Flip the Birds: "One Hell of an Idea"?

2010-03-18T09:57:00.007-04:00

The obviously disinterested and civic-minded Chris Cunningham, president of Wife Saver chicken restaurant, has recently launched what he describes as a "moral" movement to bring Georgia out of its economic woe. The over-worked and underpaid editorial board at Landship Foods is always excited to hear reform ideas from the state's brightest minds, so I was anxious to taste what this successful entrepreneur had fried up.
His idea is as simple as the name he gave the campaign - "Flip the Birds": He proposes removing the brown thrasher (which Cunningham richly claims is "inedible, lazy, and migratory") as Georgia's state bird and replacing it with the Cornish chicken. (Yes, that would be the same breed that Cunningham serves up for a greasy profit in his restaurant chain). According to Cunningham, lots of people have told him this campaign is "one hell of an idea"!
While his questionable claim that "Flip the Birds" is a moral campaign that will reinvigorate the Georgia economy deserves examination and rebuttal, I will leave that for others. I am after bigger game; specifically, the idea that the Cornish chicken is an animal that we would like to promote as a state symbol. As UGA poultry science department head Michael Lacy puts it, "The Cornish chicken is used by poultry geneticists to make the stock that is the modern broiler." The modern broiler, of course, is the chicken raised in those huge, stinking, metal sheds that dot the impoverished Georgia countryside. The modern broiler is the chicken that is so genetically-manipulated for "maximum feed-conversion" and unearthly breast size that it often can't walk, even if it was allowed out of its cage. Among other breeds, I have raised small flocks of Cornish hybrids on pasture. I don't anymore, though. In addition to not being a very tasty breed, Cornish-derived breeds are not good on grass because they are so dependent on pelletized feed. They don't really know how to hunt the insects that crawl, squirm, and worm under their feet. University geneticists and Tyson economists have bred not only the wild but also the animal out of the Cornish. A hyper-engineered, top heavy, dysfunctional animal; sounds like a great state symbol to me. While we're at it, lets add Anna Nicole Smith to the ballot. Now that's "one hell of an idea"!

In addition to getting territorial about my state bird, we have been making some progress out in the vegetable fields recently. Check back soon for photographic evidence...

C.C. Law and his Dung-Heap

2010-02-19T10:10:00.018-05:00

I can but express the opinion that the touch of politics in agriculture brings with it contamination even to the dung-heap.
- C.C. Law, "Proceedings of the Interstate Convention of Farmers," 1887

With style that only a 19th century planter could muster, C.C. Law made the above argument against government regulation of the blossoming fertilizer industry. A South Carolina planter, Law was concerned regulation would lead to a dangerous alliance between fertilizer companies and government bureaucrats that would drown the interests of the farmer. His words attest to the depth of American skepticism towards government, an attitude that most today would likely admit to sharing at some level. I want to get beyond this position by pointing out that if Law and his fellow planters had worked towards an agriculture rooted in more local sources of fertility they would have been able to better mitigate bureaucratic interference.
The 1887 Interstate Convention of Farmers took place as many American agriculturalists, especially Southern planters like Law, were increasingly looking towards new commercial fertilizers like super-phosphates and guano to maintain maximum production for the global commodity markets. This move was a crucial step towards the contemporary dependence on large-scale importation of distant inputs. As is still the case with most global trade, transparency and trust were thrown out the window for ease and efficiency. It might be easier to get a bag of manure shipped to you than to scoop it oneself, but it is much harder to know and trust the content of the former. Lacking neighborly relations, the new agriculture that Law promoted unwittingly necessitated "the touch of politics" that he so feared.

