There was a time when nearly everyone had a garden. During WWII it was called a "Victory Garden," which encouraged American citizens to band together for a common cause: patriotism. And "patriotism" in the early 1940s could be seen--literally--as rows of vegetables and fruits dotting the landscape. The cost of transporting produce during wartime was prohibitive, and rationing was in full swing, so 20 million Americans contributed to the war effort by growing their own food--anywhere they could, be it back yards, empty lots or city rooftops.
Of course, farmers had provided for themselves and others in this manner for centuries. It's the cornerstone of civilization--necessary, often backbreaking work. Yet along the way, people started realizing the important life lessons that could be coaxed from the soil. Communes sprouted like bean plants in the 1960s, as the era of "free love" took root. These "intentional communities" were filled with "back-to-the-land" utopian principles of equally shared economies, non-hierarchical structures, group decision-making and ecological living. Although communes are often thought of as an American phenomenon of the Vietnam era, they actually popped up all around the world, and many still exist today.
Here in America, where capitalism is (rightfully) king, hippie-era notions no longer hold sway. Or do they? Let's face it, many of us yearn for the "good old days," when we recall running, as children, through mazes of corn in our grandparents' gardens. Who among us doesn't have happy memories of accompanying friends and family members to the local farm for berry, apple and pumpkin-picking excursions? Yes, my friends, we yearn to be a part of nature. It's in our DNA.
Yet the truth of the matter is this: we require that nature be on our terms. Our homes should be set on rolling green hills, but NOT include actual wildlife in our intimate living spaces. Grass has always been thought of as good, (hence the reason for our homes set on golf courses) while dirt is bad. Just watch a Tide commercial from any era, and you'll be reassured of the collective American consciousness toward the great outdoors. We want to interact with nature only to the degree that we can control it.
There are arguments for and against this kind of thinking; it's a topic that should be explored by environmentalists far more knowledgeable than I. Suffice it to say that this "is what it is," as they say. So how do we reconcile it all? By going back to our old ways--with a new twist. A modern way of living among the green hills, but without all the weed-choking, wildlife-endangering chemicals that ensure the green-carpet golf course look: welcome back to the farm.
This is not your grandparents' idea of home-grown living. The new-and-improved farm communities boast ritzy state-of-the-art houses around multiple green spaces. Many of these spaces are honest-to-goodness farmland. These professional plots are not tended by residents, but by paid staff who toil for the visual and culinary pleasure of community inhabitants.
Residents pay a premium to watch from their front porches others weed, gather and harvest the goods that they will purchase around the corner at the development's very own farmer's market. Think aristocrats and serfs--if the serfs actually got paid to feed the rich. Some think it's an excellent idea, others tout it as the perfect blend of old school and innovation. The "agrihoods," as they're being touted, capitalize on this extreme farm-to-table trend, and they're popping up all around the nation. Places like Prairie Crossing, just outside Chicago, The Cannery, near Sacramento, California, and Willowsford, just beyond the borders of Washington, D.C.
I think the idea has merit. In an era of increasing isolation (people sitting at restaurants paying attention to their smart phones rather than their dinner partners), an attempt is being made to reconnect people with the land, and with each other. I'm sure the irony is not lost on anyone; the idea of dishing out dollars to live the same simple existence as our struggling ancestors smacks of an infinite cosmic jest, yet if the concept flourishes, who knows...maybe it will trickle down to the vast majority of Americans, becoming an economically viable way to enjoy nature, and a revitalized sense of community.
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