C-51

I have been reading a lot about the new anti-terror legislation and, like many people, I've been feeling privacy's prospects for the future crumble.  It's my view, one very much borne of a typical Canadian education and socialization, that a buffer against the state is always more important than a buffer against mostly nebulous threats against which the state insists it needs to protect its citizens.  

There have been many eloquent thoughts expressed about what is happening to privacy, and there have been endless warnings about the dangers of a surveillance state, and there is not much I can add to that.  Suffice it to say that when a government like our current one tells its people that it is its role to keep them safe, I feel less safe.

Bruce Schneier points out in an interview with NPR's Democracy Now, "Privacy is not about something to hide...privacy is about individual autonomy...when we're private, we have control of our person.  When we're exposed, when we're surveilled, we're stripped of that control, we're stripped of that freedom."

What does this have to do with farming or local food?

Just as the government asks us to give something up in return for "keeping us safe,"  we are surrounded by forces that insist they are there to feed us, and they ask, tacitly, that we give something up in return.  Visit a university and hear Food Services use language like, "it's a big task feeding so many people day in and day out."  Multinational Sodexo finds time to run a "Feeding our Future" program for children in need on top of making sure students and faculty have wholesome foods in their stomachs to keep them going.  Not to say that the food served at my local university is somehow substandard, or that there is anything wrong with people choosing to buy food there, or that the campaign must have no merit because it is Sodexo that is running it.  It's the clever angle they take that is disturbing to me:  we are not there to make money, we are fulfilling a calling.  They have crafted a "where would they be without us?" message (to my knowledge, there haven't been any "bring your own lunch" campaigns on campus).

Companies like Kraft (owned by tobacco company Philip Morris in the 2000s in one of its many conglomerate incarnations) have countless campaigns around their role as Nurturer:  Feeding America Partnership...Toddler Feeding Tips...Huddle to Fight Hunger Campaign...Kraft Fight Hunger Facebook group...Healthy Living:  Smart Dinners, Desserts & More…and now Kraft Singles bears the Kids Eat Right logo of the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics.  Bear in mind that it is not cheese, but a "pasteurized process cheese food," one whose quasi-perishable quality has fascinated many, and left many like myself to wonder how this counts as food.  

Gerber brought us the Nestle Feeding Infants and Toddlers Study, helping us understand nutritional gaps in the diets of America's children.  This is the same company that spread its message throughout the developing world beginning in the 70s:  Our formula is better than breast milk.

Coming back to C-51 and the very personal loss of privacy, something over which I have little control -  I think there are many losses happening and they surround the concept of autonomy.  When it comes to food, I have made it a central part of my life:  being involved in a small way in a local food system and taking more responsibility for knowing what I am eating, and knowing more about the consequences of how food is sourced.  While I am slowly giving up on privacy, I feel I still have a prospect of autonomy around my food choices - something equally, if not more important.

I don't want to put this forward as a sales pitch:  "You can't trust Big Food, but you can trust me - let my farm be your provider."  Instead, I hope more people will see the appeal of regaining alternatives to the way things are going - of asking "what are we quietly being stripped of?" as these forces larger than life ask us to just let them take care of us.

A Tale of Two Farmers Markets

Has the farmers market movement peaked? An NPR article said so on Feb 5, and another one in The Los Angeles Times reinforced this view a few days later.  As for the markets in Kingston, we instead see a tale of two farmers markets:  one on the rise and one in decline.

As we began loading up the car for last Wednesday's farmers market, we paused for a moment and asked each other, "do we really want to do this?"  It's a lot of work going to a market, and when you barely break even, it's also a strain on morale.  We are small-scale farmers who market our goods from our farm and from local stores, but farmers markets have been our best avenue for establishing a customer base and generating income. Good farmers markets, that is. There are those you look forward to attending, and those that just are not worth the bother.

What is it that makes the difference between good and bad markets?  There are people working to make small farms and local food viable again, and there are also people working successfully to keep Big Ag getting bigger.  When it comes to farmers markets - one of the main hubs for local food in the absence of the new big thing that will make local food more sustainable over the long term - there are some that grow into something solid and there are others that fall from great heights.

