Lattes with Lambs: Behind the Scenes

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Spring (even cold and snowy) is always a really fun time to be on site because of the new additions that join our ranks. That’s right, I’m talking about farm babies. Each February and March, we welcome new Hog Island lambs and Milking Devon calves in a flurry of adorable bleating and wobbly frolicking. This year, to mark the occasion and share in the cuteness, members joined us for “Lattes with Lambs”–an open barn event that included coffee, hot chocolate, snacks, a Q&A with livestock manager Polly Festa, a sheep shearing, and an opportunity to meet the new babies face to face.

I had a wonderful time meeting new members, catching up with familiar faces, and sharing this wonderful place with the people who make it possible with their support. Please enjoy the pictures of the event below, and if you would like to attend the next member event, join or renew by donating $25, $45, or $100 today!  

 

Polly holds a sheep-shearing demonstration in the barn and answers questions about Hog Island Sheep and their wool.

Polly holds a sheep-shearing demonstration in the barn and answers questions about Hog Island Sheep and their wool.

Attendees voted on their favorite names to help name the new heifer calf--Jade!

Attendees voted on their favorite names to help name the new heifer calf–Jade!

New Hog Island lambs meet visitors face to face!

New Hog Island lambs meet visitors face to face!

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Sense and Sustainability: Colonial Maryland Planters and the Land

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“I wonder how I can mess this all up for my kids and grandchildren?” said no farmer ever when looking over his land. Yet for a good 200 years the narrative of American agriculture would seem to imply  that is exactly what colonial American farmers and planters had in mind.

“[W]orking the same piece of land year after year, til it was totally exhausted; after this it was left neglected.” So commented Isaac Weld in 1795 on what he believed was the “ruinous system” of staple crop agriculture in the tidewater. Colonists swarmed the land, consumed every resource, and when those resources dried up they moved on to consume more land. That had been the reason given for a mass exodus of young men and their males slaves to the Ohio country in the early 1770s right here in Prince George’s county. It seems plausible enough, but the question is really, was it possible?

Think about it for a moment: if colonial farmers were truly that ravenous, then how exactly did they survive the first few years, much less over 100 years? These were people who gardened organically (by default since chemical fertilizers and pesticides hadn’t been invented yet) and not only did they survive, but their length of years improved! What was going on exactly? A nice place to start is by looking at what they actually did do to the land.

Colonial agriculture was "sustainable" farming. Can you tell the difference between these farming techniques?

Colonial agriculture was “sustainable” farming. Can you tell the difference between these farming techniques?

English people came here in the 17th century to live English lives in this new world, to tame it, impose their will upon it, and the new world punched them in the mouth. Massive trees with massive root systems made using the plow impossible, and if an Englishman can’t plow he doesn’t quite know where to start. Arriving smack in the middle of the worst drought in 800 years didn’t help matters either. Ironically, it was the native peoples who showed them how to make a go of it by planting not in nicely furrowed rows but hills. If you can’t plant “in” the ground, then plant “above” the ground. Thus began the era of “hill culture” that lasted until after the revolutionary war and the introduction of Jefferson’s moldboard plow.

Tobacco and other crops were planted into hills, during the early 17 and 18th centuries. A farming technique learned by Natives of the "New World."

If you can’t plant “in” the ground, then plant “above” the ground. Tobacco and other crops were planted into hills, during the early 17th century. A farming technique learned by Natives of the “New World.”

It took the English a while to fully embrace the idea. No longer was it about the amount of land one had to farm, but rather the number of hills that one could work. By the last quarter of the 18th century, the average planter was expected to tend to 3 acres in tobacco and 2 to three acres of corn, and they did this with a hoe. You may have 200 acres of land, but if it’s just you then 5 to 6 acres is all you’re going to have in production at any one time. What happened to the rest of the land? It was left fallow—untouched. Colonial people were familiar with crop rotation and they practiced that here; rotating tobacco in a field for 3 years, corn for 2, then maybe wheat for a year.  After this rotation, the field was left fallow for 20 to 25 years.  While this may seem a long time, it did not matter as long as you had at least 50 acres, which insured that every 5 years you could move your fields while allowing the previous acreage to replenish on its own. That is probably one of the most straightforward examples of “sustainability” one could present.

