Katherine Pioli

My first summer between college semesters I took a job picking fat, green caterpillars off of broccoli leaves. Well, actually, I was interning on an organic farm in New Hampshire, but that was part of the job. We did everything by hand. While the farmer plowed his fields with a pair of oxen we hand watered with watering pails.

I learned the real meaning of pain that summer. I learned pain when the black flies hatched and swarmed me as I weeded, biting my face till it bled and my eyes swelled shut. I learned pain when my back wouldn’t straighten after hours of hunching over starter pots, dropping seeds into soil.

Call me crazy, but once I rose above the pain – it never went away – I really enjoyed the work. Some people just love to farm. And you know what? We should be grateful for those people, because it is hard work that not many of us want to do. And from all that love and hard work comes food that is good for us, and that we enjoy. But the problems for farmers don’t stop after the bugs die and the plants are rooted in soil. They are just beginning, because industrial agriculture with its cheep, abundant food supply has distracted us from these small farmers’ superior products. These farmers need the Wasatch Cooperative Market. They need this outlet as much as we need our local farmers’ food. When I start my fram some day I want to know that there is a place like the Wasatch Cooperative Market. Then I will know that someone will be there to help me get the best of what I make to the people I grow for.

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PO Box 4303, Salt Lake City, Utah 84110 T: (385) 355-5271

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