farm to (s)table
for whatever reason—hmm, I dunno, maybe it’s the one hundred degree farenheit temperature—but, for whatever reason, our walk in refrigerator keeps cycling itself off for a much needed breather. good for it, bad for produce.
trust the spirit
for whatever reason—hmm, I dunno, maybe it’s the one hundred degree farenheit temperature—but, for whatever reason, our walk in refrigerator keeps cycling itself off for a much needed breather. good for it, bad for produce.
two amazing things happened today at the backyard moon. first, we were attacked by a mob of city dwelling, country itching "landless, wannabe farmers". crop mob atlanta, an all volunteer production, travels to local sustainable farms and lends a hand in whatever ways are needed. as they explain on their website, farmers are not only an aging population, but a dissapearing one. in the age of gps plantings and oil powered harvesters, less people are needed. but in our world, where hand meets seed and soil, community is paramount. and that is exactly what they provided us with today.
finally, something awesome to do between the hours of eleven thirty and two thirty.
the farm we rented this week has been a highly successful vegetable operation for the last fifteen years--well known by the name backyard harvest. boo, the landowner, and farmer in mention, was the first grower in town to plant the seeds towards developing what is today a bustling farmer’s market scene in athens.
for family reasons, backyard harvest was abandoned just after the climax of this past summer. all the crops, on the entire farm, were left in place, grown to maturity, and died where they stood. nothing was cleared. no plants were pulled. no cover crops were sown to protect the earth from the winter’s cold breath.
weeds grew to maturity, spewing their seeds across our canvas, and choking the top layer of our soil into a dense weedy web. today began the healing process. today was a new beginning for what was once backyard harvest.
let me set the scene last night at the grocery store: a sixty year old lady pushing a grocery cart with three weeks worth of water in it. i'm hearing at the big box store's shelves are literally cleared of all the staples. schools are certainly closed tomorrow, if not Tuesday as well. the busiest flight traffic corridor in the world—atlanta int’l—will come to a hush as four inches of almost instantly melting snow will dust the state of georgia overnight. the mayans were right. the world is ending. only difference is, it’s tonight in north georgia, and it came a year early.
When I first moved down here, it was originally because of a hot lead from brent the butcher, partner behind brooklyn’s the meat hook. he had said a guy he used to work with at marlow and sons had moved down to athens, georgia--and with a kind off odd smile (which I now can understand)--he said, “and they’re doing a lot of cool stuff.” the odd smile no doubt referring the tentacle like, farm fueled behemoth that is our farm's family—two nationally known and talked about restaurants, a local coffee roaster and coffee bar, both a vegetable and meat csa for the local community, and a regional network of small scale, sustainable, and humane meat producers. from the first time i heard about it, i knew i needed to know more...