But what about all those accounts of how bad the agriculture was like, Isaac Weld? I’m sure to him it was bad farming. He had just moved here from England, and was  wealthy enough to understand what was going on in England agriculturally at the time. The British Agricultural Revolution began in 1701; the high points of which included:

  • 1701 – Jethro Tull perfects the seed drill that plants a seed at the right depth at the right time almost perfectly. Without the waste inherent in hand broadcasting seed and bird predation crop yields are dramatically improved and without extensive plowing there was reduced soil loss due to erosion.
  • 1730 – Robert “Turnip” Townsend introduced the four field crop rotation to England with clover and turnips put in the mix. In the 17th century one followed the three field rotation of wheat, rye and oats followed by a few years left fallow. With Townsend’s introduction of clover and turnips there was no need for fallowing anymore since clover fixes nitrogen back into the soil. In 1705 England exported 11.5 million quarters of wheat and by 1765 it rose to 99.5 million.
  • 1750s – Robert Bakewell improved breeds of cattle and sheep through selective breeding and by 1786 the average weight of a bull before slaughter had risen from 370 pounds to 840 pounds.

All of this brought great changes to England, and the quality of life generally improved so much so that any Englishman moving here would have been appalled by what he saw Tidewater Potomac planters doing. Of course it was ruinous!  Compared to the remarkable and glorious improvements going on elsewhere, this backwards way of farming was downright insulting (to folks like Issac Weld). But that didn’t mean that what the colonists were doing with the land unsustainable. It was working just fine for them. They had managed a system of agriculture that was contingent on a well managed use of the land, and one that didn’t suffer fools kindly. Their gardens lacked many vegetables simply because the effort involved in maintaining them just was not practical, therefore not sustainable—I’m looking at you asparagus and celery!

Tending the tobacco crops was a long and tedious process done by hand.

Tending the tobacco crops was a long and tedious process done by hand.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not an apologist for colonial planters. However, we beg the question, “Was their form of agriculture sustainable?” Slavery makes the answer an unequivocal no. Sorry. Just no. I think a better way of looking at their practices is not in terms of “sustainable” (because what may be sustainable to you, might not be to someone  or  somewhere else; I mean, do you have problems with crop raiding baboons like Uganda?) but rather in terms of land “connection”. Whether they used verbose language or took a more practical view, colonists had to be deeply connected to their land. It was the only real means to provide for their future and that of their offspring. If one looks at land advertisements from the Virginia Gazette for the 18th century you will find a total of 72 nouns and verbs devoted to agricultural practices. They differentiated soil with 27 distinct terms like pignut, mulatto, stiff, and light. There were 18 for variations in terrain and 37 nouns and 23 adjectives describing the properties of the surrounding water. How does your tap water taste?

Ultimately the colonists failed where the native people always seemed to succeed, and they did so as victims of their success. There were never more native people than the land could support; they moved when they had to. The colonists idea of literally setting down roots meant that eventually there wouldn’t be any more land to farm. Those young men who left Prince George’s county in the early 1770s did so not because the land was ruined, but because there was no more land left to farm. If you have 50 acres and I have 100 acres and they have 500 acres, then at some point you’re going to literally run out of land. That 50 acre minimum, so necessary to a “sustainable” farm, failed to come through when the price of land doubled from 10 to 20 shilling per acre from 1750 to 1775, and more than one son was around to inherit. “Sorry son, I only have 40 acres I can give you and there isn’t any land left to buy.”

So there it is folks; a look at colonial “sustainability” as it were, and of course, there are always different angles and points of view one can take. But for those of us who work in the past and are charged with presenting the past, we try and get as close as we can to their way of thinking and see how that changes the way we view things now. Good thing we don’t have to argue anymore about land, farming, food, how it’s grown or where or how much of it we should eat…

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“Was their form of agriculture sustainable?”

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Foto Friday: Let the Lambing Begin

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Despite the frigid temps and snowy forecasts, spring has officially sprung here at the farm. Each year, Foundation staff begin to fidget with anticipation over the arrival of the new lambs and calves at the farm. With the lambing beginning first (mid to late February) followed by the calving in March, the birthing season is under way. So without further adieu, let me introduce…

The (first) Twins

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Dizzy (left) and Dopey (right) were born February 22 to mother ewe, Desire.

The Un-named Baby

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What would you name this precious little ewe (girl)?

