Greetings to you all. I haven’t written much this month. I’m still trying to process the Election night results. I had thought people might’ve grown tired of the circus that is forty-five and now forty-seven-elect. I’ll leave that to the pundits to deal with. The farm doesn’t much care about politics. It just keeps on being Opal’s Farm – food grows, people are fed, and life goes on.
Things have just been incredibly nuts at the farm (in a good way mind you). Every time I think its’s going to slow down the “to do” list gets longer. We are having bumper crops this Fall, and the weather has been absolutely wonderful, making me somewhat sad when the day is over. It’s just too nice not to be working.
We held the Second Annual High Strides Against Diabetes 5K and Fun Run and the after-party last Saturday. We had such a great time with awesome food and fun. Next year, the race will be held in Dallas at Joppy Momma’s Farm. We alternate years for the race. Kim High, the Founder and Farm Manager for Joppy Momma’s has a great team that did so much to make this a successful event. I, on the other hand, should not have Event Planner on my resume. This was so much work! Thank you Kim, Joppy Momma’s, and all the folks from Dallas who worked so hard to put this together. It’s already time to start planning for next year!
We had a special luncheon at the farm with our friends from Houston, the Black United Fund, Inc. this Saturday. We discussed ways we can continue to grow and empower our communities to grow all over this great state. We believe in taking care of each other and building our communities through the medium of good healthy food that we all need so desperately. It was a honor and a privilege to host the event and we’re looking forward to our future collaboration.
The biggest thing going on at the farm right now though is the amazing amount of fresh produce we’re growing this Fall. We’re experiencing record yields and beautiful, fresh wholesome produce. We’d love to see you at either Cowtown Farmers Market or at Opal’s Farm Stand (at the entrance to the farm) every Saturday morning, rain or shine, from 8 AM until Noon. We accept SNAP-EBT benefits at both locations and be sure to look for our weekly specials.
We’d love to see you at the farm. Volunteers are always welcomed and appreciated. We’d never have the success Opal’s Farm has seen if it weren’t for all the volunteers who have helped us grow over the last six years. We’d love to have you come out, get your hands dirty , and enjoy the great Fall days with us.
July is almost over, and this may well be only the second time I’ve posted this month. We’ve been unseasonably cool (and wet!) off and on this summer. We are below our twenty-four triple digit days average. We’re enjoying the cooler weather, since August is right around the corner. It’s the hottest month of the year here so anytime it’s below a hundred degrees it’s a pleasant cool summer day…
The national news and the upcoming General Election have garnered the public’s attention over the last couple of weeks. I’d love to chime in on that front, but lately I’ve found I simply need to concentrate on what’s right in front of me and turn off the political noise that surrounds me – for my own sanity. I still plan to exercise my civic duty and vote – which I hope each one of you does – but I need to step back, turn on the music instead of National Public Radio, and spend my days working and enjoying the beauty of the farm, friends, and family.
We get to see some beautiful birds at the farm. A Great Blue Heron couple has made their nest somewhere on the overgrown sandbar south of the farm. Snowy Egrets frequent the banks of the Trinity looking for fish and small marine animals. We have a Cooper’s Hawks that lives close by (that eliminates the bird threat to our tomatoes) and even a Bald Eagle that comes around (although extremely infrequently).
Twice a year, usually during Spring and Fall planting, the Cattle Egrets, the Cowbirds as we always called them, drop in to eat the small insects that preparing for planting and turning beds usually brings out. They are much smaller than their Snowy brothers, and always come in groups – sometimes three or four groups on different areas of the farm and they’re always entertaining. Their little tan mohawk pops up and their jowls vibrate every time I come close.
Inevitably, there is always one outlier, one whose curiosity outweighs his fear, and always sticks around when the rest of the flock (which seems to be more like a gang!) flies away. He’ll follow me to see what’s going on and often looks at me as if saying “What’s up?”. I am under no illusion – I anthropomorphize our feathery friends – and it’s probably all in my imagination, but hey, I worked alone at the farm for a long time before Joey, Greg, and the guys came. I found my community amongst my wild feathery and furry friends.
One of the things I love about Opal’s Farm is the relationship we have with the wildlife on and around the farm. I take pride in knowing that our animal friends fit right into the environment we labor in. Each has an important place in how the farm operates – even what most consider to be pests. Don’t get me wrong: a pest is a problem, but nature has a way of dealing with them if we just let it take its course.
We have a ton of field mice at the farm. Most are field rats, but I call them mice because that’s what our volunteers would rather hear. There’s nothing more frustrating than picking a gorgeous watermelon or cantaloupe and finding a large hole in the bottom where a mouse had dinner. However, we lose more melons to two-legged predators than we do to mice and rats because we have coyotes, bobcats, rat snakes, and hawks that keep the rodent population manageable. When the ecosystem is in balance it takes care of itself.
We choose regenerative agriculture precisely for this reason. Nature does a far better job of keeping things in check than any chemical pest or weed control can ever do. It doesn’t have negative consequences either. Most of all, I get to enjoy it every day and be thankful to a creator that already took care of any problems I have in this regard. What a way to live life.
