The Farm Found the Girl

It's true you can take the girl off the farm, but never the farm out of the girl.  I suppose that's a good thing? 

I had an unexpected opportunity yesterday afternoon.  A friend of mine invited me to take a tour of an "organic" farm.  She lives in Novato, but this farm is very close to where I live.  I have been by there a zillion times but for whatever reason never stopped in.  Of course, we never explore our own back yards. 

I do take a poetic license and poke fun at the "organic" slow-food-organi-yup-craze, but in reality the owners were very, VERY nice and I immediately picked up a good vibe from them.  I did not have the urge to insert their Prius into their anus.  Yup, Quiet Rage is eating crow.  Tastes good with ketchup.

The owners and I struck up a conversation and talked at length about farm food and how to preserve it -- a survival technique that still lives on from my frozen tundra prairie pioneer background.  The woman was amazed that I knew how to can.  I did not realize it was such a lost art.

Guess what.  I'm now canning for them.  It was an impromptu invitation with no expectations, and I ended up making a friend who shares my love of home-grown foods and meats.   I need to retract all my "organi-yup" jokes.