Carol Ann Sayle
"Hey, Lady, want some spinach?" I whispered, conspiratorially. I was in trench-coat mode, dark-alley style. A salaciously tempting tease in the night. Well, actually, it was broad daylight and I wasn't thatt kind of tease!
The farmstand at Boggy Creek Farm was crowded. It was the start of the fall season, and our tables were loaded with squash, green beans, potatoes, and cucumbers. Some baskets of cherry tomatoes added a punch of red and drew folks to them, like bulls to the cape.
The woman whirled around to face me and excitedly asked, "Where IS it?"
"Oh," I said, laughing. "I was just testing your desire. We're still a couple of weeks away from the first harvest!" I knew she could take the "joke," as her trust in us as her farmers was already established. We have fed her and her family for years.
This happened right after the California "spinach scare," the cause of which has never been fully explained to the public by the "investigators." The clues however, point to fields bordering a river, and upstream some sort of dairy feedlot with cows eating grain instead of grass. Somehow, the results of their unfortunate diet entered the river from which was drawn the water that was sprinkled over the many acres of mono-cropped spinach. And then the spinach, harvested by machine, was washed and packaged under many different brand names by many workers, and sent out all over the United States to wreak havoc on the digestive systems of humans, and worse ... But who knows what really happened.