Sep 7, 20233 min read

When the Land Speaks {Week 15 CSA}

Despite the balmy weather passing by, it feels as though we're in the midst of a storm. Dizzying amounts of information and perspectives meet tumultuous news reports by the hour. Out here, we find ourselves turning off our devices and digging deeper into the dirt for reprieve—and answers.

Fortunately, nature is quick to remind us of her wisdom. Lingering with her roots long enough reveals their unfathomable depth and the networks operating endlessly around and within us. Our smallness in this infinite matrix is a relief when the problems we collectively face feel complex and unyielding. While acknowledging the tasks at hand, we find calmness in nature's expansive timeline, remembering that the soil is both what nourishes us all now and what recycles us all later. Perspective is an effective balm, and it turns out farming offers a lot of it.

As sprawling interdependent systems become strained, the resilience of local infrastructure is revealed. Be it from record-breaking winters or pandemic-based disruptions, the past few years have shown us multiple food shortages in local supermarkets and unprecedented delays on international distribution networks. It begs the question of whether the convenience and accessibility of a globalized food system outweigh the inherently complex, extractive, and often inhumane impact it has.

The benefit of these disruptions reaching the surface (as sporadically empty shelves and redundant news headlines) is that the once "abstract and catastrophist discussion about food security" quickly becomes more pertinent in the collective consciousness. Our small farm and year-round farmers market saw a huge surge of interest from locals. People who we'd never seen at the farmers market suddenly wanted to know all about where they could connect with farmers, ranchers, bakers and beyond. Local veggies, meats, eggs, baked goods, and even hand-crafted items gained a new audience—one they'd been seeking for years.

Supporting local not only benefits individuals in our community but also helps to reestablish regional independence. Gone are the days when every community had tradesmen/women for any sort of local need. After all, who needs a shoemaker (with her tailor-made prices) when China makes the same kicks for one-tenth the price? Beyond the lack of traceability (of all those hidden costs, or "externalities") of far-away businesses is a more obvious issue: what happens when those trade pathways close? What happens when the I-80 closes? Or there's a huge crop failure across a swath of California? These are questions localists have been positing for years, but only recently do they seem more pressing than abstract.

Enter: local artisans. The greater Reno-Tahoe-Truckee community has a wonderful affection for its local makers, bakers, and farmers. It's a diehard group of people (including you) who seek local goods first and it's recently enjoyed a big enrollment.

Appreciating locally grown, raised, or made products takes some experience. The improved flavors of fresh, small-batch sourdough might seem subtle to those used to mass-produced versions. Small farm organic produce often looks nothing like what shows up at Costco with the same organic label. But we believe that reaching across those expectations with transparency about the intentions, integrity, and people behind each business is what fortifies our local economy.

It's the connections made behind the carrots, eggs, bread, and handmade leather belt that create the fabric of our market community. And we can't help but wonder if we're subtly weaving a security blanket worth reaching for if/when our vulnerable supply chains stumble again.