Community agriculture puts farmers face
on food
Editors Note: This story is a sequel to Food for
thought: The political, economic and moral implications of your grocery
list, which appeared in NCRs Feb. 12 issue.
By KATHRYN CASA
Special to the National Catholic Reporter
If pesticides wont do it, if
genetic engineering isnt the catalyst, if mega-farms arent enough,
then maybe Y2K will turn Americans back to the land. At least, thats the
hope of Pennsylvania farmer and self-proclaimed optimist Rob Wood.
Wood believes that the potential computer glitch -- which some
fear could turn clocks back a century by erasing our technological advances at
12:01 a.m. Jan. 1, 2000 -- has a growing number of people seeking ways to be
less dependent on big systems. And that might mean a boon for community
supported agriculture.
Community supported agriculture (or CSAs, as such farms are
called) is part of a small but growing trend among farmers and consumers around
the country to bypass conventional agricultural distribution channels.
Although food buying habits of Americans -- the regular trips to
the supermarket -- are deeply entrenched, Wood believes that a quest for
personal autonomy could make people look harder at the sources of their
food.
U.S. consumers generally accept food products that travel an
average of 1,300 miles from farm to table. Compared to their European
counterparts, shoppers here cast a less critical eye toward the unknown effects
of genetically engineered species and seeds designed to work in concert with
specific pesticides, as well as other farming practices dictated by
multinational interests and global markets. So Wood says hes convinced it
will take something catastrophic to finally make people aware of
the origin and quality of their food. And thats where the millennium
comes in.
But even if Y2K fails to come up big in the catastrophe
department, Wood would continue to be a booster for community-supported farms.
A 54-year-old urban refugee, Wood fled Baltimore with his wife in the 1980s to
live off the land. He operates 26-acre Sproutwood Farm, which makes regular
produce deliveries to about 40 subscribing members throughout the growing
season. Whatever it takes, the main idea is to get people connected to
the source of their food, Wood said.
In conventional agriculture operations, a grower sells one or two
main crops to a middleman who takes it to the broader market. The food
eventually makes its way to the grocery and finally to the table. The idea
behind community supported agriculture is to eliminate the steps between
growers and consumers, developing a regional food supply that, in turn, leads
to a healthy local economy and a stronger sense of community.
According to the University of Massachusetts, people in almost
every state buy 85 to 90 percent of their food from someplace else, which means
billions of dollars slip through each states coffers each year. Studies
done at the university found that Massachusetts was capable of producing more
than a third of its own food supply, translating into about $1 billion annually
in spending that could be kept at home.
The concept of community supported agriculture originated in Japan
about 30 years ago, where it is called teikei, which translates as
putting the farmers face on food. And just as it takes a
certain kind of consumer to be willing to subscribe to a CSA, it
also takes a special kind of farmer -- someone who can market products as well
as grow them -- and that means networking, newsletters, recipe suggestions,
even Internet Web sites.
At Mariquita Farm, a family-run farm in Watsonville, Calif., at
the heart of the fertile Central Valley, the husband-and-wife team of Julia
Wiley and Andrew Griffin grow everything but mangoes and asparagus,
Julia said with just a little exaggeration. The couple has been running their
CSA for three years, serving about 150 members in trendy Santa Cruz County and
high-tech Silicon Valley.
Farmers market on the Web
The home page of the Mariquita Web site
(www.mariquita.com), was built by a friend of Julias and is
updated every two to three weeks. It includes links that tell what a CSA is,
how to join, whats being grown, the length of the growing season, the
cost of a share -- $14 to $19 a week -- and the location of the farms 17
weekly drop points for produce (usually a members shady
porch, said Julia, who, starting each April, makes the rounds twice a
week.) More than half of the farms members are on line, and they get a
regular e-mail bulletin advising them of whats coming in that weeks
food basket.
