On mountainous terrains such as these everything appears plateaued, making a clear distinction between ground and sky, people and god. Here in the valley, farmers pick up where god’s labor ends, making use of the earth to bring parsley, basil, sunflowers…okra, and tomatillos to bloom. A and I bike from Northampton to the Mountain View Farm in Easthampton for the week’s produce.

My attention is drawn from the exertion of the ride to the surrounding foliage. Dark greens taking turns to catch sun and throw shadow against our backs. How reassuring that New England’s flora retains the entirety of its charm across the seasons. My companion pedals with focus, so I abandon marvel and keep steady on my path.

Half an hour later, we are at the farm. It is expansive, cultivated land covering most of the property.

The farm practices Community-Supported Agriculture (CSA), a farming model that distributes risk between farmers and shareholders who prepay for the season’s harvest. In some models, like the Japanese Teikei, consumers provide labor as well as capital.  

And so, each week, sharers flock to the base of Mt. Tom for whatever’s in season. Here, where the food industry is an unknowable behemoth, the appeal of fresh and locally sourced produce (and of the community the model makes possible) is undeniable.

We pick and weigh our produce ’til the seven-pound limit is met. Our pick today: cabbage (baby and Chinese), kale, peppers (bell and hot), beets, and squash. (We both favor carrots and green peppers because squash is frankly overrated.)

Next: the tomatillos.

Ok Google

Hi, how can I help?

How do you harvest tomatillos?

Your phone’s offline so I can’t help you with that at the moment.

I suppose I could ask the man standing a few feet away but that would be too reasonable. I feel my way around the little husk tomatoes…here small, there big, all unripe and sticking to their shells…letting the fruits speak to their readiness. Pedaling back, I try to recall what it is I dread of the idyllic but my mind is reluctant to speak against its own joy. Salsa verde, here we come!