Hemlock Tea Anyone?

Karen and I have returned from about 29 hours in the DC area, where we celebrated our 24th anniversary with old friends, not so old really, I've only known them about 34 years, Karen about 19. Back in July I bought tickets to Red Hot Patriot: The Kick-Ass Wit of Molly Ivins, thinking it would be fun to watch Kathleen Turner bring Molly Ivins into real time. I came away thinking maybe I should, uh, buy some poster board and plant myself in front of someone who doesn't want to see me, say maybe a CAFO (concentrated animal feeding operation) or Monsanto headquarters. Hey, then I'd get to see my St. Louis friends again.

"Why don't you march during a Presidential debate or knock on doors during the next 3 weeks?" says Virginia.

Well, I might have some fairly strong feelings about those matters, believe it or not, but I seem to feel even more strongly about the food we put in our mouths, which not many people care about. A sneaky suspicion suggests that food is one reason many of our loved ones die prematurely. A healthy fear warns that even though Karen and I are trying to achieve a good level of self-sufficiency on Elk Cliff Farm, it's too late. Twenty-two years of regular exercise and less than a decade of garden-fresh produce, put-by food, and grass-fed meats and bar soaps aren't likely to counter a lifetime of pesticide exposure, thirty-five years of corn fructose, and a continuing addiction to mass-produced chocolates and peppermints.

Heck, you should taste some of the heritage tomatoes we've been finding on the greenhouse vines. I doubt you'll be able to buy their robust taste in a grocery store, even a Whole Foods. Hey, let's stop griping about the prices at farmers' markets, I mean markets where folks who live near us sell food they have grown for our unpoisoned enjoyment. Is it worth paying less for "vegetables" and "fruits" bred to be hardy enough to travel 1500 miles to our tables, tasteless until we spice them up a bit? Something tells me dark lighting and lots of hot sauce are not macho or cool, and the hidden ingredients are not something our great-grandparents nibbled.

Nah. I don't think I'll be driving to Monsanto, but we might go near there to see friends. Watch out!