I’m getting ready to head to the farm again. I’m grateful for the rain we’ve had in July, but the reality is that it just isn’t enough during any North Texas summer. I’ll run the irrigation, prep a couple of beds, and hope my Egret friends drop by…
(An important aside – my wife’s father passed away on Friday. I’ll most likely be gone a couple of days this week. If you’re a praying person, please offer some prayers for my wife, Margaret, and her family.)
It’s raining once again so that means it must be Sunday. I am so grateful for the rain – the plants at the farm love it – but it can be a mixed blessing. I have the rest of the Spring planting to do before it gets too hot! Then again, I got to take a nap this afternoon…
This has been another great week at Opal’s Farm. We’d love to thank the Bank of America volunteers that came out Wednesday. I was in Fayetteville, Arkansas for the Growing Hope conference and was amazed when I came home to see the work that had been done. Thanks to Stacey and Joey for all their hard work and making the volunteer event a great day.
As I mentioned, I was at the Growing Hope conference hosted by the National Center for Appropriate Technology (NCAT) in Fayetteville this week. It was an excellent conference reminding (and teaching) us of the importance of what we do as farmers and folks trying to change our local food systems.
I toured two different non-profit farms, Cobblestone Farms and Apple Seeds, and learned of our common mission to fight food insecurity and educate others – especially our kids – about healthy growing and real nutrition.
I also spoke with an amazing group of farmers and activists about the fight for food justice – not just food access and food security – but the justice that gives everyone a seat at the table (both literally and figuratively) to create safe, equitable local food systems. I’d love to give a shout out to all the folks at NCAT who put the conference together. It was one of the best conferences I’ve had the privilege of attending – full of new ideas and re-energizing me for the fight for food justice and equity.
Greetings from Opal’s Farm. We will not be at Cowtown Farmers Market this week. The busy Spring planting season came to a bit of a halt this morning. The rain that came in overnight has been great for the farm and not so great for “being under the weather” physically. We will be there next Saturday morning and hate missing the Spring Festival this weekend. Bring your umbrellas and join the fun at Cowtown Farmers Market today!
I can’t stand to miss our family and friends at the market. Over the last five years, Cowtown Farmers Market has truly become family. It’s the highlight of my week. There’s something special about our market and the farmers and vendors who come each week to bring fresh local produce, meats, honey, and all kinds of other local products. I’ve learned so much from the knowledge freely shared by the farmers and friends there.
I grew up in Fort Worth but spent many days at my Uncle Carl’s ranch in South Texas or my Uncle Roof’s dairy farm up towards Boyd. I tend to be more of a carnivore when it comes to diet. That remained the case until I came to Cowtown. You see, Cowtown is unlike the way most folks shop for groceries. People actually stop and talk to one another. No avoiding hurried and harried people with shopping carts and frustration with checkout lines. You won’t find one self-checkout stand at the market; although people may line up because one of our farmers has something special that week (especially when peaches, tomatoes, and blueberries come in).
I’m no vegetarian, nor am I knocking those who are. I still love meat, but Cowtown helped me broaden my food experience. Customers have shared their many ways to cook the fresh produce we bring to market each week and I’ve tried them all (well, most of them anyway). I’ve incorporated many of their recipes into my diet. I even like greens now (except for kale – you all like it so we’ll keep growing it for you – I’m not there yet…).
I hope you will all head out to Cowtown Farmers Market on Saturday mornings. Get to know our local farmers and vendors. Cowtown is a producer-only market. All the farms are within a 150-mile radius of Fort Worth. Everything is truly local. No one is a reseller – getting their produce from a distributor or wholesaler. In other words, we don’t have field tomatoes in January or Brussell Sprouts in August. Learning to eat what’s in season is not only respecting the Earth’s rhythms but benefits overall health as well.
Food is one thing we all have in common. It is to be savored and enjoyed by family and friends and so should shopping for it!
It was sometime during the early years of the Reagan Administration. I can’t remember the date exactly, but I’ve never forgotten the events that night. It was clear and despite the city lights, the stars twinkled brightly on the late winter’s night. I had taken a moment to sit on our big front porch to take in the beauty of the evening before going to bed. I smoked my last cigarette of the day and shut off the lights as I walked through the living room, the kitchen, and down the back stairs to the warmth of our small bedroom in the basement.
Our house was an old farmhouse built in 1890 and sat on two large city lots. It was built long before the area known as Washington Park grew up around it and had much different architecture than the Craftsmen and Victorian homes that came in the early 1900s. It was small – only 950 square feet – and finished in stucco with a flat roof. It even had the old concrete path to where the outhouse would’ve been in its early years. The basement had been finished with two small bedrooms my first wife and I shared next to our boy’s bedroom. It always felt so cozy on a long winter’s night, and I rarely had insomnia issues after sliding into the inviting warmth of the covers and my wife’s arms. It wasn’t much but it was our piece of paradise in the middle of Denver’s urban sprawl.