Currently there is a Facebook poll going on to give fans the chance to name this bundle of wool. The only rule is that the name must begin with the letter “N” to match the mother who is named Nicotina (and for accurate breeding record keeping.) So far we have some great names to choose from including Nahla, Nadia, Nanette, Narnia, and Natasha. Check out the post here and let us know what name you would give this precious little ewe (girl).

Soon the new lambs will be joined by more lambs (and calves too!), and within a few weeks they may be seen frolicking in the barnyard. Until then, here are more adorable photos for your viewing pleasure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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What’s Growing On?: Matt’s Garden

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According to Matt, this early Native American platform used by the hunter-gatherer communities of the Potomac will support runner beans and be surrounded by Jerusalem artichokes and groundnuts.

According to Matt, this early Native American platform used by the hunter-gatherer communities of the Potomac will support runner beans and be surrounded by Jerusalem artichokes and groundnuts.

When taking on the Museum Garden, chief interpreter at the colonial farm Matt Mattingly added “master gardener” to his repertoire of extraordinary gifts and talents. Matt has been working hard this winter to transform the interpretation of the Museum Garden, which is located in the park along “Cedar Lane” directly across the Tobacco Barn yard. Through the years, this garden space has been used for a variety of educational purposes from school tours and gardening workshops to a self-guided interpretive space on backyard gardening techniques. This season, with Matt’s direction and the help of a core of dedicated volunteers, the garden will demonstrate the various cultural influences on gardening and agriculture through time.

Last week, I had the opportunity to spend the morning away from the confines of my desk to learn more about the garden’s transformation. In addition to the various culinary herbs and perennials that can be found along the perimeter of the fenced garden space, there will be three sections each for interpreting gardening techniques representative of Native, African and European-descendant Americans. The Native garden area will demonstrate the transition of the People of the Potomac from hunter-gatherers who found food sources among the various native plants of this region like Jerusalem artichoke and groundnuts to the farmers and seed-savers impacted by the arrival of corn to the region.

Stone, oyster shells and wood chippings will shape the "pretty English garden."

Stone, oyster shells and wood chippings will shape the “pretty English garden.”

There will be what Matt calls a “pretty English garden” space which represents the neat and ornamental style of most English-influenced gardens. These gardens had clear and straight paths, were often square or rectangular in shape, and had a focal point marked by a statue or fountain with a place to sit so that the beauty of the garden could be enjoyed. In this space you will find growing Copenhagen Market cabbage, Early Blood turnips, Champion of England peas, as well as varieties of Sweet William, Impatiens, and Hollyhocks.

The final space, and the one that I find quite possibly the most intriguing, is the African keyhole garden. The keyhole garden design is a drought hardy sustainable raised-bed gardening method which uses kitchen and garden waste with water to provide a continual supply of nutrients for the garden. Its name is derived from the shape which is circular with a wedge-shaped opening leading to a basket in the center for compost that looks like a keyhole from above. Planted in the garden will be heirloom varieties like Cherokee Purple tomato and Fish pepper, as well as Collards Georgia Southern and Dipper gourds to interpret the food introduced to the region by Africans.

Matt explains how a keyhole garden raised-bed design.

Matt explains how a keyhole garden raised-bed design provides an ideal growing environment in a dry, hot climate.

To learn more about “What’s Growing On?” in the gardens and fields at the farm, be sure to visit this spring and throughout the growing season. If you’re interested in a more hands-on learning experience with heirloom gardens and sustainable farm practices, get a little dirty and volunteer this year at the farm. Email volunteers@accokeek.org to learn how to become a Green Thumb or Crop Master.

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Some Days: A Poem

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Some days my job I hate
And I feel second rate
On days when the frigid cold
Makes my young body old
Frozen hoses, iced up tanks, extra hay
All conspire to add hours to my day
Meetings cause me to sputter
And pain makes me mutter

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And on top of extra hours of work
Mother Nature becomes a jerk
I find the old hog dying
Beside where she is lying
A wall of ice I must erect
So that no emotions I detect
It keeps me from coming undone
For Death’s lieutenant I become

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As an icy wind there blows
I pray for an end of lows
But farm work is never gone
And so I must march on
For the others have need
So I water and feed
With the last bale of hay
Finally comes the end of day

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I pause on my way home
To let my mind roam
My breath I finally catch
With the bull I play fetch
I as watch him play
My hate melts away
So I thank heaven above
I that I have a job I love

written by Polly Festa

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Sharing Our Holiday Food Traditions: Dishing Up Deliciousness for Thanksgiving

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Office Manager, Patti Norment, and Site Interpreter, Tricia Hardin shares with us their most favorite holiday treats enjoyed by their families on Thanksgiving.

