It was one of those moments that make you wonder if you are raising the biggest brat in the world- or the coolest. It was a cold, dark, winter night and, like all good moms, I was obliged to throw something that looks like a vegetable on my 4-year old’s plate. She looked at the old, pale orange, pre-packaged Baby-Luv Organic Baby Carrot (machine peeled- standard size), put it in her mouth, chewed, looked me straight in the eye, and spit it out. Shocked, I sent her strait to her room. On the way there she turned, crossed her arms, stamped her right foot and said “I WANT A PURPLE CARROT FROM THE GROUND,” and ran to her room in hysterics.

When things calmed down I explained “We can’t get purple carrots anymore.”

All summer long she had eaten carrots of all colors pulled from the verdant soil on the Cosmic Apple Farm. “Why not?” she asked, wiping the tears with her shirtsleeve.

“Oh baby, I don’t know why not,” was all I could say, not knowing where to start.

It seemed impossible to believe we could have purple carrots again before July, but only a week later at a Christmas party we were served a beautiful platter of veggies that included purple carrots from the cellar of Alta gardener, Bob Gammelin. What seemed like a miracle was simply the way things used to be.

I wasn’t here, but I can only assume that Teton Valley Old-timers, like the rest of the country, went into winter with a bounty to tide them over. The land that now sprouts houses once provided sustenance for the entire community for the whole year. You grew your own food, or at least knew who did. You could drink milk from the cows in your neighborhood. You tasted the mountains, fresh air, and clean water.

As I write this, wondering if it really is true that people WANT to farm here, I look out the window as my neighbor Ray Gordon, born in Teton Valley 80-something years ago, climbs (this literally takes over 10 minutes) into his green tractor for a sunset project around the farm. He’s sold some of his land and will never have to worry about money. What he worries about is that what he has left will be gone forever and never feed another cow or grow another raspberry, rhubarb, or bunch of fresh asparagus.

No one is advocating a return to the dark ages. But reviving our local food economy has the potential to unite our divided community, save our agrarian heritage, help slow global warming, and preserve the beautiful scenery we treasure. And of course it will help improve our quality of life via the consumption of fresh, nutritious, delicious food.

There are so many issues surrounding food consumption that it is easy to become overwhelmed. We have thought only of our own personal health and pleasure for too long; the state of the planet and its people is now forcing us to contend with the environmental and social issues we have created. None of us are perfect, or rich, or has enough time. OK, some of us are rich, but just do what you can, enjoy every bite, and give thanks for everything the earth has to offer.

Thank you for what you can do to help revive our local food economy.