We all know we should be eating local, organic produce. And we know why: it’s healthier, it supports the local community, it doesn’t get shipped around the world on oil-spilling ships…

But buying local is inconvenient. In order to get what your neighbors are selling, you have to go to the farmer’s market (or—gasp—to the farm itself!) We Americans are creatures of comfort, we work dawn to dusk, and most of us don’t really “do” farmer’s markets. We’d rather go to a big store that has everything we need, so we can spend as little time buying food as possible.

So, most people still buy fruit from South America via Whole Foods. Environmentally egregious? Perhaps, but it’s easy.

Hana Newcomb sorts produce for CSA members at Potomac Vegetable Farms in Virginia

That’s why local farmers came up with the CSA.

It stands for “Community Supported Agriculture”. The concept is simple: you pay a weekly/monthly fee, and get a box of fresh, local food delivered to your door.

Farmers refer to this as buying a “share” of their harvest. The harvest is divided evenly between everyone who chips in for the CSA subscription. If enough people participate, the farm does well and there’s plenty of food to go around. This helps keeps farms afloat, and it gets consumers more involved with their food and their community.

This one’s a no-brainer, kids. CSAs are (usually) affordable; they support local growers; they help the environment while improving your health—and you don’t have to get off the couch (except, okay, to answer the frickin’ door).

The time to act is now! CSA subscriptions are usually sold at the beginning of each year, with priority going to existing members. New subscriptions for the best CSAs can be scarce, and get bought up quickly.

Now, don’t get me wrong: we all ought to be waking up bright and early Sunday mornings, grabbing our reusable cloth bags, and walking down to the neighborhood open-air market to shop. But for most of us, that’s neither possible nor golly bloody likely. So cut yourself a break, sign up for that CSA box, and enjoy a year’s worth of real, healthy, good food with no guilt attached.

You can thank me after the sweet corn and tomatoes start rolling in.

© jessicareeder for Uprooted, an eco/travel blog, 2010. | Permalink | 2 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: community, csa, energy-efficient, environment, farm, featured posts, food, organic, sustainable

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On our way out to Polyface Farm, Margie and I decided to stop off at Potomac Vegetable Farms‘ roadside stand, where Margie buys squash and ‘maters in summer months. We thought it would just be a brief visit, but we were wrong: this farm had a story to tell.

Northern Virginia is a world all to itself. It’s beautiful, in a Monticello sort of way: rolling hills, lush maples, immaculate lawns, stately houses with shaded driveways…

Yes, there’s plenty of money out here, flowing out of Washington along the freeways and metro lines. Wherever it goes, up spring crops of “McMansions“: sprawling, elegant-looking but cheaply-made homes with columns and fountains and circular asphalt drives. They’re designed to make the neighbors jealous—and even as the economy faltered, more McMansions were being erected on every available piece of land.

Including, as it turns out, smack in the middle of Potomac Vegetable Farms.

Hiu Newcomb and grandson Stephen Bradford

   

Hiu Newcomb and her husband Tony moved out here to Vienna, VA in 1970. In their words, this land was “rustic” and “wooded”; the turnpike was a two-lane road. They cleared a small field and began running what would become a very successful ecoganic farm. Before long, it expanded: by the late 1970s, the Newcombs were farming hundreds of acres in three separate counties.

Three decades later, Potomac Vegetable Farm has shrunk quite a bit. Part of that was intentional: the big farm was too much work, so they downsized and kept only the original Vienna plot and a bigger production farm in Loudoun County.

But as suburbia encroached, land values rose and even this little plot became threatened. Developers started poking around, making offers—but the Newcombs always said no.

In an effort to protect their land, Hiu and Tony’s daughter Anna created the Blueberry Hill Cohousing project. A small pocket of modest houses bordered on all sides by greenery, Blueberry Hill was designed to use up the farm’s development rights, thus protecting the land from the suburban zombie invasion.

But manifest destiny will not be denied, and the Newcombs could only hoard so much land. In the late 2000s, a field behind the farm (one of the last undeveloped pieces of land around) was sold to developers.

The piece in front went too, and Potomac Vegetable Farm was divided in two: their new neighbors paved an asphalt road right through the middle of the farm.

Now, Potomac Vegetable Farm has an easement to drive their tractors across that asphalt, so they can access their crops.

Hiu and Tony’s grandson Stephen drove us out to see it: we followed the farm road up past the cohousing circle, blowing through a newly-placed stop sign. There were mud tracks across the blacktop, and workers planting landscaping shrubs scarcely looked up as we trundled through the middle of their worksite.

And there it was, a brave little plot of land where the buzzing of insects was occasionally audible between the construction and highway sounds. In the background, Tyvek-swaddled behemoths loomed—but here in the sunshine, we talked cover crops and irrigation.

There’s a perverse satisfaction in the idea that these McMillionaires might have to stop their Lexuses to let a tractor cross the road. It’s a small comfort, I wondered aloud, but it must feel good nonetheless? Stephen smiled slyly and admitted nothing. He didn’t have to: it was obvious. In the face of all this sprawl, the Newcomb family’s staunch refusal to move is nothing short of a rebellious act.

