Travels on Farms

I'm getting prepped for a big week of inspections. That's what I get paid do. I inspect stuff. Not just any stuff though. Organic farms. Organic food processors. Organic cows. Okay, and steers and goats and sheep and and and.

I like saying "and and and." It reminds me of the movie The Committments, and watching that in college one night at by buddy Matt's house with him and my other buddy Michelle, and we each had our own bottle of Boone's Farm wine. Bad wine, but good times, man. Good times. Too cool that "Outspan Foster" now has a Oscar.

Anyhow. This big inspection trip. I'll be out in the part of North Carolina that's commonly called the "High Country" for a week. It's up in the mountains around Boone. Gorgeous country. These are some of the highest mountains in on the east coast. In some places, the farms still use mules because it's actually easier than tractors, because some of the fields can get pretty steep. Most of the farms that I'm going to visit are between 1 and 10 acres, growing a pretty wide variety of vegetables. Most of the folks doing the farming have lived on and farmed the land for at least 20 years, and in some cases, are the second or third generation that is tilling that land. These are strong people, who live close to the earth, don't ask for much, don't have much, and love what they do. They don't farm organically because it's the thing to do right now. They don't do it because they'll get a higher premium for their crops. Of course they will, but they've been farming like this for years, premium or no. They do this because that's how it's done. This is how their parents and grandparents taught them to farm.

The smaller communities in the High Country can be pretty insular. They're wary of strangers, probably because far too often, people come from elsewhere and tell them what they're doing wrong, without any respect to the history and traditions of the area. They're doubly wary now because so many land speculators are coming and trying to grab up mountaintops to clear cut and build multi-million dollar homes for folks that will only live there a month or two each year. They're afraid of losing their way of life. They're afraid of being taxed off the land their families have cared for for a couple of generations. So, the first time I inspected in the High Country, I was nervous. I've been an organic inspector for several years, but I knew that I had to approach these folks with respect; not really delicately, but being able to speak their language, and being willing to learn about who they are and what they do. The second inspection I did was this older gentleman. He has deep roots in the area. And commands deep respect from the farming community. "Oh!" folks would say to me "You're inspecting HIM. Good luck." And I did inspect him. And we had a great inspection. He was tickled to show me his barn, and new cooler, and the beautiful young broccoli he'd planted. And I was happy to stand with my arm shoulder deep in his "compost pile" and say "You know, if this really were getting fully composted, do you think it would be a bit hotter?" And this older farmer, he laughed and laughed at the little girl from the city that would now go home smelling like, well, his compost heap. And he was tickled that I wasn't afraid to stick my arm in a pile of shit and straw and vegetable scraps and talk to him plain. After the inspection, he said "You're okay, little lady. You stop up here and see me whenever you want. My home's open to you." Now, I look forward to this trip every year. I may not inspect this particular farmer every time, but I do try to stop by just to see how he's made it through the past year, and so he can show me whatever new projects he has. I'm leaving Monday morning. And I can't wait to get there.

And for those of you that got sidetracked by The Committments I mentioned up above, here's your moment or two of zen. If you don't know this movie, watch. Egad, this is a great movie!


And this:



Now that's music!