Wal-Mart, Local Food, and the Politics of Consumption

2010-02-15T14:21:00.062-05:00

A recent article in The Atlantic suggests that Wal-Mart might help "save the small farm and make America healthy". That was no typo: Wal-Mart. The author, Corby Kummer, points to the corporation's "Heritage Agriculture" program which aims to stock supercenter shelves with produce from "local" farms. He also quotes some higher-up blue-smocks as saying they want to "revive local economies and communities that lost out when agriculture became centralized". (Insert sardonic guffaw here)
Kummer compares Wal-Mart to Whole Foods throughout the article, which culminates in the "grocery smackdown" - a blind taste-test between the two at an upscale Austin, TX restaurant. The results: Wal-Mart fares at least as good, if not better, in taste and freshness. Kummer closes with a lament that most people can't buy direct from the farmer or grow their own and seems to believe that Wal-Mart is the next best option.
I am interested to see how this all plays out, and am open to the idea that Wal-Mart's market power could be wielded for good. Though admittedly skeptical of their conversion, I am not writing this post with the intent of adding my name to the long list of "Wal-Mart haters". Nor am I writing to belabor the inadequacy of measuring local food merely on scales of taste and freshness - hopefully most readers know that local agriculture runs much deeper than the palette. Rather, I want to point out that Kummer's line of reasoning reflects the limits of several strands of green politics, those based on a politics of consumption.
By this I mean a political agenda that is largely rooted in buying: buy local, buy American, buy fair trade, etc... I believe, of course, that recognizing and utilizing our power as consumers is important; but to think that buying is the most effective way to achieve change is at best short-sighted, and at worst lazy. Kummer's analysis is firmly tethered to a politics of consumption, as evident in the central question of his article: Will Wal-Mart or Whole Foods lead us to a more healthy, agrarian America? This strikes me as a ridiculously limited, indeed, a self-defeating question. Why start by ceding leadership to a business? Democratically describing a better future is difficult (Kummer suggests this future is one where more families can source direct from farmers or grow their own), but after we do so the best way to get there is through community action and legislative reform - not by plodding through the check-out lines of Wal-Mart or Whole Foods.

2014 Olympics: Atlanta?

2010-02-13T11:13:00.001-05:00

For those of you who thought I was exaggerating about our "cold" Georgia winter, evidence of last night's storm. The snow started to accumulate in the late afternoon, so by happy hour the conditions were ripe for an epic snowball battle. I enjoy a good dusting as much as anyone, but it seems that this will likely postpone our plantings even more...
While the world's best winter athletes sit around waxing their skis and sharpening their skates in balmy British Columbia, the deep South is blanketed in snow. Perhaps in 2014 Atlanta will claim the mantle of first city to host both the summer and winter Olympics. I've been training for the biathlon, just in case (and, no, my new-found interest has nothing to do with this year's Canadian women's team )!
Support the biathlon babes from our neighbors to the north by purchasing their promotional calendar here

Frozen-Ground Blues

2010-02-10T15:53:00.000-05:00

Apparently, my writing died off as did my farming. Well, there is this little number that I composed during our January cold snap:

I got them frozen ground blues
Yeah, the fields are covered in ice
I need a thick-soled pair of shoes
Lawd, I got them frozen ground blues

We are experiencing a cold and wet winter here in Georgia - just as the el nino experts predicted - but the days are thankfully getting longer. This spring I will be working with a solid crew here in Athens to grow vegetables for a local restaurant that cooks up some seriously good food (Farm 255). I am starting to prepare for the early plantings, which entails cutting down trees and plowing new beds since we are growing on a farm that has been largely fallow for the past few years. In addition to this excitement, I am eager to resume the public agricultural diary that is Landship Foods. I'll be brainstorming on the backporch in the meantime...

Full Circle

2009-09-07T12:55:00.001-04:00

It was a real gut-buster closing down things in New Mexico for the season - largely because the tiller broke and we had to prepare all the beds by hand - but things are in good shape. I left the peppers and tomatoes in because they were still producing. They will be tended and eaten by friends and neighbors of the Gulch. Pulling up and composting the vegetables lent an air of finality to the season, but this feeling was shortly replaced by one of excitement for the plantings to come, as the compost from this year's crop residue will be a crucial boost for the soil in the spring. Last night as I read Wendell Berry's essay, "A Native Hill," the following passage reinforced my contentment at this point in the season:

The most exemplary nature is that of the topsoil...It increases by experience, by the passage of seasons over it, growth rising out of it and returning to it, not by ambition or aggressiveness. It is enriched by all things that die and enter into it. It keeps the past, not as history or memory, but as richness, new possibility. Its fertility is always building up out of death into promise.

As I look back on the season, cataloged here in the blog, I notice they mirror each other in an important way. Fittingly, both the work and writing begin and end with well-tended compost as the central subject, as "richness, new possibility".

The Paradox of Small-Scale Agriculture

2009-08-26T20:28:00.001-04:00

I am obviously a supporter of efforts to improve modern agriculture, under whatever label: organic, local, traditional,... I think it important to qualify these distinctions at times, but sometimes I get tired of those conversations and just boil it down to scale: I think agriculture must before all else be responsible, and this is easiest when done at a reasonable scale. All this said, I think most responsible agriculture also faces its own paradox of scale.

