by Laurie O.
In the swamp country of southeastern North Carolina where I grew up, it was common for each family to have a small vegetable garden in which they grew food for their own consumption. Our cash crops had already moved to the monocultures of tobacco, field corn, and soybeans, but you could count on eating fresh, frozen, and canned vegetables from the garden all year long. Plenty of swapping went on as well - neighbors gave us sweet potatoes and collard greens, and they were free to pick blueberries in our bountiful patch.
We lived near the coast, and my father was an accomplished fisherman of red drum. He bought shrimp directly from the small boats that came to his small marina and mechanic shop near Calabash, N.C. Eggs came from our next-door neighbor and milk came from Mr. Cook's cow down the road. Hunters on our farm occasionally provided us with venison.
Summers were spent picking, shelling, shucking, silking, pickling, canning, blanching, and bagging food that went onto shelves and into three large freezers. We bought very few vegetables from the grocery store.
So, it was quite a shock to move to Greensboro, N.C. in 1979 and experience canned corn for the first time in my life. There were a few years when I simply stopped eating vegetables and lived on ramen noodles, grilled cheese sandwiches, and beer. Once I got over my prideful unwillingness to raid my mother's freezer, life began to balance out again, and I began to understand what a rare gift it was to grow up with the knowledge of where my food was grown.
I spent quite a bit of energy and time trying to prove that I fit in with a more urban, sophisticated lifestyle. Once I felt comfortable with living in the city, I began to feel a strong pull back to my roots. I dabbled with container gardening and growing small patches of herbs and tomatoes in my backyard, but the big change for me came in 2001 when we bought our own house on a small lot near downtown, and I discovered permaculture, the art of creating a functional, sustainable ecosystem following the patterns of nature.
Every season since I began the slow, observant process of transforming our small back lawn into a sustainable source of food, beauty, and spiritual peace has brought me more insight into life and what makes it good. It is amazing what a healing place the garden can be.
Almost thirty years have passed since I moved away from Robeson County, but in my heart I still feel that I am a country woman. As I have learned how much food I can produce in my 1/10th acre lot, I have come to identify myself as a small urban farmer. I discovered Slow Food in 2004 and became heavily involved in the organization of a new convivium in this area. I began writing about my garden, my transformation, and this growing awareness about the importance of local food on my blog, ...slowly she turned in February 2005. Since joining the Slow Food Movement I have found that there are many of us who wish to move into the direction of a simpler, richer life, and who have come to understand that good food is basic to that life.
Eating locally and seasonally is a pleasant challenge. I have discovered a vibrant and passionate community that I did not know existed, and experienced the pleasure of food that has been grown for taste, not travel.
Laurie O. lives in Greensboro, North Carolina and writes a journal about simple living, slow food, and sustainability at ...slowly she turned. She is the webmaster for Slow Food Piedmont Triad.
