 | Growing CloserTownside Farm narrows the gap between field and table.
Story and photos by Richard Mahler |
Let's eat!
But what?
In southwestern New Mexico — and throughout the US — most of the produce we pop into our mouths is trucked or flown at least 1,500 miles to meet our plates. The Leopold Center for Sustainable Agriculture estimates that a typical carrot is transported 1,838 miles in order to reach its final destination. Five-dozen corporations, according to other sources, now control the majority of our food supply. As a result of such trends, local farms now meet only a tiny fraction of our daily needs.
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Peter Day (left) and Doug Smith, by their new sign on Little Walnut Road near Silver City. |
But thanks to men like Peter Day, this paradigm may be shifting.
"All over the country," notes the 47-year-old Silver City farmer, "there is a pendulum swing away from overly industrialized agriculture. At the same time there is a resurgence of interest in producing food locally. We happen to be here at the right time to be part of that."
The "we" refers to Day, who returned to Grant County a few years ago after a stint of farming in Hawaii, and Doug Smith, a Connecticut native who manages Day's Townside Farm on the outskirts of Silver City. Although Day is the owner and "chief financial officer" of this venture, the pair share a common vision of how such a minuscule farm — and others like it — can potentially change how and what people eat in our hardscrabble part of New Mexico.
"It is really unusual to find flat, workable soil so close to [an urban center]," marvels Day, posing proudly with Smith before the Townside Farm sign they've just erected in front of their new parking lot on Little Walnut Road. "I was very fortunate that this land came up for sale," a country mile from Silver City's busiest intersection yet nestled in a quiet valley. "The name of the farm reflects the concept of bringing the farm to the people, to counteract the disconnection of our society from the source of its sustenance: the land. The words 'town' and 'farm' are not usually associated, but there is a movement of urban food growing all over the country. In fact, it's really big in Detroit."
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Indeed, a recent Associated Press report noted that economic decline has left Michigan's largest city with 40 square miles of vacant land, an area almost the entire size of San Francisco. Much of this is targeted for conversion into itty-bitty plots for growing fruits, vegetables and landscaping plants. One activist described such gardens to the AP as "a wonderful source of not just produce, but friendship and community." Another resident praised the effort as "a big job-creation engine," while a third speculated it could help stem the obesity epidemic and reduce substance abuse. Government officials in Detroit described urban agriculture as a tool for reducing illegal dumping and providing fresh veggies in neighborhoods abandoned long ago by supermarkets.
In Silver City, with roughly 10,000 residents, a similar trend is evident. Tiny farms seem to be sprouting everywhere. Several vendors at the Saturday Farmers Market sell bounty grown in backyard plots or greenhouses shoehorned within the urban core. Others, like Townside, flourish just beyond the city limits. Businessman Kurt Albershardt, for example, has revived the old Slout Farm along San Vicente Creek with the expectation it will provide tasty organic foodstuffs for the Murray Hotel restaurant he is renovating downtown.
"A dramatic shift has happened here in the last eight years," declares Smith, eyes widening above a thick beard and broad smile. "I'm really happy about how supportive the town, county and state have been for these kinds of ventures."
But Day, who serves on the Silver City Farmers Market board of directors, is quick to point out that starting a brand-new farm remains an expensive and time-consuming venture, despite the groundswell of enthusiasm. Although he prefers not to give an estimate of what he has spent on land acquisition and improvements, Day concedes that paying off such expenses by selling fruits and vegetables is, economically speaking, "almost a joke. I'm hoping that next year we can break even with our annual operating expenses. I hate to put it this way, but I see this almost like a long-term real estate investment. That's how I justify putting money into it."
Although Day and Smith don't state it directly, it is clear that the rewards they derive go far beyond financial remuneration. They appear deeply passionate about what they do, in the same way advocates of social change often are. They are proving that growing a lot of delicious and nutritious food in a small space is not only possible, it has the potential to change how a community feeds itself.
"If everyone did this," says Smith, "a lot of food would be produced with a little patience, effort and time. It's hard, but it's well worth it."