Small scale agriculture, although loudly opposed to the globalization of food, is in many ways itself a global system. Even in extremely "local" situations, where food is grown right outside of town and you pick it up yourself, there is often a significant "industrial" and "global" component. How can this be so? Most "small-scale" vegetable production in America today is a 21st century variant of mixed husbandry. Mixed husbandry as it was practiced in, say, 18th century New England, was the practice of setting aside different parcels of land for fodder production, vegetable production, grazing, and wood harvesting. As Brian Donahue shows in his masterful book The Great Meadow, when implemented wisely, this could be a very sustainable practice. Essentially, the animal manure provides the fertility for vegetable production. Of course, small-scale and "local" vegetable growers of today must also amend their soils to maintain its fertility, and most of them use organic methods. Just as in 18th century New England, animals are often the best sources of organic fertilizers. Most farmers (and backyard organic gardeners) today, however, order bags of bone meal and blood meal or bottles of fish emulsion. These amendments are exactly what they sound like: the by-products of industrial animal processing. Thus, most local, small-scale vegetable farming is indeed a global system of mixed husbandry.

I know this because the farms I have worked on and visited in Georgia do so, and the same goes for New Mexico. When I started planting here this summer, I thought I was faced with the choice of using synthetic fertilizers, blood meal and fish emulsion, or just not planting. I have never been a purist, so I chose the organic fertilizers. They were affordable, but using them made me uneasy. When one realizes that these by-products are inexpensive for the same reason that the products are (mainly industrial "efficiencies"), they might seem less attractive. No doubt they are a better choice than synthetic fertilizers, but how much better? I am still unsure.

I insist that I am not being impractical or overly-rigid, however. I just think it important to ponder this matter. Really, this question reminds me of the history of recycling in America. As Susan Strasser shows in her book on the subject, Waste and Want, recycling did not begin as a reaction to the waste of modern consumption, but actually provided the raw materials central to the birth of many industries. In the same way, it is not entirely accurate to see local and small-scale agriculture as a form of production outside of, or entirely counter to, the larger industrial and global system. It is just as embedded in the global, industrial era as it is a reaction to these trends. Local agriculture cannot escape its historical moment, and we must come to terms with this.

Does all of this thinking get us anywhere? I think so. I think it highlights the importance of using all of our near-by resources, even if it is "organic" and affordable to do otherwise. It is ridiculously easy to buy a gallon of fish emulsion and spray it on your plants, just as easy as getting a bag of 10-10-10. But just as the price on the bag of 10-10-10 does not represent the true costs of the fertilizer, the affordability of the fish emulsion does not represent its true cost either. For an agricultural system dependent on cheap industrial animal wastes is only slightly more stable than one dependent on cheap fossil fuels. Perhaps the best answer is to work hard to source local manure, and then work even harder to compost it well. If your plants still aren't growing fast enough or big enough for the "local" market demand, raise the price instead of lowering the standards.

The Business of Farming

2009-08-21T23:17:00.000-04:00

As I mentioned in the last post, I have been selling the excess produce recently in an effort to recoup some of our initial start-up costs. Engaging in the "business" of farming has been a great, but unanticipated, buzz. Initially, I enjoyed farm work because I was working with living things out in the sunshine; I was doubtful that I would tolerate, much less enjoy, the economics of a small farm. I have never been into balancing check books, filing receipts, or haggling for the best deal; the minutia bores me stiff. I came close to enjoying this new kind of economics. So close, in fact, that I gave myself a scare, similar to the feeling I get when close to the edge of a cliff. Granted, it has been fairly easy. The markets virtually found me. But more than that, I think I enjoy it because it is so direct and tangible; it genuinely feels like a mutually agreed upon arrangement that represents the value of the work done (which, if I remember my freshmen economics, is the supposed situation for all exchanges in a free market). I am not part of the "national food system." I am dealing with someone face-to-face, and that someone then sells it to, or exchanges it with a member of the local community. At most, there is one person (who I meet weekly and know on a first-name basis) between the grower and consumer. How could any arrangement made up of more distant or convoluted relationships possibly approximate a reasonable value for the complexities of human knowledge, care, and labor?

