Saturday, August 7, 2010


First and foremost, I would like to differentiate between Stealth Farming and something commonly referred to as Night Farming. Growing up in rural Pennsylvania, I was introduced to the term night farming by my father. On a long trek on our bikes one day, my sisters and friend and I encountered what to our tween-age eyes was surely the largest, most fruit laden pear tree on God's Green Earth. On a hot summer afternoon, where the lemonade we had brought for the trip had long since run out, this was without a doubt the most beautiful sight we could ever hope to see. And with no sign of the farmer around, we helped ourselves. That evening, as we shared our adventure with the man now called Grandfather, he told us stories of his youth and helping himself to the neighbors' gardens.

This is NOT what this blog is about.

This blog is about Stealth Farming: Practicing the Rural Arts in a Suburban Setting. Maybe your township, like mine, says you don't have enough land to raise chickens. Perhaps your neighbors, like mine, are happy to attend the pig roast on special occasions, but don't like to admit that the delicious animal they are enjoying died (and lived!) on their block. Or could it be that it is wonderful to eat roast duck in a fancy restaurant, but it is icky to see one served at a family dinner, in spite of the fact that it is highest quality, hormone free, and fed nothing but the best its whole life?

In these hard economic times, small farms -like kitchen gardens- are becoming more popular and perhaps even necessary to the survival of the lower and lower-middle class. More and more are hunting, trapping, and farming to live. Yes, to LIVE.

This blogger has a family to protect, and a low enough income that a fine would be a hardship. So, in stealth, like we farm, I will write.

Stealth Farmer  

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