After attending a wedding two weeks ago (and after the glorious vegan brunch), David and I made our way to visit a farm that borders Maryland and Virginia on the way home. Graciously, the farmers who work and live there accepted us last minute on a Sunday to take a walking tour.
I'll keep the actual name of the farm to myself for now, but, any regular shoppers at the Farmers' Market in Colonial Williamsburg have the opportunity to meet two of my new favorite people.
Lawrence and Becky live on land passed down in Lawrence's family for at least three generations. You have to take one of those "over the river and into the woods" sort of roads to cautiously idle into a quiet open area tucked within the woods.
When we arrived at the old farmhouse, Lawrence came to the door and invited us in. We drank iced tea and chatted in a kitchen frozen in time. The farmhouse has had some additions, renovations, but the kitchen is definitely part of the original building. Stone tile floor, brick walls, a fireplace, and a shelf just under the ceiling lined with homemade canned vegetables. We sat at their large wooden table and just talked for a while about... well, everything. I was not expecting the immediate openness that blossomed in that kitchen. It felt more like coming home to a close relative's house and visiting after too much city slicking. They asked about our lives, work, what we're cooking at home, etc. We asked them how they felt this growing season fared for them, what their plans for next year might be, how they really feel about being USDA certified organic farmers (that's a loaded topic for another blog altogether).
Our walk took us through some of our favorite crops of vegetables we purchase from them at the market. Becky would talk to me about the care of the particular plant and would pull off and bite right into a tomato or pepper (after handing out a sample to each of us on the tour). We listened to our guides while nibbling on jewels plucked right off the plant... a very different experience than buying something from the grocery store that was trucked in from California (no offense to the abundance we enjoy from the temperate climate of the west coast). You can taste the earth, the minerals everyone says you're supposed to get from your veggies... it's not that you can't just tell you're eating a tomato or a pepper, but, it's more like a pepper, more like a tomato, if that makes sense. Super Pepper! Super Tomato!
We walked to the chicken coop to meet the hens and roosters. I had been particularly interested in seeing how these chickens live, knowing their eggs are sometimes featured at the market (this past summer, I was one of the customers who got up early enough to take advantage of their limited supply... Lawrence and Becky do not force their chickens to lay... they either do or they don't).
Becky showed me where the chickens hide out to lay their eggs, the variations in colors of birds and shells. It was very reassuring to watch her pet her chickens lovingly, like you might your dog or cat. Many of the birds have names. I'm sad to say I didn't commit any to memory, but, I do remember the things the farmers bring in for the chickens to nibble on. They like tomatoes and, as not perfectly pictured below, dried sunflowers.
In the picture below, this is David next to a field of asparagus. You think of the spears on your plate, but the plant part of asparagus grows into long, feathery stalks.
I'm not picky and I love all vegetables that I know of... all save okra. What's interesting though, is okra produces these really pretty flowers.
Throughout our walk, we were accompanied by Lawrence and Becky's dogs, Bazer and Gus. It was really kind of sweet. It was a very warm afternoon, and we didn't ask them to come, but the dogs trotted along with us... sometimes sniffing at the veggies, sometimes waiting in the shade... When there was no shade a at short distance from the humans, Gus would dig a quick hole at the edge of a patch of vegetables and hop in it until we moved on.
We saw more insects than I think I've ever seen in one afternoon in my life. In my white, somewhat tidy apartment, the presence of a bug is easily detected (and, in this house, we're the sort of freaks who escort bugs back outside). It would take me a second or two to realize there was, for instance, a large wasp on a leaf inches away from my hand. The farmers were very unmoved by the bugs, and I tried to follow suit. Soon, I could see the wasp was much more interested in the caterpillar he was eating than me and I calmed down about seeing any other stingy bug. I was still a little unnerved by the squash bugs... I had heard of squash bugs, but, seeing hundreds of them taking out a squash was... well... disturbing.
Of the many things I valued about this trip, one of the most precious moments was shared with Becky. I felt pretty close to her through the whole tour, but, when she introduced me to Cynthia, I knew Becky would just always be one of those "mother figure big sister warm fuzzy" people in my heart. Cynthia is seen as a sad clump of gold red feathers in the picture below. She is a rescued pet. I forget how the opportunity arose, but, she was not of Becky's flock. The suggestion was to put this chicken down due to the fact that her leg was permanently injured (it's sort of bent back... like, if your knee had been cracked the way it's not supposed to bend and tucked up to your hip). Becky said she would rather take the chicken home, since she was just broken, not suffering, and care for her. She puts her water and seed in a low bowl next to her bush in the shade where she can live out the rest of her days in peace.
Most of the farmers' animals are rescued. They have a three legged cat named Orion and two other large, happy though somewhat skittish farm cats... and the sweetest milky kitten named Pearl. These are not all the picture-perfect animals from picture books in our childhood, but they're all kind, friendly, and pleased with their home life.
After our walk, we picked some things from the gardens and made lunch together. It was not at all uncommon for these kind omnivores to sit down to a vegetarian lunch and not call it "vegetarian"- it was just a good, healthy lunch they provided themselves through the hard work on the farm.
Becky put together this beautiful salad of fresh tomatoes, luscious greens (all kinds of greens grow on their land from red lettuce, arugula, horseradish, basil, etc), a little onion, and some olive oil.
Lawrence sliced some of their sweet potatoes and made large, yummy home fries.
David chopped up one of their "salsa kits" that they make for the market of fresh tomatoes, peppers, onion, and a pinch of garlic.
We served it all with chips and tea and had a glorious, long, lazy Sunday lunch together.
Becky and Lawrence remind me of the way I want to be... more open and generous to strangers. My time living on college campuses and with other people in suburban neighborhoods has made me somewhat isolated. Now, no one has a reason to come to my place if they don't know me, but, I'd like to think I should know my community, invite someone over to dinner if I know they're on their own for whatever reason. These kindly farmers are also just so honest and open to discussion. I could have told them I was a researcher for SETI or that I paint shoe racks or that I recycle tin from cans into shovels and they wouldn't have found me odd or judged my interests. Not that I'm specifically judgmental, but, my brand of humor comes off as such, I'm sure, and I'd like to work on bringing about an air of openness, freedom from my silly opinion.
As if the whole experience was not enough, Lawrence and Becky sent us home with a bag full of crowder peas (which David later turned into awesome Indian cuisine for our dinner this past week), some chives, herbs, and a new cookbook. Needless to say, we were humbled and moved by their generosity to us, two goofy kids who just wanted to see their farm and meet their chickens.
It was an amazing day I doubt I'll ever forget. I have so much gratitude that these hardworking, kind people exist.