Tricia enjoys a big turkey with all of the trimmings, including whole berry cranberry sauce, while Patti raves about her “mama’s homemade stuffing with hot sausage.” She says that while it is not heart healthy, it is Mmm, mmm, Good!

For Christmas, Tricia makes decorated and iced, rich rolled cookies and sends them across the country to her family.

No wonder we love the holidays – calories galore. Yum!

 

An All-American Thanksgiving.

An All-American Thanksgiving.

What food traditions does your family have during the holidays?

Share with us your food stories or memories on Facebook or email them to us (food pics are always deliciously welcomed.)

 

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Sharing Our Holiday Food Traditions: Nicholas Family Thanksgiving

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Written by Meg Nicholas

When I was little, the late fall season – stretching just past Halloween and going through November – was quite the exciting time for my circle of friends. They were all looking forward to the holidays. And, by the holidays, I mean Christmas. And, by Christmas, I mean they were looking forward to getting presents. I was the odd-woman-out, in many ways, as my excitement was geared towards the special day that fell between the candy explosion bookends that are Halloween and Christmas. I looked forward to Thanksgiving with an excitement that couldn’t be contained and, for some, couldn’t be understood. For the Nicholas Family, it was the One Big Holiday that got the most of us together in one place, at one time.

"I don’t know how it started, or when, or even if it was a purposeful move. All I know is, for most of my life, the Nicholas Family pie committee was co-chaired by Uncle Dan and Uncle John."

“I don’t know how it started, or when, or even if it was a purposeful move. All I know is, for most of my life, the Nicholas Family pie committee was co-chaired by Uncle Dan and Uncle John.”

My family has never been particularly high on the scale of annual household income. I know now that some of those earlier years were pretty lean but, growing up, none of us kids really knew. After all, we had our main needs met. We had clothes and shoes that fit, even if they weren’t what all the “cool kids” were wearing. We had food on our plates – nothing fancy, and much of it processed and not the healthiest, but it was what we could afford, and it gave us energy to go to school, or run and play outside. At the end of the day, we didn’t know we didn’t have as much as everyone else, because we focused on the one thing we knew we had…a family that loved us.

That environment of love and connection, more than anything else, is what made Thanksgiving a day to look forward to. It was the day all the uncles and aunts would be together, rehashing tales of their youthful adventures. It was a chance to laugh and play with all my cousins. And, of course, it was a day filled with delicious food. Thanksgiving was the one time of year when everyone at the table had plenty to eat, and there was enough for everyone to take food home for the next few days. It was a blessing to be able to eat turkey and potatoes and carrots and green beans, instead of the SPAM or Kraft macaroni we often had to make do with.

Thanksgiving prep in a Nicholas house was always a communal effort. Everyone gathered at one house, and one person would be the overseer of the turkey preparation, but everything else was handled by whoever happened to be at hand. One aunt would see to the sweet potatoes, another the regular mashed potatoes. Aunt Roni was never entrusted to any important task, like ham or turkey, but instead was encouraged to make a fruit salad. Mom was usually in charge of the green bean casserole, as well as the all-important deviled eggs.

Kids would be set to work, peeling potatoes or opening cans of mushroom soup, or placing marshmallows on dishes. A constant buzz of conversation filled the kitchen, spanning several generations and bouncing from topic to topic so fast outsiders who happened to stop by had trouble following it. The aunts maintained a careful watch around the hot oven and stovetop, lest little helpful hands stray too close to its hot surfaces. The uncles would drift through the kitchen, thinking their thefts of deviled eggs went unnoticed in the hustle and bustle, never realizing that my mother always made two platters of them, and purposely put the smaller one in the front of the refrigerator for their convenience.

Everyone was welcome in the kitchen. The making of the Thanksgiving meal had no restrictions based on age or gender, except for one. The men of the Nicholas family made the pies.