Here is a little tale of two markets right here in Kingston.  One is at the University, the other is at the Memorial Centre.  The latter seems to be growing, while the former has dwindled.  The farmers market at Queens was once a bustling, vibrant gathering of vendors selling everything from Indian Curry to Russian specialties to produce and home baking.  When I ask other local farmers if they were ever involved in that market, I often get a response like, "years ago.  It used to be good.  And then..."

The number of vendors has slowly dwindled to the two or three that currently attend, us included. When attendance falls, it is due to a lack of business.  But business doesn't slip just because. Something new has to come along to take customers away, or something has to be taken from the strength of the market.  

When, several years ago, market vendors were no longer allowed to sell hot food, the central attraction was gone.  You could still sell frozen and refrigerated items, but the smells of cooking and the promise of a hot lunch were no more.  

When major chains like Tim Hortons and Pizza Pizza started to set up shop, lines formed.  When I was a student a decade ago, the only chain restaurant at my university was Subway, which stood out like a sore thumb among the quirkier, more exotic booths, like the one run by a Korean woman who sold tacos and ice cream.  Even that little university out on the prairie has come of corporate age since then.

Many students and faculty are interested in a weekly offering of something different - and local.  But with a couple of unassuming sandwich boards and a quick blurb on the TV screens announcing upcoming events, few remember to head over to the quiet spot where the market is held.

When the organizer of the market also organizes the space for the national brands, it's easy to imagine which takes priority.  While our humble farmers market would never really mount anything more than negligible competition to these ubiquitous food outlets, we are kept on a tight rein, and I fear that the market itself is on its last legs.  What vendor wants to pay $35 to a market that does not seem to be invested in its own success?

Where a market like the Memorial Centre differs is in its understanding that a market does not simply sustain itself by existing.  There is a recognition that a sandwich board alone does not constitute promotion.  When organizers took the bold step to hold a December market in an unheated barn and managed to attract crowds of people week after week, it was not taken with the mantra "if you build it they will come."  They hired a market manager and a promotions manager, whose hours are minimally compensated but who have been working hard to find ways to get word out in a world saturated with messages. There is also a board that includes vendors from different walks of life; a member from the local community; and subcommittees of members involved in everything from organizing events to finding sponsors.  Finally, there are volunteers from within the community to help make the market run smoothly week after week.  It is a massive, ongoing effort of coordination. And where farmers markets lack capital, they have to make up for it in investment of time and energy. Through all of this, the stall fees are lower and business is good.

The contrast between the two markets is a reminder of the fact that a successful local food movement involves more than just farmers selling to customers.  It involves other people being invested in the success of those who make local food available.    It also points to the fact that when reps of large food companies assume the role of growing the local food movement, well, it doesn't happen.

When Ron MacLean Comes to Town

Imagine:  you are a shop owner in the downtown of a small city.  Perhaps you own a coffee shop across from the market square.  It is the weekend before Christmas,  You are hoping for a good rush of shoppers for the next couple of days to make the month worthwhile.  Saturday morning you see trailer trucks coming into the streets lining the square.  McDonald's owns one of these trailers.  They are giving away free coffee.  The trailers are blocking your storefront from view.  You hear the grinding of big engines running and the fumes are pretty overwhelming.  Ron MacLean is skating around on the little ice rink in front of city hall.  He might be doing some kind of heartwarming commentary for TV about Canada's pastime in between burst of skating.  You can't see and aren't interested, but you have time to wonder because there aren't many customers.  The coffee from McDonald's is  free.

The vendors in the market square, meanwhile, out in the cold, standing at their booths, are also looking towards Ron. There are crowds of coffee drinkers and not a customer in sight.  Some of the vendors pack up early. The clothier next to you is not getting many customers either.  Sidewalks are closed, trucks are everywhere. You wonder why there are so many trucks for one little man.

Sometimes something comes up, like the visit of a celebrated hockey commentator.  A city makes some kind of decision.  We can have him come and skate and celebrate our great game, but do we have to consider what this does for those who are trying to make a living in the same space that he's in?  Do we allow ourselves to believe that a celebrity's presence lifts all boats?  Do we give him and his entourage free rein and hope for the best?

