The differences in definition between dormant and fallow are quite nuanced. I think I’ve gone from dormancy to perking up a bit to a fallow season where all the action was/is beneath the surface.
I could also make it easier and say I did as the French supposedly do and took August “off” from writing this newsletter, which is precisely what I did.
Our 22nd wedding anniversary was last month. Jim and I observed this occasion by visiting some very close friends in Munster, Indiana to celebrate, followed by a few days at Miller Beach in Gary, Indiana to spend time on Lake Michigan. There are many aspects to this particular stretch of beach, which is what I love about it and why I look forward to returning for years to come. It looks like what people might imagine when they hear “Gary, Indiana”, with its factories and industry and smoke and working-classness:
It also looks like what people might imagine when they hear “cabin on Lake Michigan”*:
Occasionally there are some beautiful surprises:
Like most things, Miller Beach contains multitudes.
My attention has been much divided these last six weeks. The garden is truly fallow; weeds abound, and the mosquitos have run of the place thanks to a fair amount of sorely-needed rain. The basil I wrote about so enthusiastically in July has blight; I waited too long to make my big harvest move. No pesto from the freezer in January, I guess. And against my better judgment (and also because my heat/mosquito tolerance is way down), I have not yet started any seeds or planted anything for fall, though I may experiment once we get a bit further into September. I’m mildly interested in seeing how long I can keep salad greens alive in a hacked-together hoophouse setup.
Why? For science, to make up for lost pesto, to keep eating fresh greens. Note to self and maybe a note to you, too, especially if you’re in the midwest or on the east coast: Ask local/regional farmers what their plans, if any, are for fall-into-winter season extension. It’s not a fun topic, but the alarm is sounding about fall/winter produce availability this season and beyond.**
“I don’t want to be flippant, but people don’t understand the food-water nexus. Do we try to bring more water to the southern high plains, to Arizona, to California, because if the food system’s optimized, maybe that’s the cheapest thing to do? Or does agriculture move to where the water is? Does it migrate north and east? It’s not just food production. What about the workers? Transportation? If we were to move all of our agriculture to northern California, into Idaho, into North Dakota over the next decade, that’s a major upheaval for millions and millions of people who work in the ag industry.” -Jay Famiglietti, Global Institute of Water Security, University of Saskatechewan, from an interview with ProPublica
If it's not the way now, it will be. To the hoophouse!
Observations from another farmer’s market season as a peach hustler for Mileur Orchard on Saturdays at Urbana’s Market at the Square:
Yay: More people bringing their own bags; amazing SNAP & SNAP match redemption for fresh produce; people spending money on food and flowers despite higher prices; more small vendors trying new things at the market; shoppers love peach cider donuts; Watson’s food truck is exceedingly popular; OMG the sweetcorn has been amazing
Boo: Despite the plethora of smaller farms and the delightful-to-witness growth of a couple mid-sized farms, the market is sorely missing Blue Moon Farm as an anchor farm this year; many shoppers requiring grade-school level direction regarding waiting in line, not cutting in said line, avoiding coughing or sneezing into hands and then handling produce, etc; a few folks are a bit rude and impatient, which kills the vibe
I have a sneaking suspicion that while the perception of far mar bougie-ness keeps them going and that perception of them is part of what helps them stay operational, direct-to-consumer markets like UMATS and the Champaign Farmers Market are increasingly crucial outlets for farmers to get what they grow directly to people. Most small farmers in our area will never be able to scale up to supply grocery store chains, so people who value local food economies (and what they and others eat) will continue their support of markets to get the produce they want. People who don’t care as much about those ideas will begin to support markets when faced with certain realities.
Also? I really love that the very robust SNAP matching program in our area creates opportunities for those with less money to participate in the local food economy and conversation. This cultural aspect is more important now than ever, as people become increasingly isolated from each other, don’t know their neighbors very well, and often feel like they don’t belong (or that others don’t belong). Everyone eats, ya know?
Anyway, markets require investments of time, money, and people. They need to be cultivated, curated, evangelized, and patronized. Folks working the markets, either as vendors or management, deserve respect—it always surprises me when people are so willing to be rude to people working in food—their food. I don’t blame anyone for not wanting to work in the food biz, because people are a-holes and always have been, but there’s been a definite uptick in bad behavior these last few summers. Let’s keep our local markets going—let’s be good to the people who bring them to us.***
This interview with tech worker advocate Ifeoma Ozoma in Anne Helen Petersen’s very worth-reading newsletter, Culture Study, gave me life. It also killed me, a little.
Ms. Ozoma’s stunning place, the work she’s put in, and her energy are incredible, and her thoughts about community resiliency are right up my alley. I have to be careful, though, when I read about what other people are up to—where they’re living, what their setup is, their acreage, their resources (including time), etc. It’s not so much that I want to move to multiple acres in New Mexico or Hawaii or Minnesota; it’s more about whether I could, if the opportunity presented itself, and whether I could do the job well, live well. As I get older (I’ll be 54 next month), and especially on certain days, I’m realizing that even a reasonably-sized backyard garden, cooking from said garden and from the market, preserving food—things I love doing, by the way—feel more like a younger person’s game all the time.****
That I haven’t been the best steward of what I have these last few years also nags at me. Like everything else, it’s complicated.
But! I have 100 heads of garlic in the basement and hoophouse to build. I’ll start there.
LOTSA (Lisa’s Open Tabs, Saved Aggressively):
Computer reboots ate them all. Lotsa LOTSA next time.
* These photos were taken one day apart from the same beach access point
**Additional listening: In August, 1A devoted an entire week of its show to water, including an episode about farming in a drought.
*** I was UMATS’ director from February 2008-September 2012, and I’m currently on The Land Connection’s Board of Directors. TLC operates the Champaign Farmer’s Market from May-October, the Champaign-Urbana Winter Farmer’s Market from November April, and my daughter administers the SNAP/LINK Up matching program. I know. We’re very nerdy.
****I’m imagining my farming friends who are very much still at it in their 50s and 60s and maybe even 70s having a bit of a laugh here.
Lisa, please keep writing -- in between attention to that hoophouse and garlic! Your words are like a breath of fresh air, a welcome rain, in this parched place. Keep it up! Happy anniversary to you and Jim, and hello to L!
So good to see you in my inbox this morning. Oof, I am with you on the fallow garden, aging body, waning energy, and caution when reading accounts like that in AHP's Culture Study this weekend. It slayed me in a not very healthy way. I've fantasized about relocating to Taos (or Maine, or Vermont, or or or...) for about 6 years now and I have to constantly remind myself that I'm not managing what I have, which is a postage stamp of land. This season having Covid in spring and still dealing with ongoing issues has stolen all of my energetic winter planning and planting. Now the work to get my garden usable again feels so far beyond my strength and stamina, which is about as close to nil as one can get. I'm seriously depressed about it all. I really need to find that intentional community situation soon. I wonder if our vendors are experiencing rude customers too. We've had a couple of incredibly rude vendors to deal with this year, which has not happened in a long time. Oh, and congrats on your anniversary!