Slowly but surely, this initiative is becoming more than just a Farmer Ben vision thing. We now have a graphic artist willing to help out and enhance our writing and Power Point presentations. Kevin is taking the time to pitch in and add stylistic and strategic improvements to our presentation piece. In fact, it seems that wherever I go, whenever I tell folks about what I'm up to, people ask great questions. They normally always end up saying, "Great idea." They often send me names of new contacts, and some offer to help out once we really need them. Although we have the beginnings of a world-class board of directors, we're not quite ready to have meetings... but soon.
Today, curiosity leads me to two interesting new friends. Every day, I drive past a bright, beautiful public garden in Stonington. Today, however, I decide to investigate, thinking that it's a community garden.
"Can we help you?" a woman asks, with her friendly voice.
"Is this a community garden?" I ask her.
Sue Bove and Alejandra Welch, who turn out to be co-chairs of the Stonington Community Center's wildly successful kids-enrichment venture explain that it's a children's garden, for kids from nursery school through grammar school. The garden is laid out in raised beds, each representing a different theme, such as urban gardening in the picture here.
I tell them about my experience on the farm this past season, about the blog, and about the Save-a-Farm, Build-a-Community initiative. They seem fascinated, then ask really good questions. Then they tell me about their own experiences. It turns out that Sue's family runs a 2,500 acre potato farm in Hatfield, Massachusetts. Alejandra and her husband, Josh own a beautiful farm on Al Harvey Road in Stonington where they are raising beef cattle. When I ask Debbie what breed they are, she says she believes they're Black Angus cattle.
After a while, both women separate. I walk around the rectangular property and find Sue working by a patch of sunflowers. "Fantastic idea! We gotta get back to basics," she exclaims.
"Thanks," I tell her. "You may get a call some day, once we're rolling." She smiles, and gives me a web address for the potato farm.
I walk over to a tiny demonstration pond where Alejandra is skimming a green, granular vegetation from the surface. A half dozen pairs of Kermit eyes peer from the pond as Alejandra stresses the need for farming education. "Many kids have never eaten a cucumber," she tells me. We talk a while about her farm, and a little more about my idea. "That's a very good idea," she says. "You should speak with my husband," she insists as she takes my pad and writes his name and number on the yellow lined paper.
As we're talking, a medium-size green frog pokes its head out of the pond and looks up at me. "When I was eight, I was the champion frog catcher at summer camp," I whisper as I scoop the smooth green and bronze jumper into my hands.
"Well, you haven't lost your touch," Alejandra offers. I fold my palm flat, low to the ground. The frog breathes a liberating breath, its yellow throat gulping, as it leaps to freedom.
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