We’ve had our first freeze, and most of the leaves have fallen. Last week we had our last outdoor market of the year at Grandin Village. So the peaceful quiet of winter is looming, and that silence gives room for reflection and rumination. I came across, and then incorporated into my weekly fresh sheet, this quote the other day, and I’ve been chewing on it ever since:
“With the demise of cheap oil comes the evolution of artisanal, resilient, biological agriculture. This evolutionary step is not far away; it’s just around the corner. It’s up to us to reinvent the noble profession of farming. We have not only the choice to do things differently, but the means as well.”
These words come from the pen of Jean-Martin Fortier, purveyor of les jardins de la grelinette (the gardens of the broadfork) in St-Armand, Quebec. He’s a minimal-till market gardener and author of one of a few micro-farm bibles in my bookshelf, The Market Gardener: A Successful Grower’s Handbook for Small-Scale Organic Farming.
What first struck me about this quote was the cyclical nature of the human experience that he’s pointing out here. He’s talking about biological agriculture as a new step of evolution, but this isn’t the first time man has been at this intersection before. The motives for cultivating the land responsibly to generate food may have changed slightly, but biological agriculture dates back at least 10,000 years to the Neolithic Revolution. Over the last century we may have lost our way, but that represents a small blip on the timeline of our species. And the course correction back to stasis could be equally quick.
The cohesiveness of the community of small-scale farmers is evident in JM’s gentle call to action. “It’s up to us,” he says, “to reinvent the noble profession of farming.” Whereas a year ago, this appeal may have lofted over my head, as I didn’t count myself among the “us”, today it strikes me with a sense of pride. I am by choice a participant in this process of reinvention. And I do indeed see small-scale agriculture as a noble profession: producing and providing nourishment to your friends, family, and neighbors. And speaking of reinventing, I think this little farming business of mine is being newly designed on a regular basis. If you would have told me this time last year that one of my best-selling items would be dill pickles, I’d have scoffed at you. I don’t even love pickles! But my customers do, and going into the winter market season, having shelf-stable products to offer your patrons is invaluable. Over the last six weeks or so, I’ve spent at least a half day every week producing some sort of value-add: chutneys, pickles, ferments, apple butter. Tomorrow I’m going to try a salted caramel apple butter, and I have a feeling it, too, will be a hit. Our first winter market is this coming Saturday, November 17th in the CoLab from 10am-1pm. Come on by and start your holiday shopping off the local way!
Thumbing again through The Market Gardener, not only do I find JM’s words to be poignant in new and different ways, I also see the scribbles in the margins that I made the first time I read through the book about a year ago. I see in my notes what I thought Garden Variety Harvests would be and while I was right on target with some things, it’s amazing how quickly some of these early assumptions changed. I wasn’t always making calculated decisions as much as reactions to market forces, weather and other inputs. For instance, Fortier mentions that a detailed crop rotation plan, specifically for a new farm, often can amount to a waste of time. “You can get away with planting anything anywhere for your first season or two,” he writes. I spent at least 50 hours creating a crop rotation plan before spring came. And the last time I looked at that rotation plan was at least six weeks ago; I stopped following the plan with any dedication in June. Crop rotations became a very read-and-react task as the season wore on. I should have heeded this advice the first time I read it.
Fortier is right to state that we have the choice and the means to make calculated decisions about how we’d prefer to treat our Earth and cultivate our calories. And choosing to build thousands of localized food webs across the country will be hard work. It’ll take individuals electing over and over again to walk the road less traveled for decades to get where we want to go. But we have a chance to create a legacy this generation can be proud to pass on to the next stewards of the land.