Ham Sweet Farm in the news!

I promise I haven't forgotten about you, little blog!

The passing of time on a farm is marked by empty bags of grain, refilled waterers, ripening tomatoes, and growing babies.  Our ducks, who were once so small that they couldn't be contained inside the small bars of a dog crate, have now outgrown the coop we built for them.  Our pigs outgrew the feeder we made for them, their shoulders growing too wide to fit four-abreast.  When we first got them, all five could eat from one feeder at the same time [albeit with some squealing].

The rotational nature of growing living things is entrancing, hypnotizing, steady.  By the time you catch up on one corner of the farm, another has grown wild and needs attention.  So it is, too, with the seasons.  The bursting greens of spring, the scorching haze of summer, the bounty of autumn, the halting blanket of winter.

With September looming just around the corner, we are starting to think of wintry solutions to what surely will be problems with our methods of feeding and watering everyone.  Currently, you can stumble outside in pajamas and flipflops to take care of morning chores.  A few crisp mornings with dew resting heavy on the grass jolted us into the reality that soon, we will need to be all layered up before we venture outside.  Reality bites.  But it also means an end to the frenetic garden-watering and grass-mowing and fence-building, at least until spring decides to come around again.

The local magazine Capital Gains was kind enough to interview me recently, for an article about eating ethical meat.  I'm always happy to talk about why Christian and I are doing what we're doing.  Check it out below!

Conscientious Flexitarians— eating the right meat

Peppermint Jim

Rather than retype and slightly retool a post I just made regarding the fate of a fourth generation family-owned mint farm near my house, I'm going to redirect you here, to another blog to which I contribute. Peppermint Jim reminded me a lot of Dellis, so you know I pretty much fell in love immediately. I'm sure you will too.

Paying it Forward

Today as I was walking to class I noticed the sky darkening and the temperature dropping. I had neither an umbrella nor a jacket with me, and could see that rain was imminent, but it was too late to grab either at that point. Sure enough, by the time class was out an hour and a half later, it was pouring.

I must have looked really miserable, waiting in the rain for the bus in my t-shirt and jeans, because a girl walked over to me and said "You look really cold and wet," and proceeded to share precious umbrella space with me. It was really touching. There I was, a grumpy senior standing in the cold, winter-is-coming rain, thinking about how I should know by now to always have an umbrella in my backpack, and what looked to be a freshman girl offered me some shelter under her umbrella.

Once I was on the bus, I started thinking about the Hollies song, "Bus Stop."


Bus stop, wet day, she's there I say
Please share my umbrella

But it also got me thinking about the concept of "paying it forward."

Living Local

My grandfather lived his entire life here in East Lansing, MI. Maybe not the most glamorous place in the world, but a diverse university town nonetheless. He was born here, grew up in a home on the "main drag" [that now houses students], went to Michigan State University, worked just minutes away from his house, bought cars made in Lansing, contributed to local charities, shopped at a locally-owned grocery store, and didn't like to travel more than a few hours away for anything.

These days, "local" is the buzzword on everyone's lips. Local food, mostly. I was thinking about it today while I ate lunch with a friend at the decidedly non-local Panera Bread Co. [I know, I know. There was a gift card involved!]

Elements of a Farmer's Market

One of the things I love most about the Allen St. Farmer's Market is the way it has been designed as a part of the community around it. Not only does it feature local farmers selling only their own produce, local restaurants and "local folks" who make anything from soaps to dessert sauces to t-shirts, but the market was created and is maintained by people who live, for the most part, on the Eastside. Since the Allen Neighborhood Center is a non-profit, finding volunteers is an important part of the mix in order to keep things running smoothly. Volunteers like myself show up each week for the market and make sure that tents are up, signs are out, and everything is where it should be. We then make everyone coming to the market feel welcome, answering any questions and trying to communicate why, exactly, this market is so special. Easier said than done, almost— in my case, I'm there from set-up to tear-down every Wednesday and it is hopefully apparent to people who see my week after week, no matter what time it is, smiling away from my post by the front gate or taking pictures as I wander from tent to tent.

The class I took this spring that had me involved in "pre-season" market activities allowed me to get involved in the market in different ways. One of the things we did was create flags that ring the parking lot on market days, an eye-catching and beautiful sight. It was not just my small class of four who made the flags, however. A lot of people contributed many different talents to make these flags happen.

Market Daze

I very rarely make posts like this but I suppose that, since I was referred to as "bubbly" today [probably for the first and last time], it's fitting and I can make an exception.

Today was the second Allen St. Farmers Market of the season. I volunteered at the market last fall semester for a class and was entirely smitten with it, and then volunteered at the Allen Neighborhood Center this spring. I decided to continue volunteering there this summer [and for the season], without the parameters of a class. Not limited by a class schedule or other school-related commitments, I told my boss that I would need Wednesdays off and plan to be at the market from set-up at 12:30 until tear-down at 7:00 for the summer.

Today was a fabulous day. It frosted last night and thunderstorms have been predicted each day for the past couple days, but today was clear, sunny and probably 70 degrees. Set-up only took an hour, and then I helped the East Lansing Food Co-op [where I also volunteer] set up their tent. As the market got underway I took a seat by one of the entrances as a greeter. The day flew by. There was a steady stream of people all day, some attending for the first time, some with babies, some with dogs, some I knew from previous markets. You just couldn't ask for a nicer day, and everyone was all smiles. You can buy everything from herbs to milk, flowers to brownies, and people came with cotton bags and woven baskets to carry their purchases home. Many people walk or bike from their homes or work, picking up ingredients for dinner that night.

I love the conversations you have with strangers. There's just something so intimate about a market, especially this little one, that you feel like you know the people around you already. You say "hello" as they come in and "see you next week!" as they leave. It doesn't matter that you don't know their names or where they work or anything about them. You know enough.

We seem to live in a world increasingly devoid of personal contact.

Schools across the country are banning everything from hugging to high fives. An MSNBC article from October had this gem of a quote... '“Would you want your children to be hugging or kissing at school without your knowledge?”' That would be from David Hadley, the principal of some middle school in Texas.

Some administrators are citing "hallway clogs" as the reason to ban hugs, blaming girls for exchanging lots of hugs between classes, and others imply that hugging could lead to something worse. [Well, I suppose that Britney Spears' 16 year-old sister IS pregnant, so maybe they're on to something afterall.]

Spawns of Spears aside, it seems like a lot of us live without any meaningful contact from day to day. Touching isn't allowed, and with sexual harassment suits on the rise, it becomes more of a risk every day to reach out. I read an article once about a male teacher who took his young students into the hallway to help them zip up their jeans after using the bathroom, just in case. We don't trust each other, or can't. Touch has become a taboo thing, an excercise in deviancy practiced in the shadows by child predators and creepy Catholic priests.