Of Day's 10 acres, only one half-acre is currently cultivated. Another half-acre will be added in the coming year, and harvests are due eventually from still-immature fruit and nut trees. A horse ranch only three years ago, Townside Farm follows a gentle slope trending toward the meander of Little Cottonwood Creek. Wedged between gentle hills, it's dotted with the ubiquitous juniper and yucca.
The land's provenance is unclear, but until recently the acreage was attached to an adobe farmhouse built around 1902. Old-timers remember a large garden sprawled near this home during the 1930s and '40s. Fence lines hint at the presence of livestock for more than a century. Obsidian points found on the property suggest Native Americans also made use of the land. Day believes the property's 20th-century transitions follows a pattern common to the area.
"I've heard that prior to World War II a lot of Silver City's food was grown and brought in from the Mimbres and Gila valleys," says Day, a slender, earnest fellow who shades his tanned face with a floppy, broad-brimmed hat. "My understanding is that things really changed in the late 1940s and early '50s when refrigerated trucks began bringing food in from outside [Grant County]."
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With the advent of supermarkets as well as processed and packaged food, the incentive to "grow your own" faded. The Depression and Victory gardens of the 1930s and '40s were consigned to memory. At the same time, Smith says, men returning from World War II were encouraged to get married and take "day jobs," while their wives were sold on the convenience of getting all their food at stores. Refrigerators obviated the need for root cellars.
"My grandparents," recalls Smith, "once tended a large garden. But they were among those told: 'You don't have to labor in these fields any more. You fought for us and now we'll provide you with beautiful suburban housing, safe neighborhoods, and affordable food that is right at your grocery.'" By the 1960s, "regulations were changed to allow factory farms to flourish. Fast-food chains grew rampant, along with chemical additives and preservatives."
Smith, now 30, grew up "hating yardwork" and never considered farming as a career option. Instead he bounced around a series of restaurant jobs on the East Coast and in Seattle before giving Silver City a try in 2002. "I became friends," he remembers, "with a lot of folks who were interested in dry-land gardening and Native [agricultural] techniques." Curiosity aroused, Smith returned in 2006 to his hometown of New Milford and apprenticed on a 15-acre organic farm: "I had definitely caught the bug and the owner was a great teacher."
A mutual friend in Silver City connected Smith and Day when the latter, still living on Kauai, was hatching his plan to build a brand-new farm in southern New Mexico.
"I had lived in Silver City during the 1990s," Day explains, "and I liked the scale of it, plus the fact that a lot of land-oriented people lived in the area. It was a friendly, down-to-earth place and I wanted to get back."
Being disabled — the result of a spinal injury at age 21 that affects his lower limbs — meant that Day preferred to farm close to an urban center. It also meant that he needed someone to handle much of the physical labor. Day, who uses a pair of canes to walk, lured Smith out of his Connecticut apprenticeship and hired him as manager. The two describe their roles as "complementary," with Day juggling much of the business side while Smith carries out most of the farm's physical work. Together, they plan, strategize, and sell their bounty directly to consumers. For Day, it's a lifelong dream come true.
"My parents weren't involved in agriculture," he says, "other than tending a garden. But as a young man I became interested in land use and agriculture. I apprenticed on farms in college and earned a degree in agriculture." After being "sidetracked into the healing area for 10-to-15 years," Day developed a property on Kauai that produced tropical fruits and nuts as well as chicken eggs. After eight years, Silver City beckoned.
"Last summer was our first season [selling Townside produce] after 18 months of setting up our infrastructure," says Day, during an interview at the farm's open-air washing station, tucked between a greenhouse and a barn. Other improvements include a solar electricity network, walk-in cooler, storage building, drip-watering system and deer-proof fencing. A tractor and other equipment are used to tine and disk the fields, subsequently amended with cover crops, fertilized, and mulched. Tender plants are protected from sun, wind and frost by row covers and shade cloth. A stand has just been constructed for on-site sales and the greenhouse will be expanded next year to allow year-round production. Herb production is another possibility.