Most of our members are people who love farmers
markets but cant get there or they dont like to because
theyre such a scene, said Julia, who has been working with the
family farming operation since 1992. A teacher by profession, she has a B.A. in
history.
At the Mariquita Web site, cyber visitors learn that Andy, who has
20 years experience in organic farming, also writes articles for the
farms newsletter and has written a fascinating history of the farm.
When Mariquita member Bruce Bennett needs a little extra basil or
another eggplant, he doesnt have to run out to the grocery. He can go to
his Cupertino, Calif., office, where he and about 10 coworkers started
receiving produce deliveries in April.
Bennett, who lives in San Francisco, said he decided to subscribe
to Mariquita to encourage me to eat better and eat more vegetables, and
to force me to get more involved in my cooking rather than eating processed
foods.
The other great thing about it is, if I get a bunch of
celery, Im not going to eat it all. So Ill take what I need and
share the rest with a neighbor. Bennett, a human resources administrator
at Chordiant Software who helped brainstorm the CSA service launched by the
company last year, said he sees it as a great benefit for the companys
employees.
For this years recent informational meeting, Julia sent over
a complimentary box of organic samples. Julia also is helping create a Web site
for all California CSAs. She expects it to serve both as a resource for
consumers and as a place where farmers can exchange information.
That kind of be-all, do-all approach to farming is exactly what
many say it takes to run a CSA. It is a transition that some conventional
farmers are unwilling or unable to make, said Kathy Ozer of the National Family
Farm Coalition in Washington. The coalition works to ensure that federal
programs benefit family farms and rural communities.
Some of the limitations have to do with the individual farm
or a farmers interest in being both farmer and marketer, dealing with all
those logistics.
Also, a farms location has a lot to do with its viability as
a CSA. Those near more urban population centers in major metropolitan areas
often fare better than operations in more rural areas, where people already
grow much of their own food. But at a time when federal farm subsidies are
fading, thanks to a 1996 farm bill that takes the most market-oriented approach
to agriculture since the New Deal of the 1930s, many small farmers are finding
a need to subsidize their operations.
Some go to work at a local factory, said Iowa turkey farmer Denise
OBrien. Others subsidize conventional farm operations by selling their
products as a CSA on the side. I dont know that CSAs are
economically self-sufficient, said OBrien, who is part of a unique
cooperative called The Magic Beanstalk that is sprouting in and around Ames,
Iowa, smack dab in the heart of commodities country. But some
conventional farmers are beginning to look at it in that sense. Its a way
to make a little extra money.
In Pennsylvania, Wood subsidizes his farm income by canvassing for
an environmental group. His wife still works in Baltimore as a pastoral
counselor. Were piecing together a living, said the
farmer.
At Woods Sproutwood Farm, members can choose a working
share, in which they contribute up to 80 hours of farm labor during the growing
season in exchange for produce. Or if they prefer less dirt under the
fingernails, they can opt for 10 hours of work and $60 per season for a large
share of the harvest, less time and money for smaller shares.
Altogether it keeps the place going. The idea eventually is
to develop a community and business base that does support the farm fully. But
its not without its struggle, Wood said.
Linda Halley and her husband, Richard de Wilde, owners of Harmony
Valley Farm near Viroqua, Wis., are in their seventh season as a CSA farm with
about 350 member households that pay $17 a box, or $560 a year, for weekly
produce deliveries from the first of May to the end of December -- 32 boxes a
year. Members pick up boxes at one of 15 drop-off points in and around Madison,
Wis., about two-and-a-half hours from Viroqua. At least 11 other CSAs are
located in and around Madison, Halley said.
An educational hurdle
For Halley and de Wilde, one of the biggest hurdles of operating a
CSA was to learn to charge enough. We had to learn to get our price in
line with our cost, Halley said. When you add it all in, the
produce is not really cheaper even though youre buying direct, she
said. Its been a bit of an educational hurdle for both people
and farmers to understand that, she said.
