I clear my plate more than I used to
Jul. 24th, 2023 12:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
resoluteIt's not the money, and it's not for health reasons or some other foolishness.
Since we started our very very tiny urban farmscape, I clear my plate more than I used to.
I know how much work it is for the quail to lay those eggs. It's hard for them. They only do it seven months of the years, five or six for the older hens. We could light the coop and force them to lay in the winter, and if this was some sort of greater food scarcity situation we might. But we do not, we allow the quail the winter off so they can focus on feather production and, you know, surviving winter.
I know how much work it is, I know how freaking much greens and calcium the laying hens need to make these precious, delicious, eggs.
I also know how much work it is for us, and by us I mean the person in the house who takes care of the quail. Food and water, greens and shells, treats and bugs. Checking the temperature, putting ice out in summer and keeping the warming plate running in winter. Cleaning the coop twice a year. Winterizing each fall and taking it down in the spring. Collecting eggs every day. It is so, so much work.
I know how much work it is to grow food in our yard. I grow tiny, small, amounts of food. I know how much work it is, both for the plants and for me. I water and weed nearly every day. Checking the weather every day to see what will be needed. Will it rain? Is it too hot? Do I need to wash the air pollution off of the leaves? Once the produce starts coming in I check every day.
And once I harvest it, I cannot bear for it to go to waste. I've watched those plants strive to fruit, I've worked with them for months. Now there are these glorious raspberries, perfect tomatoes, sweet bell peppers -- I cannot bear to see them wasted.
I've made bread. I've made tortillas, naan. I've cooked soups, stews, and casseroles. I know how much work it is. I know how much goes into the food I make.
This translates for me to restaurants and takeout.
Food looks like labor to me. The labor of humans who cook and prepare it, the work of people in life-threatening jobs as they harvest the food I eat. I see the labor of animals, the effort of fields and crops.
Nothing I eat comes free of difficult, chancy, work.
I make sure my portions are smaller, when I cook. Or I put things in the fridge for later. Same with takeout. I save food for later. I can't bear to throw away the time and labor of so many creatures, human and otherwise.
Nothing is without cost, and I am grateful to everyone who pays that cost so that I may eat.
Pay and protect farmworkers, for fuck's sake.
Since we started our very very tiny urban farmscape, I clear my plate more than I used to.
I know how much work it is for the quail to lay those eggs. It's hard for them. They only do it seven months of the years, five or six for the older hens. We could light the coop and force them to lay in the winter, and if this was some sort of greater food scarcity situation we might. But we do not, we allow the quail the winter off so they can focus on feather production and, you know, surviving winter.
I know how much work it is, I know how freaking much greens and calcium the laying hens need to make these precious, delicious, eggs.
I also know how much work it is for us, and by us I mean the person in the house who takes care of the quail. Food and water, greens and shells, treats and bugs. Checking the temperature, putting ice out in summer and keeping the warming plate running in winter. Cleaning the coop twice a year. Winterizing each fall and taking it down in the spring. Collecting eggs every day. It is so, so much work.
I know how much work it is to grow food in our yard. I grow tiny, small, amounts of food. I know how much work it is, both for the plants and for me. I water and weed nearly every day. Checking the weather every day to see what will be needed. Will it rain? Is it too hot? Do I need to wash the air pollution off of the leaves? Once the produce starts coming in I check every day.
And once I harvest it, I cannot bear for it to go to waste. I've watched those plants strive to fruit, I've worked with them for months. Now there are these glorious raspberries, perfect tomatoes, sweet bell peppers -- I cannot bear to see them wasted.
I've made bread. I've made tortillas, naan. I've cooked soups, stews, and casseroles. I know how much work it is. I know how much goes into the food I make.
This translates for me to restaurants and takeout.
Food looks like labor to me. The labor of humans who cook and prepare it, the work of people in life-threatening jobs as they harvest the food I eat. I see the labor of animals, the effort of fields and crops.
Nothing I eat comes free of difficult, chancy, work.
I make sure my portions are smaller, when I cook. Or I put things in the fridge for later. Same with takeout. I save food for later. I can't bear to throw away the time and labor of so many creatures, human and otherwise.
Nothing is without cost, and I am grateful to everyone who pays that cost so that I may eat.
Pay and protect farmworkers, for fuck's sake.