I don’t know how it started, or when, or even if it was a purposeful move. All I know is, for most of my life, the Nicholas Family pie committee was co-chaired by Uncle Dan and Uncle John. They even had specialties. Uncle John preferred to work with the thicker pumpkin and occasional sweet potato pies. Uncle Dan was known for his cherry and apple. They were things of beauty – apples, delicately peeled and heartily sliced. Cherries, sweet and tart at the same time, bubbled in gooey juice under handmade crusts. Fresh pumpkin was pureed, expertly mixed with spices, and cooked to perfection. There were special tables for the pies, set off to the side in lower traffic areas, so we could be reasonably sure nothing would happen to them before dessert.

This is not to say, of course, that you were excluded from pie-making if you happened to be female. My sister and I and our cousins learned the fine art of baking, as well. It was just that Thanksgiving was the time for the men to put their hands to work rolling out crusts and pouring fruit and sugar into pie plates. Over the years, as the family has spread further, making larger Thanksgiving gatherings next to impossible, my sister and I have taken over the responsibility of making the desserts. Now, I spend the night before Thanksgiving cutting apples and tossing together cinnamon and nutmeg, and the early hours of the morning popping my pie dishes in the oven…but always, in my heart of hearts, I miss those memories of a table filled my uncles’ pies.

Two years ago, my boyfriend excitedly volunteered to make a pecan pie for the first Thanksgiving he would share with my family. I didn’t ask him to. I hadn’t even shared that particular tradition with him yet. So, when he came to me with his plans, I blinked back nostalgic tears and nodded, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. My uncles wouldn’t be with us that year. They were far away, in Montana and Germany and the mountains of Southern Virginia, and my father had long ago lost much of the strength and dexterity in his hands. But here was a man – a new addition to the group – taking on their holiday responsibility with gusto.

Memories are often tied to our senses – particularly to taste and smell – so it seems only natural for all those pleasant memories of Thanksgivings past to be tied so completely to food. Indeed, most of the stories my family tells of holidays gone by revolve around the food that was served. In particular, we recount tales about the disasters: the year Aunt Roni was tasked with bringing the ham, and she stopped at the deli counter on the way to the house and picked up a small package of thinly sliced sandwich meat. The time Uncle Dan put the pies in to bake, not realizing it was set on broil. The top crust of the cherry pie burned, but we pulled it off and ate the pie anyway. The year my cousin Kwana was handed a container full of deviled eggs while she was standing at the sink and she, unthinkingly, put them in the basin with the dirty dish water. The first Thanksgiving when my cousin, Maya, was in charge of making the turkey, and forgot about the second bag of innards until after the bird was cooked.

Of course, none of those things ever ruined the festivity of the day. We laughed about them, scraped burnt marshmallows off the top of our sweet potatoes, stuck undercooked turkeys back in the oven for a little while longer, and reveled in the opportunity to be together. To this day, I remember sitting at the table beside family members (there was no such thing as a “kids’ table” at a Nicholas Family Thanksgiving), holding hands and bowing heads as someone – usually my father – gave the blessing over the meal. The one year I wasn’t able to gather with family on Thanksgiving, due to work, my mother called and put me on speaker phone as one of my cousins offered the blessing. I stood out on the porch, in the cold, as my family shared their love with me from a home miles away.

Years have passed, and it has been a while since the whole family could get together like we did back in the day. We’ve lost some aunts and uncles, and jobs have scattered some of the rest. The cousins have grown up, had families of their own, and my generation has taken on the responsibility of cooking the turkey, supervising the kids around hot surfaces, and sneaking the deviled eggs out of the refrigerator. The hands putting together the days feast have changed, but the love that infuses all of the food is still there.

 

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Sharing Our Holiday Food Traditions: Breakfast with the Big Man

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Written by Brittany Barnes

When I was asked to write about a holiday food tradition that exists in my family I honestly couldn’t think of one. I don’t really have any special holiday recipes that have been passed down for generations nor do I know of anything that requires a “secret ingredient” – at least not one that anyone has told me!

Rather upset by this, I sat in my desk chair and tried to remember something, anything food related from my childhood. Well, my grandmother did make cornbread stuffing, and my brothers and I would always set out cookies and carrots for Santa Clause and his respective reindeer. But there had to be something else. Something that made the holidays special for me growing up. Something that I could share with the Accokeek Foundation Community that encompasses a little piece of my upbringing.

And then it hit me.

