I wanted to read This Organic Life: Confessions of a Suburban Homesteader for a variety of reasons. First, it was mentioned in a book by Barbara Kingsolver and second, because as I become more aware of the issue, I am becoming more interested in eating locally and growing my own food. This book promised information on both.
It took only about three or four days to read the book—since I did not get called to sub the past two, I had plenty of time to devote to reading. I can’t say this book changed me or gave me passion the way a Barbara Kingsolver essay might, it had a softer grace, prompting memories I had forgotten and bolstering a sense that, over the course of time, I can aspire to producing some of what I eat and eating locally with a majority of the rest.
What I really love about this book is Gussow’s praise and support of farmers. I have always, always felt a certain kinship to farmers; I find few landscapes more beautiful than a farm. Perhaps it was the majority of my first ten years being spent in Iowa, perhaps it is simply in the genes as my paternal grandparents grew up on farms. I used to dream of finding a nice farmer to marry (it’s looking like I’ll have to settle for a police officer) and set my first completed novel on a farm in Iowa. I suppose I can’t help but share Gussow’s eagerness in supporting those that give us food.
This past November, I visited Hawaii with my family. Hawaii is amazingly beautiful and breathtaking and I was jealous to see all sorts of fruit trees in the backyards of even the most ramshackle houses. It wasn’t until I read Gussow’s book that I even began to remember that fruit trees could be grown in the Midwest just as in our tropic neighbors. Gussow talks about a peach tree, raspberry and blueberry bushes/vines, even a kiwi vine.
And suddenly I remember the apple tree at the old farmhouse owned by my Grandfather. And, even more vividly, a row of fruit trees my maternal grandparents had in their rural “yard.” I know there were cherry trees for a time, and I remember the grape vine lining my grandfather’s vegetable garden (which included strawberries, melons, pumpkins, rhubarb, and countless other things I cannot remember), and a few other fruit trees I don’t remember, but I vividly remember the plum tree. My sister and I visited my grandparents often—usually for around a week so my parents could have a vacation and so could we. My grandparent’s home was a rural paradise of creeks to follow, trees to climb and wildflowers to hunt. This particular time we visited, plums happened to be ripe. I hadn’t ever really had a plum before; I was and am a very picky eater. But, I tried this plum that I had picked with my own two hands and it was delicious. I remember devouring these plums, my Grandma commenting on how much I liked them. When I returned home, wherever that happened to be at the time, my Mom bought plums since I had enjoyed them so much.
I remember having one and thinking what happened? I must have gotten a bad one because it tasted nothing like that delectable little treat I had had at Grandma’s. I tried another with the same result. I never thought much about this incident. I have a habit of gorging on food I like until I no longer like them, but as I read Gussow’s book, another thought came to mind. The plums my Mom had bought at the store had come from who knows where, those plums I had eaten at Grandma’s were fresh, locally produced, sun warmed and inherently delicious. The “jet-lagged” plums from the store couldn’t compare. If anything could prompt me to eat locally, this memory is incentive enough.
I spent last night wading through articles on container vegetable gardening (I live in an apartment and likely will for at least another year+) as well as local farms, markets, and places to get local produce. I even looked a little into the CSA, though at this point the bank account won’t support that lump sum of money. I am ready to start, but I am also a creature of habit and used to convenience, as are most Americans. It is going to take some time and a change in monetary funds to break this life-long habit, but I hope to gradually accomplish it.
One of my “100 Things” is to start an organic garden and eat something I produce, so I am going to attempt a container vegetable garden next month. I am thinking tomatoes, lettuce and maybe a pepper of some kind. I’ll have to start small, especially as I’ll likely move sometime this spring, but it will be a start. There had been some possibility about having a house/condo this summer, but it looks like it will be another apartment for us, so some of my hopes have to be reassessed a little, but from what I’ve ready, growing your own vegetables from containers is possible.
If you’re interested in knowing where your food comes from, why farmers are important, the joys of producing your own food, or just a touching, mellow memoir, I would readily recommend This Organic Life by Joan Dye Gussow.