So I am learning that perhaps I am not inherently averse to economics and marketing, but am only turned off by it when it seems distant and abstract, when it aims to quantify and evaluate in a way that is seemingly bereft of human values. Here, we would do well to remember Aldo Leopold's admonition that, "We can be ethical only in relation to something we can see, feel, understand, or otherwise have faith in." (Leopold, A Sand County Almanac). I believe Leopold would agree that this sentiment applies just as much to human communities as it does to natural ones.

Reflecting on the business of farming brings me to an important point about the culture of American agriculture. One barrier to change in the American food system is the common association between today's efforts and those of the 1960s counterculture. Many Americans who were, or still are, turned off by the counterculture - whether for its antagonistic politics, youthful idealism, or some other cultural divide - remain hesitant to rethink the way we grow and eat food. Many Americans who stand to gain from it promote the idea that today's alternative agriculture is the same as that which started in the '60s. This claim could not be more deceptive. For one, the 1960s and '70s efforts to change the food industry were not uniformly naive and idealistic. Some who took up farming became excellent stewards and growers. There were, however, plenty of abandoned projects and outright failures, and the overwhelming tone was one of antagonistic reaction instead of inclusive progress (for more, see Belasco, Appetite for Change).

The local, organic movement of today hews much more closely to this latter ideal. And, as I have been trying to show, there is nothing inherently countercultural or anti-capitalist about it. At its most successful, it is not reactionary. Its goal is not to be radical, but - in direct contrast - to be commonplace. And, even though it envisions "alternative" economic arrangements (like CSAs, commonly-held land, co-ops, and buying clubs), it is not rooted in an anti-capitalist impulse. Small-scale agriculture is about decentralized entrepreneurship, which is a cornerstone of capitalism's appeal. In many ways, American agribusiness (sometimes called "conventional" agriculture, even though it is relatively new on the scene) is much less of a free enterprise than today's "alternative" agriculture. The barriers to entry are so high that only a handful of Americans can give it a shot. And government subsidies are so influential that our food markets are clearly not free markets.

American agriculture is changing. Its direction is not entirely clear, but it is obvious that there are plenty of new farmers on the scene. They are young, well-educated, and energetic. Often, the most successful ones are creative when it comes to acquiring rights to farmland, and to developing markets. Beyond general know-how, these may be two of the most important skills for the small-scale farmer of tomorrow. The new agriculturalists must be entrepreneurs. The good news is that you don't have to be an expert in the beginning, because land and market opportunities abound. You just have to keep your eyes and mind open.

Warning: Blatant Self-Promotion

2009-08-18T14:44:00.000-04:00

Things have changed a lot around here as the season draws to a close. Most all of the staff have left; The corn is ripening; I am selling excess vegetables; I have torn out many of the crops and am starting to sow cover crops. Like most times of change, it is both exciting and slightly unnerving. Although I am moving back to a great place and community in Athens, I am leaving behind a group of peers and a landscape to which I have become enjoyably accustomed. In addition to closing things out here, I have been preparing for the return to Athens. Paying bills and arranging a start date for my "day job" spurred me to think about what else I can do to fill the days (and the bank account). I decided that I really want to get a side project going installing kitchen garden plots. It will be a great way to continue the work I have enjoyed so much out here, and fall is a great time to get a garden started. So, if you or anyone you know might be interested in having a plot designed and installed, just comment here or send me an e-mail (leviv@uga.edu). There will be a non-promotional post soon; stay tuned.

Ronald McDonald is Whistlin' Dixie!

