bigstockphoto_Autumn_foliage__780808.jpgI wanted to relax yesterday, get out into the crisp sunny air, be with the peak fall foliage of New Hampshire and Vermont. And I did, but somehow, the tenor of the last week—small farms facing hardship and regulatory pressures—seemed to intrude, in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.

 

On the not-so-subtle, I received a letter from Maryellen,  of the two women who run the Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program I joined this past summer in New Hampshire (and whose produce I enjoyed immensely).

 

“This turbulent mix of season-ending feelings holds extra challenges for me this year,” she wrote. “While I love this garden and a part of me will always be there, the last few years raise immense questions of agricultural economies of scale and financial viability. Making it financially as a farmer is challenging on its own; but trying to buy land to build a home, and have children, with one spouse farming, appears to border on the impossible. Critical assessment of my farm operation leads me to conclude that I either need to scale up the garden’s size dramatically by finding four to twelve additional acres within a ten-minute drive, or we need to move to a new farming situation where there is more financial remuneration (so we can save to buy farmland and have a family). Over the next three months, my husband and I will be examining our options and deciding whether or not we can afford to continue farming and living in (this) area.”

 

While she promises the CSA will continue in any event with her partner, her letter simply underscored to me the marginal existence many sustainable operations experience, made ever more risky by the regulators who are ready to pounce should you show signs of breaking out of the mold and actually building a growing business.

 

Next, I went by the Norwich (VT) Farmers Market, which I hadn’t been to in more than a month. An apple grower was there with fresh cider. Was it unpasteurized, I asked. “Absolutely,” he said. “Let me have a half gallon,” I answered.

 

I told him about the problems in nearby New York state (from my previous post), and he told me Vermont still retains the exemption New York once had, allowing direct sales by farmers to consumers. Sales of unpasteurized cider to wholesalers and retailers are out.

 

From the look in his eye, I could sense unease, as he assessed the narrowing options in his business.

 

A farmer I buy grass-fed beef from was there as well. I purchased a few things, and inquired about where she has her cattle slaughtered. At a USDA-inspected slaughterhouse in northern Vermont, she told me. Was she satisfied with it? Yes, she said. It’s clean, and she knows she receives her own meat after it’s aged. “But they aren’t all like that, I know,” she added. And in her response I sensed the uncertainty that comes with being dependent on a single reliable supplier to perform a key function for your business.

 

All of which made it not so difficult to imagine a scenario like that described by AnnaMarie and a few others, where whole food is purchased quietly, secretively, via a black market. An unpleasant situation in so many ways, except for one: the government wouldn’t get its bite of taxes.