Why we fight

“An owner’s eyes and footsteps are the best fertilizer for the land.”
That statement, often misguoted and mis-attributed (it is found in Columella’s De Re Rustica, a twelve volume consideration of livestock and farm management written in the first century A.D.) is the heart of the matter. Global warming is making it very clear that this beautiful earth is “our farm” and it is a moral necessity, not to mention essential for our physical survival, that we come to terms with our responsibilities towards that farm. In our 21st century, with unparalleled information and transportation resources, we must begin to act as if we are all the owners of our food chain. Increasingly you hear the expression “carbon footprint,” referring to the amount of fossil fuels a person burns and other carbon dioxide-creating activities they are responsible in the course of their day. What about your “carbon foodprint?”

We all have to use our “owner’s eyes and footsteps” to get an understanding what kind of resources it takes to get food to our tables. There is a concept moving into the mainstream call “locavore” or “localvore” (I prefer locavore because of it’s sneaky inclusion of the Spanish word for crazy, or loca). Locavores are people who commit to consuming only foods grown or produced within 100 miles of where they live. They find burning lots of petroleum to ensure we have ripe peaches in January is fundamentally misguided on a number of levels. The locavore movement is a noble endeavor, but it misses the point by a mile. Do we as Americans understand the amount of petroleum-based fertilizers and pesticides that go into virtually everything we eat? Do we ever consider that modern factory farming methods burn petroleum at virtually every turn, and there has never existed a farmer who chose a certain model of tractor based upon its MPG rating?

We need to use our eyes and footsteps to consider everything we are doing to ensure food is cheap and plentiful, while simultaneously being less and less nutritious and healthful. That’s part of what we want to accomplish with this blog. Please keep reading.

Business Process
What did we do this week to make the farm a more successful business? Well, among other things, we planted 2,000 trees. Six years ago we planted 7,000 hardwoods along the creek that runs through the farm and the new ones are placed to enhance the visual appeal of the farm in addition to expanding the opportunities for wildlife. There’s not enough trees out here because they were all cleared off to make cornfields – trees are so scarce the federal government pays us to plant them around the farm near streams and such. My old friend Scotty came out and helped me select a good, diverse assortment, as well as selecting good locations for them. There is something enormously arrogant about clearing thousands of square miles of trees to create more cornfields we don’t really need, so planting trees out at our farm is my feeble attempt to reestablish some sense of balance – the critical thing when working with the natural world is a sense of balance, and that is not in any way an abstraction or indulgence. The trees we planted also provide shade for structures, reducing the need to cool them with A/C or fans. And, of course, they are unspeakably beautiful to watch as they grow towards the heavens year after year.


Human Process
Had to go up to Decatur to replace my cell phone. I hate cell phones, but the reality is they are a most necessary evil, and the most evil necessity, out here when you are trying to run a business. Somebody called the telephone “the most totalitarian instrument of our time.” Cell phones are so much worse. I needed a new one because my co-worker, Bryan, was playing with the dogs and tossed Miss Brown into the swimming hole we built recently. Now, before you start yelling, Bryan has done this a dozen times with the same dog and she loved it. This time, she freaked out and started drowning. So I jumped in, pulled her to safety, and realized I had my obscenely priced and over-featured cell phone in my pocket. I had a blissful 24 hours without being reached out to and touched, but then I did the adult thing and got a replacement. Dang cell phones. At least I got to be the first human being into the new swimming hole!