Thoughts from a Seasoned Veteran after a Long Year

I have had some time to reflect on this our first season, at the end of our first fiscal year.  We are running a business after all, and we do have detailed documents with our every expense, our every sale (well, we tally up our totals at the end of a market day).  We have surpassed our expectations, but not by a huge margin, only in the sense that our season ran longer than we had expected and more money came in as a result.  I am currently in the midst of improving a rail fence for the yard the goats will graze in next summer, and I was lucky enough to find a large braiding of wire amidst some old farm machinery parts.  This can be unbraided and made into thin wires that will be excellent for securing the rails together.  Welcome to the world of a small farmer:  where the highlight of the day is not finding a sleek new pair of shoes or getting a nice hour-long massage.

What I would like to say is, I recall reading about farming through books written by farmers who clearly had made it.  I recall hearing stories about farming success at farm tours, and articles in farming magazines.  I recall things like, "well, we figured we had beef now, so we might as well try going to the farmers market.  Well sure enough, we sold out within the first half-hour and I've been struggling to keep up ever since"..."I had as my goal to become the biggest barley grower within four years, and now that I've achieved that in my first year, I have to find a bigger challenge for myself"...in fact, I just saw on TV a commercial for small business accounting software, in which an attractive woman in her late forties has had a good month at her modest sheep farm and is rewarding herself with a brand new (what looks like a) Silverado, which she refers to as her "office".  That romantic portrayal of farming comes from within the fringes of the small farming community and from the mass advertising industry.  Wholesome successes, but worldly success, on par with any other worldly success out there.  Wherever it comes from, it rings false to me.

What I would like to say is that ours is not a story of worldly success.  We are only in our first year of course and it's early to know, but we are not projecting a worldly success in the foreseeable future.  We live frugally - our senses have become sharpened to seeking out ways to reuse things, ways to use old junk, ways to save energy, ways to patch clothing.  I guess what I would like to say is, anyone looking into farming should be very aware that, just like in showbiz (the furthest business from farming) there are those very few that do quite well for themselves that land the right market spaces or TV talkshows and people gravitate to them, they sell everything in the first half hour, or their agents call them with a list of multimillion dollar roles.  For most people farming is a tough slog and like in showbiz, the person doing it always has in the back of his mind, that given how tough the first year has been, it's hard to imagine doing this in twenty years after an even tougher year.  old farmers and old showbiz people tend to show their age.

Every month, we spend a lot of money to keep the business going and to meet our personal household needs.  In peak season, it seems we are able to just about maintain financial buoyancy with the amount we make from markets.  As the season slows though, there is no cache from the busy summer.  The ultimate goal would be to steadily maintain that balance between how much is going out and how much is coming in.  It would be a bit much to expect to achieve a state where we have additional income to spend frivolously.  In the meantime, we try to be frugal enough that that the gap between the amount we are spending and the amount we are making is as small as possible.


If I could counsel anyone looking into farming, I would say be prepared for a stark experience, and make sure you are able to find something satisfying in navigating scarcity.  Also, consider that it is not all bleak.  As I was told by a friend of mine when we started this, "You won't make a lot of money but you will eat well" and this is very true.  We have had a great abundance of very fresh seasonal food, and a great food cache for winter, and farm eggs and pastured chickens.  I don't think that even those with the means to do so can truly enjoy a farm's harvest the way a farmer can.  In that respect, farming has been a success so far.  And on balance, the good seems to be outweighing the bad, if slightly, and I think I am being honest in saying I don't miss the life I had before taking on this business of farming.

...From my Cold Dead Hands

This has been such an easy winter so far.  It is slushy, ugly, grey, everything in weather that I dislike, but managing the weather conditions has been effortless, if annoying.

Last year was a challenge:

And I get a lot of advice that includes the words "Snow Blower" or "Tractor" or "ATV".  In a civilized, modern world, it seems that shovels should no longer be needed, yet I am stubbord.  I won't give up my right to shovel my lane.  For me, it may be that the appeal of the shovel against snow is similar to guerrilla tactics against a massive lumbering army.  A shovel is nimble and can be maneuvered almost as a direct extension of the arm's movement.  When snow drifts are halfway up one's thighs, one can stab the shovel in the top layer and chip away.  ATVs and snow blowers get overwhelmed pretty quickly as the little flakes of snow become a deep mass.  Tractors are very handy because they are built to overpower the elements, including snow and soil, which are forces that generally require massive horsepower or very fit, well-nourished muscles.  While the snow shovel remains my guerrilla implement in the winter, the force of the pig's snout and the digging shovel are a pretty strong combination for summer, in the absence of horsepower, mechanical or from an actual horse.

