A look at Yolo County during my favorite time of year

Somehow (so quick!) we have come to my favorite time of year. It’s hot in the day, cool at night. The sun rests high in the sky and sets late in the day. My sleep habits slowly change to the new rhythms of the day, and I’m once again reminded of what triple digit weather feels like. Despite the heat, there is still enough green in the land left from the winter rains to not yet feel dried out myself. Of course, the first fruits of the season are the highlight for each new week. First came strawberries, now cherries, and soon apricots will be rolling in. The other day as I planted a tomato start, I got my first whiff of summer- there’s nothing that shouts summer more than the scent of a tomato vine. But it’s not summer yet until the first tomato is picked. That’s why I love this time of year- it’s a transition from a diet of greens and roots to one of fruits (both sweet and savory). It makes we wait for the summer goodies that are ahead, and only then can I fully appreciate them.

To soak up this late spring bliss as I try patiently waiting for summer, I enjoy biking around the expansive lands of Yolo County. Going from one county road to the next and from one hay field to a newly planted tomato field, I’m reminded of where it is I am: the California Central Valley. It is so easy to get trapped in the college bubble of Davis and never see what’s going on just miles away. Yolo County is known for processing tomatoes, and this time of year it seems as if half the county is planted with them. Standing on the edge of a field looking out, I see tomato rows, straight as a ruler, run all the way to the hills. Being here now for my second year, I can recall that many of these same fields were planted in tomatoes the year before (and probably consecutive years before that). I can’t help but wonder what’s happening to the soil- are erosion rates and nutrient runoff increasing or are farmers adopting conservation practices? What about yields and profit? Will Yolo County be able to continue tomatoes this way and forever be the tomato kingdom that it prides itself on? I also wonder what has happened to the community here in rural Yolo. One day I passed about half a dozen farm homes, but at least half of them were for sale. Are families not able to survive as farmers or are they just opting out for the urbanized life? And do the people who run these farms even live here? While I’ve studied the social reconstruction of rural America and know the trends on a national scale, I’ve never put it in the context of where I am now.

When I go out to Jeff and Annie’s farm, I’m fascinated by how unique they are- or rather how they are surrounded by big ag. From an aerial view, I imagine the borders of their farm to be a halo in the valley. I often wonder what it was like when they first moved out there off of County Road 85? Were there more farms of smaller size? More families living out there? Same big cash crops? Or has it changed much at all? Are they more accepted as organic farmers now then twenty-five years ago? Are there more farmers like them? I started thinking about this a few weeks ago when I went out to the farm to help Annie with a school tour. I asked her about their neighbors. While she could name most of them, she said, “They just aren’t our community.” Honestly, I don’t know what to think of it all- whether it’s bad, good, or what should be done differently. But I do think it’s important to think about when trying to understand our complex food system. As I talked about last time, it’s all connected: the people, the places, and the food. You can’t have one without the other. So, when I eat an apricot from Good Humus, I’m not just consuming the fruit of the Main’s labor but a bite of the greater system. Who knows, maybe the bee that pollinated the apricot flower is now pollinating the tomatoes down the road…


So for now as we all long for those tasty gifts of summer, just try reveling in the wait, soaking up the new growth around, and appreciating the transition that both you and the farmers go through. Trust me, that first tomato will taste 100 times better!

5 Days in July

We are pleased to announce that "5 Days in July" received the Jury Award for Best Short at this year's Langston Hughes African American Film Festival.


You can check out the entire piece on-line at http://5daysinjulyinstallation.com/index.php

The Power of Food, Family, and Place

This weekend I experienced a sort of an epiphany. I took a trip with my mom, who’s visiting from Tennessee, down to Big Sur where we gathered with the “long lost cousins of California”. They were hosting the 60th anniversary party for their family’s restaurant. It was a day full of meeting new people, partaking in festivities, eating with another, and simply taking in the surroundings. So, here I was a distant relative completely taken in by almost strangers and having a blast. As I watched the crowd of people grow and the music, dance, and food enliven, I thought to myself, “Wow, this is a special place- it brings people from near and far to gather over food and company.”

And that’s when I immediately thought of Jeff and Annie. While they certainly are no restaurant hosting masses of people on a daily basis, their farm is a gathering place for people. Just recently for Easter Sunday about twenty or so of their relatives came out to the farm. They enjoyed a potluck feast and then had an Easter “gift” hunt in the garden. Easter, of course, is a special occasion, but the farm pulls family in throughout the year. It may just be for Sunday waffle breakfast or a Wednesday work party, but there’s no keeping family away from the farm.
The farm also extends its welcome beyond family and close friends. For instance, in August they host the Peach Party- a celebration of one of nature’s sweetest gifts. The event is open to the surrounding community bringing in a number of locals as well as an assortment of peach concoctions. In the spring and summer months, Annie leads farm tours and over night visits for local school groups. Kids not only learn the lay of the land but also get to cook and eat food straight out of the ground.

There is power in a place that brings people together over food- whether it be to cultivate, harvest, prepare, or eat the food. What makes a farm unique is that it does all of these (and more). At the core of the farm and its provisions is the family-the ones that keep it running and keep running back.

The beauty of the Main’s farm is that it’s committed to being farmed for generations to come- that is they have extended the invitation for people to gather and be part of their family. Their farm trust requires that the farmers live on the land. No other land trusts in California include such stipulations; the Mains know that you can’t separate the farmers from the farm. Above all, they know the power of their farm, its history, and its potential future, and there’s no letting go of that.

So, while I was mingling this weekend with my new found relatives, I kept thinking that this is what people are meant to do- gather over good food and good company; in essence, to feed the body and the soul. I think everyone and every family needs a place that they can do this, and in most cases I think families do. It may not be a formal, organized gathering, maybe just the dinner table, but such gatherings are what make family, not necessarily blood lines. Sadly though, in our culture farms are losing this role as the gathering place. Fortunately, the Mains are doing their part to challenge and reverse this cultural phenomena. As Annie told me, “This farm is opening its doors to a bigger family than relations- the family of community. Farms should not be places only a few privileged get to experience; our communities need a place of refuge right in their own neighborhood, at the farm that grows their food. Our project is replacing the family farm being passed to family; it is trying to hold onto the family values but enlarge the family to those that want to farm.”

As we all know, it takes work to keep a family and even more so to keep a family and community farming. Though not an easy task, we can start, as Jeff and Annie assert, by “standing our ground in the places we love.” (http://www.goodhumus.com/pages/video/adobe-ghp1.html)

So with that, I bid you happy gatherings and happy eating with the people and at the places you love!