by: James Simpkins
I like to think of myself as someone who doesn’t miss much.
Not about everything, mind you, but specifically around food related issues. Of
course, this doesn’t mean there is no room for improvement. On the contrary,
the more I look for foodishness around Connecticut, the more I find--the more I
realize how much I’ve been missing. While this week was no exception to that
rule, the folks I came across are birds of a different feather.
Usually, when people talk about the players in food world they
are recognizable entities like Whole Foods, ideas like fair trade or organic,
and brand names like Kashi, Silk or Stonyfield Farms. Others are also well-known
but reside outside the realm of mass distribution, like “farmers’ markets”, “sustainable
and responsible agriculture”, and “compost.” This week, I added “The Unknown
Gardener” to my list of those making a difference in American gastronomy thanks
to two households near North Canton. As I’ve mentioned before, this summer I’ve been driving
quite a bit and have found myself looking for short-cuts wherever I can find
them. Heading north from Canton, Case Street cuts off some distance between
route 179 and route 219 on the way towards Granby and the airport. This wasn’t
a new discovery as I’ve driven this way many times during my tenure in the
Farmington River Valley. What was new
to me was a certain table with fresh cut flowers that I saw a few weeks back. At first I thought this was someone who was trying to make
some money by selling unsuspecting drivers whatever they could pull out of
their backyard. In some ways, I was right. When I stopped being cynical about
it, I realized I was looking at the front line of sustainability, the effort of individuals homes----and driving
right by. So I stopped.
What I saw were four gorgeous bouquets of cut flowers,
protected from the heat by the (now charming) pink umbrella overhead and
sitting in fresh water from which they were certainly drinking deep. These were
not only generic “flowers”, but a lovely mixture of daisies and black-eyed
susans and at least five other types of blooms that I don’t know (I’m not very
knowledgeable about flowers). The result is in an almost wild aesthetic that
brings to mind idyllic, windless, locust-filled meadows of summer that seem to delight
in their efforts in growing under the still, even encouragement of the midday
sun. And they are five dollars. I am nearly sick with appreciation. 
What kind of
person tends their flock of flowers throughout this strange Connecticut summer
then shares them with the rest of us for pennies on the effort? I don’t know.
Somewhat romantically, I don’t want to. It is enough to stop the car, leave my
money on the saw-horse table and look forward to the next time I drive by.
My wait isn’t
long. A mile later I see another umbrella---and more flowers. I pull over
again, incredulous. This time,
however, the scenery is not as beautiful, but more delicious. Underneath this
second umbrella I found a pile of green peppers, as well as a half-dozen or so
cucumbers both proffered for fifty cents each. I don’t care for green peppers,
so I left the pile undisturbed. However, the dollar I had left in my wallet
proved useful and I took two cucumbers for the road. Slicing them for dinner
later that evening I found them as fresh and crisp as my imagination wanted them
to be. The small, white thorns (that’s what the little bumps are) were still
intact on the startlingly unwaxed skin—a perfect cucumber indeed. I put my
dollar in the metal box on the table and yelled a quick “thank you” to the man
working up near the house. He waved and said I was welcome. I certainly felt that way…and for a dollar. I
have spent thousands and not felt the wave of satisfaction that came from
eating those two cucumbers that evening.
I started to
think that I was supporting these folks by putting my six dollars in their
respective pots. Thinking about them again, I realize it is quite the opposite.
Gardeners who will sell their wares to the rest of us are supporting others,
their bodies, their health and their families just by setting up a table and an
umbrella and using the honor system. How many of us can say we do that…and on
the honor system?! What I like thinking about this is that the individuals and
families who set up these tables, these “Unknown Gardeners”, do not think about it like this at all. The
poetry of the offerings demands that the proprietors owners simply be offering
unused blooms and produce on the cheap, unaware of the gift they really are.
Even if they are aware, I still hope they’re making a couple hundred tax-free
dollars on the side. In any case, they can have my money, and my gratitude
along with it.
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