Still, I wonder how long Potomac Vegetable Farm will be able to hold up “progress”. Their other property has similar problems: several farms in the Loudoun County recently fought construction of a new “megaschool” in the middle of their agricultural enclave.

And so it goes… but for now, Potomac Vegetable Farm continues its mission of good food, land stewardship and education. They can be found throughout the summer selling ecoganic produce in Washington DC, and their CSA delivers throughout the area. Three generations of Newcombs work the farm together, and their wares continue to make a difference in the hearts, minds and stomachs of suburbanites.

Including the residents of that new development, who might even pause to think about where their property came from—while they’re stuck behind a tractor in their driveways.

© jessicareeder for Uprooted, an eco/travel blog, 2010. | Permalink | 2 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: agritourism, alternative, ecoganic, ecotourism, environment, farm, featured posts, gardening, green living, organic, potomac vegetable farm, potomac vegetable farms, sustainable, Virginia

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It was September, and fall was falling: leaves beginning to turn, rains getting cooler, fresh breezes brushing lightly at the corners of the day.

After a long summer in the Northeast, I was ready to head South again. But first, I stopped off in Virginia to see Aunt Margie, her husband Larry, and my dear darling grandmother Helen Lee.

I needed family just now: I’d worn myself out from months of traveling, and wanted desperately to slow down, be around familiar faces, and do some laundry. I wasn’t just physically tired, but soul-weary: could hardly convince myself to get up and write, let alone go out and have more adventures. I’d lost a little oomph.

As it happened, I’d come to exactly the right spot.

Margie and Larry are passionate environmentalists, and Margie told me she’d always wanted to visit Polyface Farm out in the western part of the state. I didn’t know a whole lot about the place, but its name had kept popping up during my travels. In my current state of mind, it seemed more like a chore than an adventure: great, let’s drop in on another random farmer and inspect their blighted tomatoes. I just didn’t have the adventure in me. But Margie did, and for her sake I thought I’d go along.

Turns out, you can visit Polyface Farm any time you like—but you can’t just walk in and take a tour. It’s a working farm, after all. They’re busy.

Guided tours cost a mint, and if you want to talk to Joel himself you’ve got to hire him for a lecture—or as a supplier for your restaurant. But if you’ve got gumption, you can always drive down to Polyface and show yourself around for free. We had gumption, or Margie did. She wrote a note to let them know we’d be coming, added her cell number just-in-case, and faxed it in to Polyface’s office.

Monday morning we hopped in the car and sped off toward Staunton. Once we got on the road, I started feeling more eager. I’d researched Polyface over the weekend, and discovered just how special it was. So this was the place that started everybody using chicken tractors! This was the guy that Michael Pollan had written about in The Omnivore’s Dilemma. This visit might turn out to be a pretty good idea after all.

Nerds that we are, Margie and I chose to read passages from The Omnivore’s Dilemma while we drove. That’s what we were doing: Margie driving, and me reading aloud about pigs, when the phone rang.

That’s Margie, a little later, being attacked by pigs.

Margie answered.

“Hello?

That had been Joel Salatin on the phone. “Come on down,” he’d told Margie, “We’re dressing chickens.”

This is where I started to get real excited. Joel Salatin had called us personally! And invited us to watch him kill chickens! Margie seemed a bit less enthusiastic about the slaughtering aspect, but I couldn’t help imagining the photographs.

Someday I’ll tell you about my “thing” for dead chickens.

An hour later, we pulled into the gravel driveway and parked. It was quiet, so we poked our heads around the main building—and there was a big metal contraption covered in chicken blood and feathers. Chickens had been slaughtered here, but we seemed to have missed the show. I thought maybe we should just wander away and avoid bothering anybody. But there was another car just pulling up, and at Margie’s urging we followed its three occupants into the empty office.

The three turned out to be young restauranteurs, here to see the farm and buy some meat. As we were talking, a documentarian from New York walked up with her big camera. Then Joel Salatin himself strolled through the door. He’d just washed the blood off his arms, and was ready to take them all on a tour of the farm. Margie and I, grinning eagerly and trying desperately to look like we belonged, were invited to join the parade.

What ensued was an hour or two of mind-stretching commentary on agriculture, food politics, animal character (“the pigness of the pig”) and grass management. I photographed turkeys, pet bunnies and got hog slobber on my boots. And in the process, I started to feel inspired again.

It wasn’t just Salatin’s joy and enthusiasm for his work that inspired me: it was also the sense of hope I felt from seeing real, positive, and effective change taking place. My inspiration had been stymied by the citified consumerists of the Northeast’s urban centers, but here in the grass I could see my path again. And not just mine: humanity’s. I started to remember why I was on this path in the first place: to learn from people just liek Salatin, and to spread the word.

Oh god this photo is so dorky but I’m posting it anyway, as proof

Margie’s husband Larry hadn’t come with us, but he’d prepped me beforehand. “You ask the farmer,” he said, “if his methods can actually feed all the humans on the planet.”

The answer turned out to be “yes”. Margie and I left Polyface with several pounds of meat, ear-splitting smiles, and a brand-new understanding of sustainability.

