photography: Buff Strickland
Jason Mann collects kale and squash from the abundant rows that provide weekly produce to about 100 CSA members. |
Now imagine that company as a small, always local farm. Sometimes it's organic, but that's a USDA-complicated buzzword that's irrelevant if you know and trust the farmer and can visit the farm. You can touch it, walk through it, drive by it and enjoy the view, or let your kids run around in it picking strawberries. Finally, imagine eating dinner knowing exactly where your food came from, who grew it, and that your connection to its presence out in those fields supports a new convenience—the local brand. 
photography: Buff Strickland
|
"It puts a face on the food," Jason says. "Basically, a CSA allows eaters and farmers to be in direct contact with each other. There's no greater certification of the food's quality than my handshake with the consumer." Jason, the "producer," embodies the new, small, locally supported farmer. He's a Ph.D. candidate in agroecology at nearby University of Georgia, but he also knows how to run a business and has a vision far beyond the 7 acres of this Full Moon Cooperative operation. The CSA movement is youthful and gaining fervor, but it's also rooted in our nation's agricultural traditions. The consumers, the "eaters," used to be VW bus-driving flower children. Now they're soccer moms, urban hipsters, Gen Xers, and baby boomers. They're the people who want to take local to the next level because they like feeling connected to their community and landscape— and they like the taste of good, fresh, clean food. They'd rather pinch a few pennies at the mall or electronics store and spend a few extra dollars a week on honest food. Food with a face on it.
photography: Buff Strickland
Laura Brams, in hat, co-owner of Full Moon Farms in Athens, Georgia, displays mixed greens gathered with the help of two volunteers. |
| 
