D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
June 2010
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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."
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.