dren home, showered them, then frantically began telephoning to find out the spray’s source. After fruitless frustrating hours, he called his state representative, Don Moffitt’s (R- Gilson) home. Moffitt was in Chicago, but his wife eventually tracked down the chemical: Quilt, a fungicide that Jean Payne, president of the Illinois Fertilizer and Chemical Association, says has “low toxicity.”
However, a scientist from the Pesticide Action Network North America disagreed, saying that a one-time exposure to a Quilt component could cause developmental or reproductive damage.
Rep. Moffitt was appalled at the time it took Collins to get information. He’s working with state senators Michael Frerich (D- Champaign) and David Koelher (D-Peoria) who set up the Sept. 30 hearing, which begins at 10 a.m. in Room 409 of the Capitol.
Brockman is encouraging those with personal experience of chemical drifting to testify or submit written testimony (call Sen. Frerich’s office, 217-782-2507, or the Illinois Stewardship Alliance’s Wes King at [email protected] or 217-528-1563 for information) at the hearing; and asking anyone concerned about chemical drift to attend.
Learning about chemical drift problems was upsetting, but the perfect antidote was reading Brockman’s book, The Seasons of Henry’s Farm: a Year of Food and Life on a Sustainable Farm. Henry is Brockman’s brother; produce from Henry’s Farm is sought after by top Chicago restaurants. Brockman writes about food politics, environmental concerns and the philosophy behind them.
But above all, the book is a love story: the love Brockman has for her family, and the love the extended Brockman family has for the land they’ve long farmed. It’s a memoir that traces one particular year, but also reaches back to stories of past generations. It’s called Henry’s farm, but the book illustrates the reality that sustainable farming must almost certainly be a collaborative, usually family, effort. Still, it’s Henry who decides when and where to plant and rotate, makes the calls that risk losing a crop by planting too soon or harvesting too late, and keeps meticulous records of the innovative methods and plant varieties used — some so new, they’re ancient: methods and varieties that work with the land rather than bullying it into submission.
Brockman follows the year by month, although she substitutes the more evocative Native American “moons”: Hunter’s Moon, Harvest Moon, Green Corn Moon, etc. Much of this book is deeply nostalgic for me — from the numbing cold of washing fall produce, the satisfaction of getting the Farmers’ Market load in before thunderclouds burst, and slipsliding in mud if we didn’t, the calm at season’s end when “all is safely gathered in,” to the excitement of the arrival of seed catalogues.
Even without those shared experiences, anyone who’s curious about life on a sustainable farm will enjoy this book. So will anyone who knows or wants to discover what it’s like to live in harmony with the land — complete with pleasures and problems, strife and satisfaction. I highly recommend it.
Contact Julianne Glatz at [email protected].
