Conrad Boyce is the editor and publisher of the Cosmos. He has a BA in English from the University of Alberta and a diploma in journalism from Grant Macewan Community College in Edmonton. He lived and worked in the Yukon and Vancouver Island before arriving in Ontario in 1995. Beyond these pages, he is the Artistic Director of OnStage Uxbridge, and the technical manager of the Uxbridge Music Hall.
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A gentleman farmer
Being from Alberta, there was a part of me that always wanted to be a farmer. Well, that part of me is now happy. Because I am one.
Okay, I don’t own fifteen sections of jet-black humus, conscientiously rotating my thousands of acres among various grains, dairy pasture and a vast herd of old-DNA bison.
Okay, I still don’t have a clue how to operate a thresher, or even a John Deere lawn mower. I don’t have a dozen chickens in the yard, a couple of horses in the barn.
Heck, I don’t even have a barn.
Nevertheless, I consider myself technically a farmer. Because a couple of weeks ago, my wife and I invested in a “spread” up on Ashworth Road, far from the urban hurly burly of Reach Street. We laid down a few hundred bucks as seed money in what used to be known as Cooper’s Goat and Veggy Farm.
And it’s not exactly venture capital, because this, my friend, is a well-established, prosperous operation. In my conservative estimation, the Coopers have about 5,000 beautiful acres, and a herd of about 999 gently bleating goats, not to mention other assorted domestic fauna.
I stand to be corrected on the actual numbers. It may be that my enthusiasm about being a farmer has caused me to look at the Cooper spread through rose-coloured goggles. But I base my analysis on the fact that the Coopers, Steve and Lisa, without even a careful examination of the Farmer’s Almanac, have promised me, their new shareholder, a dividend of two full boxes of fresh produce every week for 20 weeks.
This is breathtaking. I picked up my first dividend this past weekend. Inside the boxes there was delectable rhubarb, succulent spinach, pungent green onions, crisp asparagus, and the tastiest lettuce I have ever torn into a salad bowl.
I am, unfortunately, unable to tell you what exact varieties of spinach or lettuce were contained in that box. When we went up to the Cooper’s open house earlier this month, Steve took his prospective shareholders on a tour of the spread.
Note to Self: I must ask Lisa or Steve. With my money, did I purchase just a share in the business, or do I now own a hunk of the land as well. Is that row of tomatoes over there being nurtured on my very own “bit of earth” (as the gardener calls it in one of my favourite books, The Secret Garden)? I don’t recall receiving a deed, but perhaps it’s worth looking into.
At any rate, during his tour of the spread, Steve mentioned a bewildering variety of vegetables and fruit. So many kinds of peppers, so many colours of potatoes (back in Alberta, I had no idea that yellow potatoes, let alone blue ones, even existed). Not having my reporter’s notebook at the time, I failed to take note of all of them. This will make my enjoyment of my dividend a little lacking. One should always know as much as possible about what one is putting in one’s mouth.
But I’m sure that, now that the Boyces have a piece of the Cooper action, Steve won’t hesitate to give me another tour whever I have a question about my farm.
My farm. That has a very good ring about it.
I think I read something in the Cooper’s press release about Community-Shared Agriculture, that hundreds of farms like theirs, all across Canada, are similarly inviting city slickers like me to “purchase a share in the annual harvest”, and that thousands of newspaper editors and other black thumbs just like me are now experiencing the bliss of farmerhood.
But for a prarie boy like me, it really doesn’t matter whether or not my farmer experience is unique.
It’s still special to feel even this slight connection to the land. And to share in its bounty.
So thanks, Steve and Lisa, for sharing the joy of being a farmer.
