Meet this week’s Mac veggies:
(Photo coming soon)
- Sugar snap peas — Yum! Yum! Yum!
- Fava beans — See last week’s newsletter for important preparation information!
- Strawberries — We’re nearing the end of our very first strawberry season. It sure has been a delicious one!
- Salad mix
- Butter lettuce
- Chard
- Onions
- Garlic scapes
“Community” has always been a desired concept for Casey and me — we have always thought life would feel richer with a sense of connection to other folks with whom we somehow share our lives.
Perhaps it began in 1999, when we were 18 and 19 and spent our first of many summers living at an “intentional” community in the mountains (Holden Village, a Lutheran retreat center). At Holden, community was an important topic for the retreat center staff, since we lived and worked together and shared every meal, amenities, living spaces, and evening services. The ongoing question of conversation was how to gracefully and joyfully navigate these many over-lapping parts of our lives.
The ideas carried into other parts of our lives almost immediately. The fall after our first summer at Holden, I lived in my ‘own’ space for the first time in an old house with four other young women. In some ways, my one summer at Holden had prepared me well for the experience. Much to my housemates’ amusement, I even suggested that we label house foods with the word “community” so that everyone would know they could partake.
In other ways, I still had much to learn about sharing spaces (I was an only child, after all), and I also had unrealistic expectations about how much my housemates would care about being “intentional” about our own little community. My dreams of weekly “house meals” fell apart quickly under the pressure of different diets (one housemate was doing Atkins; another was a vegetarian) and schedules (night classes versus early morning classes).
Casey was experiencing some community frustrations at the same time, as he lived in a very structured house for male members of a campus ministry. His house shared every single dinner, cooked by the residents themselves on a rotational basis (hamburger helper type meals and koolaid ruled their dining table). Even though the bones of an intentional community were present, Casey found himself clashing ideologically with the other residents (see the above description of the nightly meals) and didn’t connect with them on a personal level.
Both living situations ended early, when Casey and I got married that spring and moved into our own cozy little apartment, where we of course shared dinner together every night (and broccoli, tofu, rice and soy sauce ruled our table!) and started laying the foundation of our life together. We even tried to reach out to other residents of our apartment building (an old stucco 10-unit building with that ancient concept of interior hallways). Over the next few years, we got to know our landlords, had potlucks with our diverse neighbors, babysat their children, and experimented with other notions of community.
After college, we moved back to Holden Village once again, this time for an entire year, thinking that we would finally have our most awesome community experience yet. Close proximity, structured schedules, communal spaces, shared values … surely these were the things that built strong community and connections between people?
Alas, even though we had a very enlightening and positive (and growth filled) year at Holden, full of new friends and some deep connections, we found ourselves coming up against different problems: transience. How can you build real community in a place where everyone is constantly coming and going? After saying good-bye to many new friends, I found myself putting up emotional walls, tiring of the constant arrivals and departures. Many of the long-time staff members seemed to have an even harder time, having dealt with the transience for years.
So, it was a relief in some ways to leave and return to Bellingham, where we had lived before and where many of our old friends continue to live. We started working for a Community Supported Agriculture farm and were delighted to see real community at work in our farmer’s family and friends’ lives. But, as a college town, Bellingham is also a transient place (especially for young people), and we grew exceedingly tired of working so hard to find “intentional” community and then feel ourselves come up against walls. We wanted to feel connected to people in a real and meaningful way — we wanted to feel our lives intertwined with others’ over time and with purpose. Helping friends when they need it, sharing meals, knowing the daily details of people’s lives — these were the things we sought and found were harder to come by than expected.
When we thought about where to go next (hopefully to farm), we investigated “intentional communities” elsewhere, still thinking that the answer lies in structure and explicit intentionality. Instead, we found ourselves drawn to Yamhill County, especially when our initial visits made it clear we would be welcome and could be needed here.
