When A Flaming Stealth Banana Split the Sky

A few years ago, my friend Trout had a CSA share with the unnamed university's agricultural extension's wacky farmer training program. The whole idea was new to me when she called one Friday from a business trip to ask if I could go pick up her weekly share. I drove out to the farm, rumbled across the PVC cow catcher and crept along the farm road about a half mile past a house and a sign threatening visitors with dire consequences if one of the resident children or varmints had an accident to the outbuildings in the back. In a small, awkward parking lot, I beached my car when it became completely obvious that 130 sharers were planning their weekly rumble over a two-hour window for pickup and 12 parking spaces; good thing we're all peaceful and organic!

Inside, agricultural students had brought in vegetables, herbs, gourds and decorative plants, counted each and divided by the number of shareholders to formulate a list of what each shareholder should collect. This part of the process was really mysterious at first as I shuffled between ancient supermarket refrigerator bins, trying to figure out what the hell I was looking at and whether or not I recognized it as food. One aspect of the CSA experience is education: the aggies learn how to grow a wide variety of plants and shareholders learn how to prepare tasty stuff they've never heard of. It works great. In fact, it works so well that a couple of years ago, my sister Daria shared a share with Trout and learned to like, then love, sorrel. Daria's sorrel problem was so bad she found herself staring into her reusable treehugger grocery bag, shouting, "WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SORREL?"

(Note: though Daria would rather chew off her French manicure than touch dirt I'm planting sorrel for her in a planter sorrel will like and her homeowners' association will surely disparage. I would bet my shoes the association has not seen anything like full-metal Daria on a sorrel-inspired rampage, and I will laugh and laugh. And have bail money.)

CSA shares aren't cheap. We're looking into them because supporting local farmers is crucial, supporting agricultural students learning organic growing techniques is an investment in a healthy future for us all and because, dang it, I have a lot to learn and can't wait to give new things a try. A CSA share, if we were lucky enough to get one, would be on the outer, pointiest edge of what Pete and I could afford if we pinched a few pennies and watched black and white TV. That could be funny. Plus: we're going to learn to grow sorrel in a hostile environment.