2009-08-09T19:16:00.000-04:00

Even out in New Mexico, McDonald’s has been ravenously promoting their line of “Southern-style” foods. If you are like me, your initial reaction to this was one of guttural disgust: “Who the hell do they think they are, claiming their fare is ‘Southern’?” A valid question, indeed.
It seems that the world’s largest peddler of corn and soy-derived “food” isn’t concerned about justifying their claim to Southern culinary traditions. The promotional website for their “southern-style” chicken sandwich doesn’t broach the subject. Instead, it hails their latest offering as “a fantastic relay team of perfectly seasoned, lightly breaded all white meat chicken, topped off with two pickles and served on a steamed bun.” So there is nothing particularly “Southern” about their sandwich. No surprise there. Why do they even bother calling it a southern-style chicken sandwich then? It seems to me that they are appropriating the image of “down-home Southern cooking” – food that is good for the soul – in an effort to assuage any apprehension that passing motorists might harbor about eating fast food. They are trying to give their placeless and faceless, mass-produced product a pedigree. McDonald's wants to, and needs to, “place” their food, and they have chosen the American South. A brilliant (and profitable) strategy, no doubt, but one that offends my sensibilities.
The irony of a placeless commodity being called “Southern” is not very useful, though. As my graduate school advisor always reminded us, irony has limited potential for productive thought. So, the more I thought about this recent addition to our fast food nation’s menu, the more I came to realize that McDonald’s was not so off-base in calling it Southern. The chicken in most of their sandwiches was likely grown in the American South; north Georgia and Arkansas produce the vast majority of industrially-grown chickens. (See Steve Striffler, Chicken and William Boyd, "Making Meat") And Southerners make up a large portion of McDonald’s customer base; the South as a region consumes more fast food per capita than any other. (www.aae.wisc.edu/fsrg/publications/conference/Marsh_Fanning_Stiegert.pdf) Although these are not the reasons Ronald chose to claim his new sandwich as “Southern,” they do suggest that McDonald's is largely representative of modern Southern cuisine. Perhaps, then, we should not resent McDonald’s appropriation of “southern-style” food, but instead work harder to make the Southern landscape one where industrial chicken farms and harried drive-by meals are not the norm.

A brief update (8/24): A cohort of mine from this summer has returned home to New Jersey and sent me this photo from an area White Castle. It seems they have chosen the American South as their newest place theme, too. Sin and salvation smothered with a corn-syrup sweetened barbecue sauce...yum.

Realism and Romanticism in Local Agriculture

2009-08-06T11:26:00.000-04:00

The day we have all been waiting for: a guest posting! Venus Bivar, a good friend who I met at an environmental history conference, is working long hours at a community farm near Chicago this summer. She is a proud Canadian, hence the ridiculous spelling; Americans know that there is no “our” in labor. Here it is:

When I tell people that I'm volunteering at a farm this summer in order to supplement my PhD research, they understand completely. Many even compliment what they see as my dedication to the field of study - stretching my research into the realm of practical knowledge. When I tell them, however, that I'd like to give up life in Chicago in order to devote more time to farming, they assume that I am hopelessly naive about what farm labour entails and about what life in the country is "really like." They call me a romantic. Let's forget for a minute that I actually grew up in the middle of nowhere and that after a summer of volunteering as grunt labour, I do have a sense of what is demanded of both the mind and the body. Let’s forget all of that and start at zero.

I took a five year-old to the farm last week and she loved it. She ate peppers and green beans straight off the plant and when told that she could eat anything we were prepping for pick-up, her jaw dropped to the table, and she immediately shoved her face full of kohlrabi. For a kid who ordinarily veers away from the unknown when it comes to the vegetable kingdom, seeing her devour a whole host of items she had never even seen before made me realise that being involved in the labour process necessarily changes our attitude towards food and the work required to produce it. She was totally innocent of the romantic musings of adulthood. She simply ran through the fields, rode a tractor, learned how to identify a ripe cucumber, and took it all in with unadulterated joy. She made me realise that some people simply like to farm. They like the work - in the same way that some love to litigate or perform surgery. Why the former are charged with romanticism and the latter are not says more about how detached we have become from our food supply than it does about those doing the supplying.

Maize: Commodity, Vegetable, and More

2009-07-30T15:13:00.000-04:00

Corn has been at the center of much of the recent debates in global food politics. Some argue that corn alone will feed our growing populations, while others argue that its largest impact will be in the "credit" column of corporate bank ledgers. Obviously, corn does neither of these two on its own, but only in conjunction with the actions of humans and, at another level, a host of environmental factors, like bacteria, wind, sun, and worms. Corn does, however, contribute some remarkable qualities: vigor, adaptability, genetic malleability, and culinary flexibility. To this list of ethically-neutral characteristics, I submit an undeniably positive one: at this point in the season it allows for a shady, late-morning siesta. Viva la maize!

Desert Festivals

2009-07-21T00:14:00.000-04:00

I read somewhere recently that we are mistaken to think of rain strictly in a utilitarian or functional sense; it is also a festival. This applies to life in general, really: we should try to balance our more goal-oriented thinking with a general appreciation for experiences. Even though the delirium-inducing heat of the Southwest summer has set in for good, it has been easy to recognize the festivals recently. The crops are generally responding with vigor to the sun; we have finished off most of the early, leafy greens. Last week we roasted a whole hog from a local pig farmer (one of the best food festivals I can imagine). In preparation for the pickin', I wore out a chain on the Stihl and went to the only place in Thoreau that sells chainsaw equipment, Johnnie's Inn. You may think this sounds like a strange name for a Stihl dealership, and it would be if Johnnie wasn't a multi-tasker, but he also sells liquor. An interesting combination of merchandise, for sure. I have been busy pruning and trellising the flowering tomatoes; and today we butchered a "small" elk that was injured in its confrontation with a speeding vehicle. It is strange to call a 500 lb. animal anything other than "monstrous," but it was a young bull that would have more than doubled in size. We will have a jerky festival soon...

