We grew too many vegetables again this year. But our friends have risen to occasion and dealt with almost all of it. As the last delivery of the year pulls out of Long Hungry, we breathe a sigh of relief and gush out gratitude’s; thank goodness for all of your support.
The impetus for our week comes from you, the people who eat our food, read the column, watch the show, or visit the farm. Money flows in and out of here, but doesn’t seem to be the reason for the work. We love what we do and would keep farming anyway, although on a much smaller scale. But the economy of the scale and the division of labor allow us maximum production efficiently, and your support makes this possible.
Over the last 30 years, the organic food industry has experienced a boom. I could make a lot of money. Instead, I’ve made a lot of friends. We are developing an alternative food distribution system, and an associative economic model.
Capitalism has within itself it’s own seeds of destruction, simply because a few people win the “monopoly game.” Humans can rise above the pure egoism, the selfish thought of “It’s all about me.” Not from moral or religious reasons, but purely from an economic point of view, altruism must replace egoism. We can find the way to relate economically when we study the love between a father, mother and child. Everyone has the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, and this includes food. Farmers and consumers can cooperate together to the mutual beneficence of both, as we are doing.
So, food is free. It grows on trees, and other plants. Some people like us, love to grow it. Other folks do all of the other jobs that help make the world go round. When farmers focus primarily on farm production and are supported, there is plenty of food for everyone. When a farmer tries to make money, trouble begins.
Commodity markets have killed agriculture, because we lose sight of the whole farm and the importance of humus with the short-term goal of profits. On the other hand, community support receives agriculture, because the farmer feels necessary for the long term. All we’ve grown belongs to the community supporting us, all they give us allows the farm to continue until the next crop comes in. Just like new parents, we are acting like there is a future and we care about it.
You get something besides food from this farm, and we get something besides money. I’m reluctant to name it, because it might be love, and love is scary. It makes me woozy, dizzy and so happy and so sad. When you think of us, we feel it here. And you can feel our care when we are hurrying to plant a crop before a rain, or harvesting an acre of potatoes. We are connected, and that creates happiness. As the last delivery pulls into town, the sadness of our winter separation dawns on us. We will miss you. Transcend the emotions, and know we’ll continue to use your support to get the soil ready for another great year to come.