"One thing that is daunting for a young farmer like Doug," ventures Day, "is simply being able to afford acquiring the land and setting up the infrastructure. It is very challenging, which is one reason a lot of young people are not getting into farming.... And many of those who are still farming out in the valleys, their children simply aren't around here any more. As they get older, the farmers themselves are dying off."
Family operators also are threatened by rising taxes, large-volume corporate farms and residential development. Less talked-about is the reality that Americans are accustomed to the low prices and easy access offered by big grocery chains, even though the fresh fruits and vegetables they offer may not taste as good (or be as health-enhancing) as items grown locally. (After all, says Day, "everyone knows home-grown tomatoes taste better.") Yet many consumers feel it's inconvenient to make a special trip to a farmers market or specialty store and don't want to pay the higher prices often charged for small-farm products, particularly those labeled "USDA organic."
Townside is not certified as an organic farm, although it follows organic principles. "The hoops, expense and regulation [necessary for certification] are not worth it to me," says Day. "People are always welcome to come and see what we do." Adds Smith, "I was trained intensely in organic methods and believe they are definitely the way to go. But a lot of times the additional few cents on the dollar that you earn [by being certified] goes right back into regulation."
Smith points out that almost none of the seeds used at Townside are hybridized and the farm uses crop rotation, heavy mulching and natural fertilizers to keep its plants and soil healthy. "Instead of trying to subdue nature," he says, "we try to work with it. Root vegetables, for instance, love this soil. We get incredibly sweet carrots." As in much of the region, Townside's soil ranges from straight clay to sand, with each kind demanding different types of irrigation and amendments.
Unlike some urban farms, this one eschews exotic, high-value specialty crops in favor of those with broad appeal. Townside seeks to balance veggies that can be stored easily — such as potatoes and winter squash — with those that are popular, including tomatoes, lettuce and onions.
"And if I can help people learn how to cook less-familiar Swiss chard, eggplant and kale," says Smith, "that's part of helping our community. A lot of what we do at the market is education about foods." Smith has garnered some sense of this through various jobs he's held at the Silver City Food Co-op, which now supplements its produce section through Townside. Both men want to see urban agriculture serve an even larger consumer base.
"One of our goals," Day stresses, "is to reach people who aren't necessarily serious about eating locally. Our Tuesday afternoon roadside stand reaches folks who aren't necessarily dedicated vegetable eaters, but who might expand their horizons simply by stopping by." As if on cue, a nearby resident stops by to inquire while the three of us are chatting in front of the farm's new sign on Little Walnut Road.
"We've also had many students from various schools visit," Day continues. "This sort of field trip could change the viewpoints toward food of at least some kids. I see these as ways of bringing different elements of the community together."
Townside does outreach in other ways, too. During the busiest time of year, when vegetables are ripening daily, it relies heavily on volunteer labor. Volunteers are "paid" in produce, based on the cumulative time they spend weeding, harvesting and washing at the farm. A two-hour minimum is required, and volunteers are asked to commit to a regular work session on a weekday morning of their choice. Workshops are yet another avenue of public education. Last year, for example, a specialist in growing figs came from Albuquerque to teach a Townside class.
"People are ready for this," Day concludes, citing a growing public realization that the current system demands a lot of packaging materials, labor and oil in order to function. (According to author Michael Pollan, "It takes between 7 and 10 calories of fossil fuel energy to deliver one calorie of food energy to an American plate.")
For a forward-thinking farmer like Day, the era of the locally grown carrot may be ascendant: "People are starting to realize that industrial agriculture and the shipping of food for thousands of miles are not working that well. Obviously, Townside Farm can't logistically feed a large percentage of our community, but I think we are using our small space as a positive example of what can happen."
Learn more about Townside Farm, 3100 Little Walnut Road, Silver City, by calling 388-2008. The Silver City Farmers Market is open Saturdays, 8:30 a.m.-noon, off Bullard between 7th and 8th streets, next to the Big Ditch.
