Every Tuesday we drive out into the country.
Every Tuesday, I fight to keep the monster awake in the back seat as we hurtle down country roads, crashing into potholes and avoiding wild turkeys.
Every Tuesday we head out to Tara Firma Farms to pick up our weekly CSA box.
People here in town are like, dude, there's a pickup down the street from your house. To which I reply that is all very fine and well, but there are no pigs there, or cows or chickens or horses. And the girls aren't there, to talk to and ask questions about the food and figure out the f*** is currently in my veggie box (Kohlrabi??? Weird stuff).
And they don't realize how FUN it is to go out there.
Into the country.
Into the "sticks".
To relive my childhood, where I spent every summer at my grandparents farm in NY.
And while I talk about the importance of knowing your farmer, and knowing your food, and I get onto my soap box every time someone mentions it... I love the food, I love the people but most of all, we just love the farm.