Happy Birthday, Nation...!

2009-07-07T12:59:00.000-04:00

...as Stephen Colbert would say. It is interesting commemorating the birth of one nation (the US), while in the midst of another (the Navajo nation). On the 4th of July, we went to the rodeo in Grants, NM and then lounged underneath the fireworks launched by the Bluewater volunteer fire department. There seemed to be little open concern with the complex and tragic history that the creation of these nations shares. Perhaps holidays serve to bring out a general mood of celebration. But it is also likely that many of the Navajo, like many other Native Americans that I have known, prefer to live in the present. Like people everywhere, they dislike many of the labels outsiders assign them. A Jemez Indian that I know once told me (without my prodding) that he hated the term "indigenous". He identified as Jemez, New Mexican, American, or, most often, just Mike. Perhaps this reflects the fact that Native Americans have too long been treated as subjects to be isolated, studied, or mythologized. Even at our most well-intentioned, many non-Indians do this. Using over-simplified ideas of Native American ethics and practices as a way to critique the problems of our modern society is perhaps the most common (for more on this see Shep Krech, The Ecological Indian: Myth and History). These narrow and generic understandings of "authentic" and "traditional" Indian societies, even if meant to glorify, deny Indians the right, not only to speak for themselves, but also to just be themselves.
Instead of lamenting the loss of some mythical, "traditional" past, perhaps this Independence Day will challenge us to employ the lessons of history to strive for a better future. Who knows, maybe the rodeo cowboys will read this and be inspired to recycle their celebratory Busch Light and compost their steed's excrement.

Two Springs

2009-06-27T23:05:00.000-04:00

Yes, I have had the experience of two springs this year. I left Athens, GA as "fans-with-open-windows-at-night" season began. When I showed up in Thoreau on June 2nd, it was like turning back the climate clock to February in Georgia time; so I repeated spring in another place. Sure, there were differences, but there were also the common defining elements: lots of temperamental rain, spurts of vigorous growth, and chilly nights. Also in both places, fried squash blossoms and minutes-old bean sprouts - the delicacies of a thrifty seasonal cuisine. And on one fine afternoon in New Mexico's Cibola National Forest, the peach toss - a Gulch staff tradition (See Nate, at right).
Spring. Not a bad season to repeat.

Side-projects

2009-06-24T22:42:00.000-04:00

In addition to the main plot, we have put in three other small ones that are down the slope and closer to the trickle of water that is Sawyer Creek. I am using them as "experimental" plots for the future, basically. We are using some of the traditional subsistence techniques of the region (ollas, swales, waffle gardens, and heirloom varieties) in these smaller plots. One plot is not irrigated and we planted it with a dryland corn variety which a Navajo co-worker of mine says (from experience) will be fine without rain (Note to self: remind corn farmers in other places about this). The photos show a different plot where we put in a swale to capture runoff. The swale has a Zuni bowl - a small pool - built into it to slow the water before it hits the plants.

Swine Flu Blues

2009-06-23T22:28:00.000-04:00

Admittedly, spending hours crouched over in the sun can be an uncomfortable task. But, for me, that is generally outweighed by the immediate and delayed rewards of germinating radishes and savory carrots. Fieldwork also provides time for reflection. Witness my buddy Josh, at right. When I took this photo, he was marinating on the merits of soil carbon cycling as an indicator of ecosystem health. The other day, I was reminded of a story I heard on NPR shortly before moving out here. The reporter was explaining the effect that a swine flu-inspired border closing would have on the labor supply (and, hence, economic bottom-line) for many large American farms. He suggested that crops could rot in the fields due to restrictions on migrants traveling north from Mexico. The story concluded on this note of unsettling concern. While the report recognized the tenuous nature of a global agricultural system, it failed to notice the irony of lamenting a shortage of immigrant labor in the midst of a national unemployment crisis. Although unemployment levels had dominated news reports, congressional concerns, and the national psyche for months, the reporter apparently didn't connect the two stories. It seems that, for many Americans, agricultural labor is not even an option, not viable work. This is not all that surprising, considering most Americans have (a) never planted a seed, and (b) never worked under conditions like those of the large farms to which this reporter was alluding. I hope the demand for local and sustainable food will continue to rise, and will thus support farms that serve as models of how agricultural labor can be rewarding and viable, instead of de-humanizing. In the meantime, I hope some people who need work heard that NPR story and knocked on the nearest farmer's door to ask if they were hiring.