And that’s how I got to visit Polyface Farm and talk to Joel Salatin.

Want to know more? Read yesterday’s post, Joel Salatin and the Future of Food.

© jessicareeder for Uprooted, an eco/travel blog, 2010. | Permalink | 4 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: agritourism, ecotourism, ecotravel, environment, farm, green living, joel salatin, organic, polyface, Polyface Farm, sustainable, tourism, travel, Virginia

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Joel Salatin has been called “America’s Most Influential Farmer” (Treehugger) and “High Priest of the Pasture” (New York Times). A fascinating mix of farmer and preacher, Salatin didn’t just revolutionize contemporary farming methods—he also used his tremendous gift of gab to spread the word far and wide.

While passing through Virginia, I got to hear that gab firsthand at Polyface Farm, where Salatin works his agricultural magic.

Touring Polyface was inspiring enough, but when Salatin himself turned up as tour guide, things started getting really interesting (more on this fabulous bit of serendipity tomorrow). Salatin possesses a rare combination of intellectual agrarianism, down-home humor, vast insight into the relationship between sustainability and production… and once he starts talking, you can’t think of any reason he should stop.

Neither can he.

According to the website, Polyface, Inc. is a “family owned, multi-generational, pasture-based, beyond organic, local-market farm and informational outreach in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.” Salatin goes onto explain: what sets Polyface apart is its “ethic of collaborative interdependence”.

“Some farmers see animals as inanimate piles of protoplasmic structure to be manipulated,” he expounds. “If we treat animals like this, we disrespect humans too.

“There’s an ethic that runs from field to fork… Instead of seeing pigs as porkchops, see them as members of the team and they will then express themselves best on the plate.”

He’s got a point—and though his ideals are poetic, this isn’t just some hippie experimenting with manure. Salatin comes from a line of farmers, and his innovations are so effective that he’s become an agriculture rockstar.

Note: Rockstar or no, eloquent or no, a farmer is liable to be upstaged by his own flock.

These are the happiest, healthiest (and noisiest) farm animals I’ve ever seen. But surprisingly, they’re not roaming free across the land. Instead, they’re kept in controlled areas where they graze for a very specific amount of time before being herded on to the next spot.

unretouched, actual photo:
ungrazed on the left, grazed on the right

As it turns out, free-roaming grazers destroy their own food sources by overgrazing the good spots. Salatin points to the next farm over, where a herd of cows roam over brown hills. Several of them lurk by the fence, stealing bits of food from Salatin’s pasture. His land stays green, even in the current drought, because he lets grass grow undisturbed for weeks between grazing sessions.

“This cycle of disturbance and rest, disturbance and rest, is what I call ecological exercise: stretching and moving the ecology to a new level of expression.”

When Salatin says “expression”, he’s ultimately talking about production. His land produces 5 times as much as the regional average, measured in “cow days” or how much grass a cow can eat in a day. Most farms get about 80 cow days per acre; he gets 400.

Another benefit of Polyface’s methods: no pests, no disease, and no antibiotics. The animals here are healthy and “beyond organic”. How? By relying on the “team” ethic. Here, chickens are not just egg and breast machines: they are pest control technicians, keeping the rest of the farm healthy by eating all the nasty bugs.

Systems like this abound at Polyface. A pair of ducks flock with the turkeys: why? Because when turkeys are young, ducks will automatically protect them from predators. Birds and dogs, rabbits, cows and pigs all work together to keep this farm going, and “when animals do the work, you don’t have to replace things that rust, rot, and depreciate.” Here, the flock takes care of itself, and renews the land in the process. (More on Polyface’s innovative systems in an upcoming post)

“Twenty years ago, I never would’ve thought we’d be here… The exponential increase in fertility has been beyond my wildest expectations.”

that’s a lot of eggs.

So much so, that farmers everywhere are adopting Salatin’s methods. And according to him, every farm that converts doubles its production.

Joel Salatin was profiled extensively in Michael Pollan’s game-changing book The Omnivore’s Dilemma, and has been interviewed in just about every major publication. But by far the most inspiring thing about touring Polyface Farm is Salatin himself. In this time of confusion and strife, it’s nice to hear from someone who’s got a real solution to some of our societal ills—and even better to see that he truly loves his work.

When we get back to the bottom of the hill, I ask him my prepared question: “Can humanity feed itself sustainably using these methods?”

His face lights up. “That’s my favorite question,” he replies, “because it’s so fun to answer. Yes we can. It’s gonna mean a lot of people getting out of their cubicles and back into the fields, but we can do it.”

Amen, hallelujah. Thank you, High Priest of the Pasture.

Come back soon for the semi-incredible story of how I got this personal tour, plus more details on how Polyface Farm’s systems work.

fangrl 4 lyfe!

© jessicareeder for Uprooted, an eco/travel blog, 2010. | Permalink | 4 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: agriculture, agritourism, beef, chickens, cows, ecotourism, education, environment, farm, farming, featured posts, green living, joel salatin, michael pollan, omnivore's dilemma, organic, photography, pigs, polyface, Polyface Farm, pork, sustainable, tourism, video

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