Regional identity in the U.S. is a funny thing. You don't really think it exists until it does; you cross a boundary, even just a state line, and things look a little bit different. I grew up in Maine, which has a very strong identity, particularly along the coast (we could break this down to micro-regions, or bioregions, but I'll spare you.) I recently moved to Vermont, which is a mere 250 miles away from my hometown. Yes, it's still a rural state in northern New England, and there are a lot of similarities between the two states. But even so, there are times when it feels like another world entirely. There are mountains everywhere here, and no ocean. There's a mighty big lake, but no commercial fishermen. There are lots and lots of old dairy farms. The sky looks bigger here, there are different kinds of trees and rolling hills, and the people (by which I mean the real Vermonters, not the imported "flatlanders") have a very different accent than "Mainers".
You might not pick up on all of this, but it exists, I swear. Which brings me to the purpose of this post. As much as we are connected to national and global systems and identity, we are still very localized. We live in unique and somewhat disparate places, and that is something to celebrate. Working to create sustainable local and regional food systems that capture the uniqueness of place is both a way to do celebrate region and to strengthen identity. Every area has it's own food and agricultural support resources that are primed for collaboration. It is the process of organizing locally grown and locally processed food to work within a system that does not always happen. We ship our raw product elsewhere, rather than process it close to home. We buy food imported from far corners of the world rather than the farmers down the road.
Each region should embrace its unique food producers and cultures. In Vermont the local food system plays out something like this: There are lots of old dairy farms, and milk and cheese production is still an important part of the modern agricultural community. Recent efforts have been made to keep milk and cheese processing and consumption localized, rather than sell to larger, more removed processing companies. AT the same time, dairy farmers are looking to diversify their income. Some start vegetable farms, local meat operations, the all important grass farm, or, most innovatively "cow power," a system that converts cow waste into usable energy. Meanwhile, vegetable growers also use cow waste for fertilizer and rent pasture space with a neighbor's grazing livestock. They sell to local restaurants, schools, and markets and are aided by local mechanics that can repair tractors and local farm supply companies or equipment cooperatives. Together they create a system, supported by the local government, which has launched an initiative to strengthen the regional food system as an important and re-emerging sector in Vermont's economy.
Clearly, this is a simplified overview of Vermont's food system. In reality it is an amazingly complex web of interdependent relationships. It is also amazingly specific to this small, northern region. The climate is a force to contend with, and it takes some skill to get the most out of a very short growing season. It is also a challenge to farm a rocky mountainside, and to revive the thin soil left depleted after generations of farmers have had their way with it. Vermont is disconnected from major market areas; there is no city close by and a localized food system is even more necessary because of the geographic location.
By building strong regional food systems, we can rebuild broken regions; reclaim the whispers of regional identity that remain in spite of globalization. I'm not saying that globalization is bad; in fact I think it's a hugely positive development. But I do think that it is important to simultaneously cling to the localized, especially when it comes to food and agriculture, in order to ensure sustainable communities and celebrate the distinctiveness of where we live.
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