Good to call this Home.
We took a vacation. And—I think—we managed to pull it off.
Joined by two of our good friends, this past Monday we headed out towards Enchanted Rock for a few days, buoyed by homemade s'mores and the promise of granite-colored days and zero agendas.
Did we spend the majority of this week spotting roadrunners and analyzing coyote scat? Yes.
Did we while away many a minute searching out errant plops of melted mallow from our sleeves? Yes.
And did it feel grand to take a moment from our farm to reacquaint ourselves with the notion of enjoying nature without a single care as to whether that patch of cactus there or field of bluebonnets here will turn a profit? Hell, yes.
Of course, now we're back and right in the mix. This morning McFarmer headed off to get some early-sun weeding done as I toddled over to the nearby elementary school for Career Day. I had the good fortune of visiting last year for the same event, and both times now it's been a most rewarding experience.
Seeds. Turns out—they're amazing.
Sitting cross-legged on the carpet, each gaggle of 4-5 year olds discusses with me what a farm does (grow food), how food gets to us (grocery store, restaurants, markets) and how those dang ol' watermelons and carrots grow anyhow.
Both kids and adults are capable of endless wonder once we consider how much magic is stuffed inside the tiny compact world of a seed. We then top that off with arguments for why earthworms, bees and ladybugs are the coolest (eat and improve soil, pollinate and make honey, act as warriors of the garden). By the end of our 20 minutes, the kiddos from Hitchcock Primary School are eager to hoe their own row of organic taters.
Truly, I'm honored that the schools are interested in learning more about farms—organic farms, especially. In an area that is no stranger to agriculture but is more familiar with conventional rice, sorghum and cattle than organically-grown fruits and vegetables, it's heartening to be given a chance.
Of course, it's not just the schools that give us a chance. It would be wholly misleading for me to claim that we've had a hard go of it, growing our humble fruits in Galveston County. As I've said before, it's quite the contrary. The citizens of this community embrace us and constantly reach out to us with words of support, requests for visits and offerings of help, able hands and good ideas.
One of the more delicious vows of support has come from our restaurant partners. The Pelican Club at Gaido's in Galveston is a steady customer of ours, sourcing many of their menu items directly from our fields.
Our relationship with The Pelican Club has been cooed over on this blog before, but it bears repeating as the restaurant has officially re-opened and we've officially had the full taste-test of their menu.
Last week, McFarmer and I were lucky enough to don some clean, spiffy duds and waltz over to the swanky Pelican Club. From the hand-crafted cocktails at the bar to the carefully-constructed appetizers (hint: try the smoked trout cakes!) and perfectly-dressed salads (grown and harvested by us!), the entire dining experience was one to savor. We're not the only ones who think so--check out this great article from the Houston Chronicle citing the injection of yum + class that the Pelican Club brings.
My favorite part? Listening to the waiter give us the fancy-waiter spiel, citing “Moon Dog Farms, a local fruit and vegetable farm” as one of their main sources for their produce, and then giggling endlessly at our own damn luck once he walked away.
So here's to continued changings of the tide, and folks--preschool age and older--who value the wholeness of food from down the road. It's good to have support in this community. And even better when you can eat it.