Vince the Plumber

2009-06-22T12:15:00.000-04:00

One of the great things about being so remote is that it encourages thrift and resourcefulness. Since the late 19th century, the Gulch has been the site of a logging camp, potato farm, and, for the past 70-odd years, an expedition basecamp. So there are plenty of piles to scavenge through; old coffee cans, barbed-wire, toilet seats, and canvas tents abound. But recently we had to call on Vince, a friend of our auto mechanic, to solder a leaking faucet that we couldn't fix any other way. Since it was his day off, we figured that Vince would be wetting his fishing line just a few miles down the road at Bluewater Lake. We were right. Vince said he "wouldn't leave the lake early for anything," but promised to come by at dark on his way home. This gave me plenty of time to go pick up a 30-pack of Keystone Light - the understood exchange for Vince's labor. Actually, an 18-pack would have sufficed, but we still owed him from a previous job. True to his word, Vince showed up at dark and fixed the faucet. In between turns of the wrench and blasts of the acetylene torch, he offered his thoughts on our education system, which teaches English - "something you already know" - instead of something useful, like plumbing or electrical work. Vince made quick work of the faucet and headed out, happy with his Keystone Light. Thoreau has probably always had a tight cash economy, but like many places which share this trait, beer is a widely-accepted (and sometimes preferred) currency...check out the vegetable progress.

Microclimates and Diversity

2009-06-15T15:44:00.000-04:00

So, it has frosted the past two nights now, and the squashes, cucumbers, and tomatoes are showing the effects. You may ask, “Why were you not prepared for this?” Good question. I could have at least tried covering the rows. Well, I had checked the weather forecast and it predicted a low of 39 degrees, so I didn't bother. Was the forecast that far off? No; I'm sure it was in the high 30s somewhere nearby, but our vegetable garden got down to at least 32. Another decisive and instructive lesson for the neophyte: weather conditions here can vary drastically in places only a few hundred feet apart. It's the kind of lesson that can only be learned from spending significant time in a place. Working the land in that place makes this kind of education much easier, because the stakes are higher and the lessons more emphatic. The microclimatic variation might surprise many visitors to the desert – as it obviously did me – but it mirrors other diversity that I had noticed. The Southwest has Hispanic, Native and Euro-American histories, which weave a colorful cultural tapestry. The region has sage flatlands and aspen-ringed mountains, often within a few miles of each other. Most people cruising by on their way from California to Texas can't wait to get past Thoreau because it looks stark, desolate, and monotonous. But if you slow down, get off of I-40, and walk the slopes, breathing the desert air, you will see that there is much more to this place than just empty space. The New Mexico desert is diverse.

Dry Winds

2009-06-12T17:41:00.000-04:00

I wanted to post often, and I have already neglected to do so. The winds have so far been the surprise challenge. 20-30 mph gusts during the day, coupled with the occasional light frost at night make life hard for young vegetables (and migrants from the South, too). Lew Wallace, a New Mexico territorial governor in the late 19th century and author of Ben-Hur, once wrote that, “Endeavors based on experience elsewhere are doomed to failure in New Mexico.” His words speak to me today with as much insight as they did for his audience of 19th century westward migrants, despite the fact that I know much of my historical predecessors' experiences. I can consciously avoid most of their follies, but steep challenges remain. Apparently the mule deer at right faced some steep challenges as well. There has been tenuous progress, though.

In the beginning,...

2009-06-02T18:48:00.000-04:00

...God (and billions of invisible microbes) made compost. I guess today marks the official beginning of the farm-to-table project. After a long day of travel yesterday, I arrived in Thoreau and was greeted by both our alfalfa-farming neighbor, Jeff Carver - who rode up on his John Deere 6400 - and Chris, a semi-driver. Jeff disked the field and Chris dropped off 30 cubic yards of premium compost. A great start, and lots more to be done tomorrow...