Well, the title says it. Today I went searching for farmers. My organization– Growing Hope (www.growinghope.net) is helping our local Ypsilanti Farmer’s Market attract a greater diversity of customers and more vendors through a marketing campaign… and as part of our efforts to ensure food access for people throughout our community, we’re taking on the pretty big task of starting an additional farmer’s market location and day and time in our (struggling to stay alive, but filled with great potential and awesome 150 year old buildings) downtown. And our new Tuesday night downtown market starts in June, and we’re still in search of more farmers, and backyard growers, and other vendors of cool stuff that’s locally made.

So, I’m spending time searching for farmers, that I wouldn’t otherwise thought fit into my job description. Secretly (well not so secretly since I’m posting it here) I love it. Today I was out searching for plant wholesale places that would consider our nonprofit enough of a business to sell plants at wholesale cost, which meant I also got the chance to drive out into ruralness (which is not so far from me– 10 minutes and you’re in farm land, easily), and enjoy the differentness of life so close to me in an urban enclave. The plants are for us to resell at the Farmer’s Market, since the more product variety at all the booths, the more customers we can attract– and, well, because nonprofs gotta make a penny, too, to stay afloat, and most of the seedlings we’d started in our school greenhouses didn’t quite make it as well as we’d hoped. If you ever have the chance to go to a wholesaler (basically for us they’re just big greenhouses out in the country not spiffed up like they’d be for resale– which makes them all the better to me)– DO… It’s a greenhouse and plant lovers heaven.

As I headed out to find wholesalers, I knew there was the potential to search for farmers, but I didn’t have a set idea about how I’d do it. But one of the things I love in rural areas is the hand written signs along the road that beckon you to “Turn here for fresh ______”…. So, today I followed one such sign offering asparagus, because while I’ve just finished my third day of a great asparagus risotto I made Sunday, I thought I might just find me a farmer– or a small backyard grower, or somewhere in between. I turn down the road towards said asparagus, past fields of peach trees (mental note to turn down this road in early August when peaches are ripe) and towards another sign directing me to turn– into what was really a person’s driveway and house. And, no more signs. Or clear signs of people. As I sat in the car wondering what the etiquette is in these situations– do I go to the door? –do I head into the seemingly open garage door? –do I sit and wait for someone to see that someone has arrived? — well, as I sat there I noticed a small handwritten note and a steno pad taped to the side of a driveway. I went up to it and it read something like “Please write down how much asparagus you want and when you will be back to pick it up.” A woman had written on the pad her name “today if possible” and “3 lbs”. Interesting system. I didn’t want asparagus, but wrote on the steno pad my name and number and a note inviting them to the new farmer’s market. We’ll see if I get a call…

There’s an interesting– disturbing, really– contrast that I noticed today as I kept my eyes wide to look for “Turn here for (insert crop name)” signs and still be aware enough to avoid major potholes– there’s another type of “Turn here” sign that before I was close enough to read it, I often hoped was a farm sign… These, however, are exactly the opposite– they are either 1) For Sale signs, which are in front of more farms than I can stomach, and 2) “New Homes this way…” signs, showing where once farmland, now McMansions/new subdivisions, etc etc. I learned that I had to get pretty close to know which sign was what, and not get my hopes up that another u-pick or farmstand was up ahead, only to be doubly crushed that not only was there NOT such a place, but that where there well might have been one there is now exactly the opposite– a suburban abode with manicured lawns and lots of pavement and no trees taller than 8 feet yet and very likely no vegetable garden, or farm, or chickens with fresh eggs. Interesting how our landscape of signs alone are such an indicator of the changes in our rural vantages…