Horses would be the final frontier in potential animal acquisitions for us.  We have, however, added goats to our collection.  They are penned in the greenhouse, beside the two pigs, whom the goats probably find absolutely disgusting.  We let the pigs out the back to dig in a fenced off future garden patch, and the goats we bring out the front door and out in the open range.  But because they aren't penned in, they could wander all over if they wanted to, and they could get attacked by predators, so we stay out with them and watch them munch on grass, dead leaves, flowers, cedar and pine trees.  They have been bred, should give birth in May, and will produce nice milk throughout the summer.

The December market at Memorial Centre is finished now, and it was a good month.  We have seen our stand slowly become a little hub of regular customers.  There is an occasional lineup and it is great to be at a market that keeps you moving, thinking and talking (especially when it is below zero and your feet are cold).  Thanks to everyone who helped extend the season all the way into Stollen season.

"It now gets dark at noon"

This is a celebration of Canadian winter.  Perhaps you've listened to "This is That" on CBC, which is a satirical news program.  Between segments, interlude music plays and an announcer says things to fill space, like "Canada:  when in doubt...portage, and "Canada:  up north and down filled."  But I like this one.  "Canada:  it now gets dark at noon."

Here are a few photos from a recent sunset, in stages, and with layers.  It began mid afternoon and kept morphing into new shades of light.

Winter Market

Sunday morning, a barn at the fairgrounds.  we have set up and it is cold, especially with the concrete floors and walls.  The lights along the ceiling are functional but somehow give a barn-Christmas ambience.  An accordion player with sheet music begins around the time that the first customers start strolling through the barn door.  The coordinator of the market is busy going around and putting things together, like the tables in the food court.   Volunteers work on decorations, including the string of lights we have donated.  People gather inside of the oval of vendors and converse.  They bring their kids and they run around.  They bring their dogs too.  Eventually there is a sustained din of chatter, and a constant movement of people in the corner of our eyes as we change money and juggle dim sum and chop sticks and the glass takeout boxes customer have brought.

Mid morning, vendors from a produce farm that is set up at the other end stop by and bring our order of Chinese cabbage, which we use to supplement our own supply of cabbage.  They have given us a good price for the bulk order and we offer a couple of buns as a gesture of appreciation, and because they are friends.  On my way back, I ask another produce vendor next to them if they have cilantro, and I am told that it is currently frozen in the field but might bounce back for next week.  It is a cilantro that is sold freshly picked and stays fresh and fragrant for the whole week, something that I have never found in a grocery store.

Our apiarist friend halfway up our side of the oval comes by for our 5 for $10 deal.  We tell him we will take a kilo of honey for payment and he brings one back to us and picks up the buns that are now fried.  He doesn't accept the $2 we offer to make up the difference on the $12 jar, but we insist and it ends up in his pocket.  He is listening to a podcast and we chat a bit about CBC programming.  We have a couple of jars stocked now through our bartering arrangement. We have also bartered for cumin cheese, Thai curry, and spelt and beet bread, among other things.  It is easier to look forward to market when you like your fellow vendors and you like what they sell.  

In the stall to our immediate left is a farmer from North east of Kingston and a longer drive away than we are, who is busy making cedar wreaths.  I get some potatoes from her.  I have not eaten a normal white potato in a while since we did not grow them this year and these potatoes of all things offer a bit of excitement to the coming week's menu for their current novelty.

We are coming into December and the market still feels like a summer market.  Vendors bring storage vegetables and greens, and cheese makers, meat producers, and prepared food vendors like us have a place to carry on our business that has no reason to slow down just because the weather has gotten colder.  And people are still coming like it's summer.

The day winds down as open skate in the arena next to us is ending and a few people stop in for snacks or novelties.  We start wrapping up and drop a few bags of the unsold chard and Chinese greens to the Lovin' Spoonful, which distributes produce to people in need.  At 2:00 we unplug the burner and dump the water in the wok we use to steam the buns.  The parking lot is slushy and I have to be careful as I haul coolers and foldout tables back to the car and load up quickly so we can get home, do the dishes and feed the chickens and pigs before it gets dark.

Photo Credit:  Memorial Centre Farmers' Market