The Weblog

This page contains news, event information, and other items added by the market managers.



 
View the Complete Weblog

Open!


This week is our last week. Together, let’s make it a good one.

I thought I’d share a little history as I promised earlier in the season. All farmers have history. Where did their farm come from? How long have they lived there? Is this a family operation, or is this a new family tradition?

My little farmette came from my grandparents. Their first farm was on Plymouth Church Rd, out of Beloit. It was described as the true Ma & Pa Kettle type farm by relatives who were there. Chickens were in the kitchen, no screens on the kitchen door and grandpa didn’t always finish the duties grandma believed he should. She was Swiss and he was Irish. 100% each. I believe there was some fierly issues going on there. One family member talked about a teacup “flying” through the air and landing on grandpa’s forehead. Knowing grandma; I believe it. Grandpa passed away before I met him. But before that, the family had a tragedy. Their son enlisted in the National Guard. Grandma thought it would make a man out of him. He was; perhaps, slightly disabled. He wrote beautiful letters that I still have, but the research shows he had difficulty mastering the skills needed to be in the National Guard. Bernard was shipped to the Philippines. He was a member of the Tank Battalion of Janesville. After he was captured; he only lived a couple of months. You see, he was forced to bury a man alive and could not live with himself any longer and refused to eat until he died.

Grandma and my mother rarely spoke of him. I did not know details until well after my mother died and I did research myself. I found a life insurance payment to my grandmother after Bernard’s death. It was about the time the family moved from Plymouth Church to the land I have now. I am not certain, but I believe that life insurance policy paid for this land. It was a decent windfall at that time.

So, the tomatoes you eat, the kimchi you buy that comes from local cabbage, the very earth that is still attached to the cucumber in your order has history; local family history. In my case, you’ve purchased produce grown on land received from the ultimate sacrifice. A soldier.

I bet you will look at produce a little differently now.

See ya soon.

Merry