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!
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