I’m not sure of the exact time it happened but it was in the early morning hours when sleep is so deep that even one’s dreams are on hold. It was the kind of sleep that we all long for: peaceful and restful. It was also the deep sleep that made it virtually impossible to awaken with a clear mind – the mind remained in that state long after the body was jolted awake. That’s when it happened.
The long, loud scream of the warning sirens blew in the basement window; waning and ebbing as the siren made its circular motion. My wife and I sat up in bed. “What in the hell?”, I demanded as we looked at one another trying to figure out what was up.
I had grown up with warning sirens in Texas, but there we called them tornado sirens. They were tested monthly so if they ever went off other than 1:00 PM on the first Wednesday of the month it meant you needed to head for a place in your home away from windows and doors and hold on. A tornado was nearby and may hit you soon. North Texas marked the southern end of tornado alley. Growing up in Fort Worth meant having a solemn respect for tornado warnings.
The warning sirens were also called Civil Defense sirens. You see, I grew up during the Cold War between the Soviet Union Eastern Bloc and the West. Both sides had a first-strike capability with the ever-growing stockpile of nuclear weapons. The sirens warned us of an imminent attach by the godless communists. We were supposed to file into the basements of buildings marked as Civil Defense shelters if we were downtown working or shopping (this was BM – Before Malls). If we were elsewhere, such as school, we were supposed to “duck and cover” as if our trusty school desks were to help us survive a nuclear blast. I still remember Tommy Turtle and the black-and-white instructional films (this was BV – before video) that told us how to duck low to the ground, cover our heads, and look away from the blast in case of nuclear attack. It mattered little that we were to be vaporized or brutally burned when the bomb went off. The ostrich approach was probably the best way to go…
Unfortunately, this wasn’t North Texas but Denver, Colorado. In the all the years of junior and senior high school and college I had never heard a warning siren. Nor had I ever seen a tornado in Denver, especially in the winter. They just didn’t happen then (climate change changed that scenario years later). Even if they did, the city wouldn’t be testing the sirens at three o’clock in the morning, so something was going on. I reached over to our bedside alarm clock radio and tuned in to see if there was any news about what was happening. There wasn’t. Was this it? Was this the bomb?
The Cold War had a renewed tension after Reagan was elected President. Saber rattling had become the norm and tensions between East and West were at the highest point since the Cuban Missile Crisis in October of 1963. The nuclear arms race was in full swing. I had proudly been arrested for civil disobedience at the Rocky Flats Nuclear Weapons facility numerous times (once with Father Berrigan!). Nuclear disarmament and peace were the subjects of many a demonstration, however small those might be. Most folks were content to live in fear if it didn’t interfere with making a living and going about normal daily life. The warning sirens made everything suddenly real.
Maybe this was it. Denver would be a prime target in any attack scenario. It boasted the largest Federal center of anywhere outside of Washington, D.C. and was surrounded by Rocky Mountain Nuclear Arsenal, an Air Force Base, and several other military facilities. The likelihood that this would be our last few moments was real. My mind raced with memories of a recent movie sensation, “The Day After”.
Finally, the sirens stopped. My wife, though jolted awake by the sudden emergency, drifted back off to sleep. My boys never woke up through the whole affair. All things slowly returned to normal though I never quite made it back to sleep that night. It had all been too unsettling. The morning news carried a story about the event. It seems somehow water had gotten in a control room and shorted out the wiring, causing the alarms to go off. We were never in danger, only inconvenienced. The event was soon forgotten, and life went about as usual.
Several years later, the Berlin Wall came down, the Soviet Union fell apart and became the Russian Federation, and the Cold War was declared over. Anti-nuke demonstrations faded and the news media found plenty of other things to instill more fear and create more demonstrations over. There were new countries joining the nuclear weapon family. Although they had agendas contrary to the West there has not been the intensity of coverage, nor the fearfulness found in the Cold War years.
2024 is an election year. Many on both sides of the political spectrum say it’s the most important election in America history. I’ve lived long enough to have voted in several “most important” elections. This year really is different though, and for a myriad of reasons. I’ve heard all the arguments but the one that’s been missing is the threat of nuclear catastrophe that is now at its highest point since the 1980s. There may no longer be a Soviet Union but the Cold War between East and West has restarted and could become a “hot” war through miscalculation, misunderstanding, and miscommunication.
Authoritarian rulers like Putin have referred to the nuclear option several times over the last two years in his quest to restore Russian Empire. North Korea improves and expands its nuclear program while other international actors seek to be come nuclear powers. More and more uncertainties enter the equation.
I don’t like fear tactics and that’s not what I hope comes from this story. I hope that this is a subject to be taken seriously when considering election choices in the coming year. Whoever is elected will have the final say over whether we live together or die together. It’s important to consider deeply and prayerfully who we give that power to.
Evaluate real character and integrity. Choose those who demonstrate empathy and compassion for the common good rather than those whose decisions are made for themselves. Who holds up and lives out the values we strive for? Making America great again should be making America what it professes to believe in, and not some idea of selfish, power seekers only seek to make others do their will. Choose wisely. You lives may depend on it…
***I also recommend:
Turning Point: The Bomb and the Cold War available on Netflix
gregoryjoel.com 