I may not have any recipes with secret ingredients or food traditions that stem from my cultural heritage but I do have a special person who I often dubbed my “big man” and who, come 8 am most holiday mornings, was in the kitchen.

Weekends and holidays in my house growing up, I was almost always woken up by pots and pans clanging, the smell of bacon, and The Allman Brothers blasting in the kitchen. As soon as my senses were hit with this combination I would jump up out of bed and run downstairs in hopes of getting the first batch. My dad (who for the majority of my childhood sported a dark brown, wavy mullet) would be putzing around the kitchen surrounded by open gallons of milk, a dusting of Bisquick pancake mix on the counters, and plastic bacon wrappers strewn about. He would often be humming a little tune (usually off beat from the music he was blaring over the stereo) and sipping black coffee from his light blue ceramic mug he rarely washed. When he would see me enter the kitchen, knowing full well that I was vying for the first plate, he would tell me that it would be a few more minutes and I should set the table.

I learned at an early age how to set a table. My grandmother tried to get me to learn a lot of etiquette as a child and I think the concept of “forks go on the left” was the only one that stuck. So on these mornings, I would set the table at lightening speed, pour my brother and I glasses of milk and sit quietly until my dad started to bring out the plates. One at a time, heaping pile after heaping pile of golden brown pancakes accompanied by two slices of crispy bacon would parade out of the kitchen and was placed in front of each one of us as our eyes grew wide with anticipation of the first bite.

But wait, it gets better.

Then out it came, the pièce de résistance, the item that brought our meal from ordinary to extraordinary, one of my dad’s proudest inventions: hot buttery syrup. Which was just maple syrup with a half a stick of melted butter served in a gravy boat but my brothers and I loved it. We would cheer and clap as he set the dish on the table and the sweet smell of the rich breakfast condiment would fill the room. It was the icing on top of the perfect breakfast.

I don’t know if any meal I’ve had in my adult life has ever made me as happy as the days that included hot buttery syrup and pancakes. And while, I started this post fretting about my family not having any food traditions that I could share, the memory of having my “big man” in the kitchen during the holidays and throughout my childhood is something that I now appreciate as my untraditional family tradition – which is how we do most things.

Unfortunately, my dad lost his battle with cancer five years ago and I won’t ever have these kinds of mornings with him again. But as simple as it sounds, it’s the memories of him in the kitchen making pancakes, grilling hotdogs and hamburgers on the Fourth of July, and sneaking cookies from the dessert tray before dinner that bring me comfort. I am also lucky in that those rare mornings I do get to spend with my family, my little brother often takes the reins and cooks up some delicious feast – complete with the off-beat humming.

Food links us all. Whether it is traditional family recipes, meeting a friend for coffee, or baking a cake for someone’s birthday we all have memories and traditions that surround food. And with all the hardships the world faces, it is at least comforting to know that we all can share at least one commonality with each other – everybody eats.

From my family to yours, Happy Holidays. Now, let’s eat!

Brittany with her dad and two brothers in Shenandoah National Park, 1994.

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Sharing Our Holiday Food Traditions: Family Cookie Day!

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It’s official. The holiday season is upon us, which means many of us will be gathering for family dinners and celebrations in honor of our unique traditions and customs. In celebration of food traditions during the holiday season, AF staff will share their most fondest memories involving food, holidays, and best of all, friends and family!

Starting out this week, Laura Ford shares with us her annual family tradition of baking cookies… (Mmm, you can almost smell the cookies!)

[Read more...]

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Faces of the Farm: Becky Seward, Ecosystem Farm Manager

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Every week throughout November the Accokeek Foundation will present video profiles of one of its many “Faces of the Farm.” These videos allow you to get a closer, behind-the-scenes look at some of the faces you see around the National Colonial Farm and Ecosystem Farm at Piscataway Park every day. Meet them virtually, then meet them in person by visiting the farm daily, from dusk to dawn.

The next installment in this video series is the profile of Ecosystem Farm Manager, Becky Seward. Becky is in charge of all Ecosystem Farm programming including the farm apprentice training, the community supported agriculture program, and the on farm markets. Becky spent a few years farming at various sites around the world until venturing back to her home state of Maryland in 2011.

We invite you to get a closer look at the Accokeek Foundation’s Ecosystem Farm and see Becky in her element in this edition of Faces of the Farm!

Faces of the Farm – Becky from Accokeek Foundation on Vimeo.

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