Category: farmers (Page 2 of 2)

Get thee to thine Farmers Market. (It’s for the Children.)

When we moved here nearly 3 years ago, the first thing we did on the first morning in our new town was visit the Farmers Market. I fell instantly in love. Great veggies (we moved in late July, so the everyone had a great spread), the Leaf & Vine had a “Champagne Brunch” which I instantly imagined our life in 10 years and JJ and I actually getting to go, childless. I came to a tent with the Stone’s Throw Market banner and they had Snowville Creamery milk, a farm from the greater Athens-ish area. Swoon. By winter we joined the co-op and came to depend on their organic dry goods, fresh butter, grass-fed meats and free range eggs.

Today I made a quick trip to pick up my 700 pizza crusts I ordered from Mosquito Creek Farm and was saddened not to see that same white tent filled with jams, granola, milk and eggs. The co-op dissolved this past May because the membership didn’t put forth the energy required to move into a new store and grow. While member numbers were high, shopping numbers were low. We were a group of people who believed in local economy and farmers market foods, we just weren’t a group who used our money to show it on a regular basis.

When we don’t buy directly from a farmer, we likely instead purchase from the same group of products. For instance (note this source is from June, 2009. This has likely grown):

This chart is specific to if you tend to enjoy organic “health” foods. If you’re a mainstream shopper, there are a few more.

Source

Even when you buy organic, it seems that our dollars go to support the same major players of our food supply. Even worse, many of the food we see on the lists above get their raw ingredients from sources that utilize one major player of our food system – crops grown from seed via Monsanto. (So, while Monsanto doesn’t “own” these companies, there is a significant interest in the food economy).

Why do we care? Well, some don’t, and that’s fine. But it seems that this major distributor of goods that goes into nearly all of our food doesn’t want to tell us exactly what’s happening at the seed-level. In order to keep things covered, the company is willing to sue the state of Vermont because it’s about to impose a labeling law to give consumers full disclosure about not only what is in their food, but what has been done to their food before it was put in the package.

Apparently Monsanto has more money than the State of Vermont as it seems to be going this battle alone. Previously, Monsanto won a battle over labeling in California in 2012. That time it partnered with some of the above companies for campaign funds – “The “Vote No” campaign’s biggest supporter was Monsanto, who threw more than $8 million themselves into efforts to defeat the measure. Dupont, Pepsico, Bayer, Dow and Syngenta were also big funders of the opposition, each contributing at least $2 million apiece.” (Source)

The amount the grassroots believers had to to use to get the word out? A total of $8 million, against the $45 mil the big companies put forth.

All of this to say, there is a lot of money in food. A lot. I know in our budget we give more to groceries than our mortgage (though, admittedly, we have a below-average amount owed on our home).  But when we decide to spend our money at the grocery rather than the independent baker, farmer or butcher we are giving money to the same people over and over and over. If I believed in their general goodwill and concern for the health of my children and yours, this would not be a problem. However, I tend to believe that the topic of conversation in the boardrooms and laboratories always goes to the bottom line with out much question of “is this proven safe?”

I’m currently buying goat milk for Sir M from a family farm. We facebook each week about when I’ll be picking it up. They give me fresh baked bread and a free dozen eggs, collected that morning, when they have some around. But more than that, when I started giving it to the baby they would message me to ask how the little guy was doing, if he was adjusting well and offered some tips. There is an intrinsic, unprice-able benefit to knowing the person who is feeding and raising your goats.

Buying food directly from growers – specifically ones committed to non-GMO farming practices – is my best attempt to rectify a broken food system. There is too much money and power at play for me to believe that I can simply believe that my interests are being considered.

If you want to hear this from the voice of an analyst, then perhaps consider this:

 

After the rain dance

Few occupations in the world have the built-in position of dependency on God quite like the farmer. When the rain comes, the crops grow. When drought appears, they don’t. But very little can be done to change which of two occurs on a given day or season. Most farmers fret and worry together, filling conversations with what their crops are currently doing and what they need in order to make the harvest worthwhile. 

Dad’s friend, C, no longer owns a rain gauge. “Ever since 1988 I stopped keeping one. There’s nothing I can do to put more rain in it.” 
My eyes just went buggy. 
At the end of the year, when the beans are cut and the corn is shelled, C knows within him that the crop is a direct result of what God did and provided, not necessarily his good work. Don’t get me wrong: the farmer’s job is to get the seed in the field. To make sure the ground is healthy. It’s all preparatory. And then to harvest when the plant is ripe. What actually grows, however, is out of the hands of the farmer. 
C’s rain gauge has changed the way I view an offering. 
Today I read Romans 12, a chapter that I could nearly recite by memory because I enjoy it and it retains a popularity due to the imagery.  “Offer yourself as living sacrifices…” usually comes partnered with the reminder that “living sacrifices can crawl off the table.” Thus we who offer ourselves up to God must continually choose to be there. 
But what if we didn’t put a rain gauge on our lives? What if our offerings – both of our time and talent, but also our checks and support – were a result of the realization that God did something, as opposed to the typical what we have to offer? What if we stopped looking at ourselves and our lives as something that we somehow made good in the first place? 
Later in the chapter, it says (MSG), “…it’s important that you not misinterpret yourselves as people who are bringing this goodness to God. No, God brings it all to you.” When we show up to fulfill our volunteer duties, when we make good on supplying educational bags for poor children, when we do our part to make sure the lights stay on and the pastor is paid, this isn’t our goodness. We might be portraying an element of obedience and faithfulness. But our offering isn’t from our goodness. It’s a reminder of God’s goodness that we even have something to bring. 
I imagine the farmers who for a few years had nothing to offer due to drought. But the year the rains came? He bundles up the first round and takes it to the temple. “See God? This is what you did this year. Thank you.” 
Take that in comparison to the farmer who surveys his crop and says, “Well, God, if you need it, you can have *this much* as I do enjoy coming here and I’d like to see a bigger feast.” 
The farmer without a rain gauge knows that it doesn’t matter how much is in there; what’s important is that God was good enough to send rain in the first place. His offering is a reflection of his gratitude, not an attempt make things right. His offering exemplifies God’s goodness, not his own. 
“The only accurate way to understand ourselves is by what God is and by what he does for us, not by what we are and what we do for him.” (12:3)
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