After all my big talk about raising blueberries, lettuce and chickens, there is still nothing to eat on my less-than-a-quarter-acre property that could be characterized as anything but "garnish." At best, I could decorate a plate of store-bought food with a pinch of homegrown arugula sprouts.
But no matter what crops ultimately thrive on my urban farm-let, I think I can already identify the most valuable product of my agricultural efforts. I figured it out when I was perusing Mambu owner Anita Hartel's heirloom tomato starts that she was selling at Marché in East Nashville. That was right after a reader emailed to offer me some chives from her own garden. And right before I went to Fluffernutter's house to inspect her sprawling vegetable beds and scavenge her leftover seedlings of cucumbers, okra and squash.
An unexpected outcome of my Urban Farming project has been my interaction with other growers. Growers--urban and otherwise--apparently, like to share. Furthermore, I've had a nice excuse to chat with my neighbors about the proposed Fox Henhouse and the Great Wall of Corn.*
With this in mind, I might try to assemble a growers' group next spring. Unlike a garden club, which, best as I can tell, is an excuse to eat chicken salad and swap gossip, we will each pick a crop to start from seeds and then swap starts when it's time to plant.
Or we could each specialize in one plant and exchange produce come harvest time. Wait, that sounds like a regression into monoculture. Never mind.
Let me know if you want in on my growers' group--or more importantly, if you think of a good name for it.
*My neighbors endorse both the plan to raise hens (no roosters, of course) and the plan to sow a tract of corn between the street and the sidewalk. My husband cautiously endorses the former but renounces latter as "unkempt."