After countless hours of digging, weeding, planting, harvesting, frequenting Farmer's Markets and therefore buying, blanching, cutting, freezing and canning... we had quite a stockpile for the winter! We canned: tomatoes, peaches, pickles, applesauce and strawberry jams. The bulk of what we preserved, though, was residing in the freezer: Snap peas, asparagus, jars of pesto, pounds of strawberries, blueberries, muffins, creamed corn, whole kernel corn, butter beans and more tomatoes. We couldn't wait to dig into that bounty in the dead of winter!
About three weeks after the last of the corn was put up and the last jar of applesauce was sealed, we were actually craving some cookie dough that I had prepared and frozen. I whistled as I sauntered down to the basement to retrieve the first of many items that our freezer would offer back to us over the coming months. Have you ever seen an image in a movie, on television or in real life that was so horrible that you couldn't accept what it was a first? You stare, but you don't really see it for a moment? That pretty much describes what happened when I opened the freezer door. The smell didn't even hit me at first. It was the strange colors and shapes that made no sense. Something was... was... SERIOUSLY WRONG. As my thoughts caught up with what my eyes were taking in I realized that I didn't feel any cold air. Things didn't look neat and tidy as they had when I put them in there. Ah... and then the nose awakened. P.... U... Rot. Yep. I didn't know how, when or why, but this freezer was absolutely, positively OFF. I instinctively yelled for my husband. Okay, shrieked. He came flying down to see what had happened. The kids flew down right on his heels. When he saw the freezer and the horror on my face he turned and said, "Kids - UPSTAIRS!" Smart. He knew what was coming and he wanted to save our tender girls from seeing their mother turn into an sobbing basket-case. He loves me. So, that's exactly what I did. I sobbed. For a little while. Then, the disbelief. Then the reality of what was lost. Ouch. That hurt. Hundreds of dollars, countless hours of work, and, of course, all of the produce we were supposed to eat over the winter.
How had this happened? We will never know (the plug behind the freezer was out of the socket and probably had been for some time based on the soupy mess left behind - the kids can't even reach it - actually, I can barely reach it - probably when a service person came in). What I can say is that after I had a good cry, I had a real God-moment. In my stupor, I climbed the stairs to go to my bedroom, which just seemed like a logical place to go in a stupor. As soon as I walked through the door I noticed a piece of construction paper on my bed. I identified the text, written in crayon, as that of my oldest child (she is 7). It had a smiley face in the middle at it read:
"It's that simple. Be grateful."
I can't explain what happened, but this profound peace came over me. In that instant, I was healed from my despair. That message was not from my daughter. It was from God. I know it was because of the thoughts that immediately followed, consoling me...
Two days before this epic food tragedy, my girlfriend and I had gone to the Green Festival in Washington, DC. It was amazing. The highlight was attending a talk given by the now well-known farmer, Joel Salatin. I had come to know him (as many have) in the book "The Omnivore's Dilemma" by Michael Pollan. He was so inspiring and knowledgeable. It was nice to have four years worth of study and investigation be affirmed by someone who is living it every day - sustainable, earth-friendly, sound agriculture. As I sat there studying this construction paper message on my bed, Joel Salatin came to mind and I imagined what he might say to me in this moment. It might be something like this:
1) The fact that a 38-year old woman from a suburb of DC even made an attempt to understand the food/agriculture issues that face our society today and take steps to promote change is a victory, not a loss.
2) The fact that a 38-year old suburban woman can directly relate to what farmer's have endured for centuries (crop loss, weather tragedies, financial hardship) and connect with those esteemed members of our society who provide us with our food is a victory, not a loss.
3) The fact that every single penny spent on the produce that was purchased from farmer's markets (as well as directly from farms) went directly into the hands of the farmer and back into the local economy is a victory, not a loss.
4) The fact that this particular woman and her family have the financial means (however meager), the physical wellness and ability to grow food for themselves and others is a blessing, not a curse.
There are people all over America every single day who don't even have access to fresh produce of any kind. I will be able to move on and do this again this season. There is nothing to be bitter about. I'd like to think that the loss of what we might have enjoyed all winter has grown us as individuals and made us more humble and grateful to have what we do have. It has fueled my desire to continue this journey and share it with as many people as possible.
It has also made me realize that I need to invest in a freezer alarm. Time to go plant the snow peas...