We have to grow a greater variety of crops. Then the produce
has to be hand-harvested, delivered to neighborhoods. There are multiple
accounts -- the cost of bookkeeping for 350 families, plus the cost of a
newsletter for members. Its fresher, often cleaner and better, but some
people dont take that into consideration, she said. In that
sense, CSAs are limited. Its not going to be the way everyone buys their
produce. Its for people who like good food, good flavors, who like to
cook.
Its also for farmers who want closer ties to people in the
community. And vice versa: Members are asked to volunteer sometimes to help
with deliveries. Although Halley and de Wilde also sell their produce through
conventional channels, they find the CSA end of their business more rewarding.
It really has complicated our farming life immensely, Halley said.
But we feel the rewards are there.
The Magic Beanstalk
In Iowa, OBrien said she and her husband, Larry Harris, grew
organic apples, strawberries and raspberries and milked cows in order to make a
living on their farm, which they did until four years ago, when they stopped
milking and Harris took a supplementary construction job.
OBrien sells about 50 to 60 free-range turkeys each
Thanksgiving through The Magic Beanstalk. The cooperative is unlike individual
CSAs where farmers have to diversify, growing a wide variety of fruits and
vegetables to satisfy their members tastes. The Magic Beanstalk involves
16 growers -- five vegetable producers and 11 others who specialize in
everything from flowers to garlic to pork to luxurious, hand-spun yarn.
Including meat producers makes the cooperative unusual.
Once a week, the growers bring together their products in the
basement of a local church, also the site of cooking and nutrition classes run
by the Field to Family Project, a related organization that helps subsidize
Magic Beanstalk shares for low-income families. Last season, 168 families
divided the yield, said The Magic Beanstalk coordinator Marilyn Anderson, who
spins the yarn from her Angora goats. The yarn is listed on the check list
subscribers mark to show what products and produce they want.
A working share in Magic Beanstalk costs $250 for the season; a
nonworking share is $40 more. Although the board asks for payment when the
season begins, installment plans are available.
Magic Beanstalk members receive a one-page newsletter, produced by
a nutritionist and a grower, which tells about the vegetables available that
week, provides recipes and personal information about the farmers. That helps
to keep people connected, said Anderson, whose 12-year-old daughter
last year raised chickens to provide eggs for the project.
Anderson said only a few potential members have balked at buying
shares, usually because they are fearful of losing their investment.
We educate the consumers about the risks of agriculture and
encourage them to share in those risks, she said. A few have shied
away, but this is our fifth year, and we havent ever had a complete
washout. A few substitutions sometimes, yes. Last year, for instance, we ran
low on tomatoes, and that was a little disappointing for some people.
OBrien feels optimistic about the future of CSAs, which she
believes are now at a stage of public awareness similar to that of organic
foods some two decades ago when she and Harris began farming. The couple
celebrated their 23rd anniversary of farming recently at a regional workshop
attended by over 1,000 organic farmers, a striking and welcome contrast to
their early days in the organic business.
When we started farming, OBrien recalled,
we had to drive 70 miles to find a farmer who could help us out. People
used to laugh at us and call us eccentric and hippies, she said.
Now theyre saying, Hey, this isnt such a bad
idea. A friend told me last week that the Farm Bureau guy out here is
talking about organics now, and hes been making fun of us for 20
years!
The double-digit yearly growth in the organics industry is
gratifying to OBrien, who believes interest in community supported
agriculture doesnt lag far behind. Some estimates put the number of CSAs
in the country at 2,000 by next year.
Something were trying to deal with in Iowa is rural
communities understanding that they need farmers to support businesses,
OBrien said, The [CSA] concept a few years ago seemed thoroughly
ridiculous to people, but I think now people see the big picture. Theyre
really concerned about the viability of rural communities. Everywhere you go,
theyre talking about local food systems, community kitchens, getting
local food into schools and nursing homes. Thats what my husband and I
talked about years ago. It makes me really happy.
National Catholic Reporter, May 14, 1999
|