Market

"Why do you like farmer's markets?" Alex asked.

Surprised by questioning such an apparent truth, I stumbled for a few moments as we navigated the dense crowds at the Union Square Farmer's Marker.

"It reminds me of places outside of New York. I grew up going to them with my parents," I continued. "Now that I live in New York, its grounding." Although our conversation stopped shortly thereafter that Saturday, I continued to contemplate my attraction to farmer's markets.

The next morning, I awoke early to a gray spring morning. Walking through the rain, I grabbed some coffee and then headed towards the farmer's market on 77th and Columbus. The rain fended off the strollers and golden retrievers and gave everything a green hue. Moving slowly down the row of vendors, I took my time hunting for the week's groceries.

Grass fed, yuppie bought.

All of these photos were taken with Sigma's 50mm f1.4 lens. It beats Canon hands down.

Greens and purples.

Browns and Tans.

Wet, gray and orange.

Exchange.

Oyster Mushrooms.

Eggs and Spuds.

Everything got wet.

Apples.

Lugging my groceries in an assortment of plastic and paper bags, I listened to the sound of loose change sloshing around in my pocket. As I counted the blocks down in my head, I regretted shopping on an empty stomach. With a snap, one of the plastic bags broke, spilling apples on Columbus Ave. Right there, I succeeded in answering Alex's question to Stuff White People Like, Article 5. I will be back next week.

Here are some more links,

Farmer's Market (Picasa),

Farmville (ART).

Farmville, USA

Geographers laid out most of the Midwest in simple, square-mile grids bordered by country roads. Farmers populated the majority of these grids over a hundred years ago. Last weekend, I visited two working farms in Sheboygan County, Wisconsin. Fascinated by the process and details of the farm worlds away from the Whole Foods dairy isle, I wandered the farms taking photos.

Today, larger farms dominate the agricultural industry fueling critiques like Food Inc. However, independent family-owned farms still flourish in specific niches.

The chicken coop.

Grass-fed organic milk, still hot.

Stand off.

Red.

Chomping grass, not grain, the Heidel Organic Farm produces a few thousand gallons of milk a week. David showed me around the operation and I did my best to avoid cow shit and take photos at the same time.

Lone ranger.

Mouser.

I always liked Chicken Run.

Twice a week, Organic Valley picks up milk from the Heidel farm.

Fresh eggs, from "unobstructed" chickens.

The farm dog inspecting the chickens.

The view from a hundred year-old hen house.

Milking time!

The Heichler farm vertically produces hand made sweaters. Starting with the lamb, Kathrine and Karl raise the sheep, spin the wool and knit the sweaters. More info here.

Patina.

More patina.

Catching some rays.

Empty stables.

Ready for an omelet.

David Heidel.

Farming is a livelihood, not a job. These farmers are proud of their work. It was inspiring to spend time on their farms. Visit a farm sometime, you will enjoy it.

Here are some more links,
Farmville (Picasa),
Wisconsin (ART).

A Fall Drive

Fall is seeping down south in Maine; forcing leaves from trees, turning grass brown, and nudging temperatures below the frost point. The crisp smell of fall makes me smile and eager to put on my itchy wool jackets and retire my iced caffeinated beverages.

On a quiet fall morning I took the long way home through the rolling central Maine farmland and made frequent stops.

Moo's at a local organic farm. MOFGA represent.

These photos give context to a way of life that I romanticize from afar.

In the end, the detour took an extra 45 minutes, time I would give up in a heart beat.

Here are some more links,
A Drive in the Fall (Picasa),
Fall (ART).