Yamhill County was the first place where we contacted a realtor who was actually happy to work with two young people looking to buy inexpensive farmland — we will always feel indebted to the late Jon Triest for his expert realtor help. After checking out some land with Jon one day, we stopped by Red Fox Bakery for a snack and shared our farm dreams with owner Laurie Furch, who (at least in our memory) literally jumped on the table with excitement and said, “We need you here! Come here!”
To be needed and welcome — these were new sensations for our young selves. Not that we hadn’t had amazing relationships with other individuals in our life before, but previously we had always been on the receiving end of these relationships: the mentored rather than the mentor.
When a land rental opportunity popped up (through the amazingly generous help of many local people — notably James and Susan Ruggles), everything felt as though it was falling into place. Not only had we found a niche for our new life, but we had also found a place where people were open and genuinely thoughtful about what kinds of things and people would grow the existing community.
Suddenly, our notions of “community” became real. Through the start-up of our farm, we found our lives slowly becoming intertwined with others in meaningful and lasting ways. That first year, our CSA members picked up on the farm and helped once during the season with field work, literally acting as part of our farm even as we were becoming an extended part of their family by providing food for their table. Our daily schedules and interests might differ, but we were supporting each other through this intersection of food.
The CSA concept works to build community in many places, but I think that we have had a particularly amazing experience here in Yamhill County. We are only one of many such integral networks of give-and-take, real help, positive energy that bind us loosely together over the years.
Did I say “years”? Yes! That has been the biggest change in our experience of community. We are settled into one place and its diverse (and “unintentional”) community and can now experience how relationships can grow and evolve over time as people (more or less) stay put.
This weekend we had a CSA open house on the farm, where we greeted and welcomed new members as well as folks who have been with us since that first year in 2006. People who started as customers have easily, without much strenuous effort, become treasured friends over the years — companions on this journey of growing through food and community.
Just as one example, the Lee family (Bethany, Bryan, Hannah and Meira) came out for the open house with some out-of-town friends. They have been CSA members since the beginning, and seeing them arrive brought such a huge smile to my face, just because I was flooded with so many positive memories and experiences. Their daughters were quite young in 2006, and I remember watching them eat corn and broccoli raw at pick-up. Bryan was one of many CSA members who helped Casey and I build our house. They have invited us over for dinner many times. There is a strong sense that their family has contributed substantially to our life — and that we have contributed to theirs. This is my new understanding of community and how it can grow over time.
Obviously, we don’t have enough time or energy to be close friends with every CSA member — nor do you all have enough time or energy to be close friends with us! Our farm is just one network, and it has become clear to us from watching conversations at pick-up that there are many networks at work in the wider community. And, of course, we have dear friends who aren’t in the CSA too (other farmers, for example). But, I am continually amazed by how real all these connections feel. Yamhill County might not fall into the category of an “Intentional Community,” but clearly people who live here are very intentional about building community nonetheless!
As we become more and more settled here (and now that we are raising a son!), we feel so grateful to have landed in such an amazing place. To us, it feels unique, but hopefully we are wrong and there are vibrant, growing and evolving unintentional communities across the nation. I do think that every town or city that has a CSA farm is probably improved by its presence (and of course Yamhill County now has several such farms!).
I think it’s important to note that no matter how my own personal concepts of “community” have evolved over time, they have always included the sharing of food. What an easy and powerful way to connect with other people. In fact, sharing a sit-down meal with others actually releases oxytocin in the body — the same “love” hormone that is released through physical affection and during natural childbirth. Sharing a meal is a natural and visceral bonding activity. If you feel disconnected with someone, share a meal!
And, perhaps, that is the secret to Yamhill County’s success. If we all share one love, it seems to be for food and wine — which we produce in great and delicious abundance here. The plenty of our hills and valleys has perhaps unwittingly led us all to love each other (most of the time) a lot. Whatever the case, we’re certainly glad to be here.
Enjoy this week’s vegetables!
Your farmers, Katie & Casey Kulla
