Today is Thursday, and on Thursday, we harvest produce for Chez Panisse in Berkeley. So, M and I drove to Bob’s farm (Cannard Farm– pronounced kuh- NARD) in Sonoma. We arrived a little past 8. We picked raspberries first, then string beans, then zucchini blossoms, then zucchinis. The zucchini plants are prickly, and they give a very hollow crunch if you step on their stems. I didn’t even know the blossoms were edible.

Two classes from Stanford were to arrive at eleven. The plan was to accompany them on a tour of the farm, and have lunch with the students and professors following. Then we heard that one class was a “food and politics” class, and the other a sort of  “varieties of music” class. I don’t need to state why the former class came, but the latter was to collect noisy objects from around the farm, as well as record sounds they heard.

Following Bob’s tour, all of us participated in the making of lunch under the direction of Charlene Nicholson Cannard (who is a chef at Chez Panisse). My goodness—the best pizzas ever, with eggplant, goat cheese, olives, figs, wow. Beans that I picked were made into a salad with oil, herbs, and breadcrumbs, a tomato salad with purple basil, fresh (really really fresh) mozzarella and basil, and zucchini blossoms stuffed with ricotta! Oi, that may have been the most memorable meal of my life. Everything was so great, I felt so lucky to be partaking in it, it felt so great to know that I helped harvest it just that morning.

Then we enjoyed an improvisational musical performance (which quite comically included the word “balls”). It was great, actually. Some of the recordings the students had made of the food preparation played while we ate. It was like a contraction, an audible folding over of the past into the present. The making and the consuming.

Some people ate a cow named Mr. Smartypants, but I didn’t. I said that he must have not been very smart.

Once all the students left, I was wine-tired but, of course, helped with the cleanup. I did my favorite task, though— dishes. Bob washed and I dried. He asked me about the day (he had snuck away after giving the tour—from my understanding, he keeps very busy). This sometimes-called-menial task provided such a great opportunity for conversation, and the task was finished before I knew it as a result.

We talked about food, of course, and I asked Bob if he thought there would be a time when there is not enough food in the U.S. for everyone to eat. He said definitely. I asked him when he think that might happen, and he said within the next ten months. “Within the next ten months? That soon?”

“Yes,” he said, “look at the financial system right now. We’re worse off than in the depression. We are very poor right now [meaning the U.S.].”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Ninety percent of the financial corporations are in the control of the federal government right now… My friend says he thinks we’re turning communist…. If something like that happens, everyone’s going to come to you.”

“Yeah, and steal my food!… You know, I have a garden in Sonoma, in the city. It’s only about two acres, but very nice, and very productive, and I got a note the other day from the city that says it’s illegal to grow crops in the city of Sonoma!”

“What?! Why?”

“I have no idea, it’s just illegal.”

“Huh.”

We also discussed whether one should have their money in the bank right now. He says to keep it in silver and gold. I said to keep it in alcohol.

I really trust Bob and respect his opinion, and to hear from him that he thinks it will only be within the next ten months that our systems of food production and distribution come crashing down really affected me. For some time now, I have been telling people about my anxiety concerning food production and availability. I don’t really know what they think, but I know that most people don’t take me seriously. Perhaps they think I am actually insane when I say, “Hoard food, hoard water, and buy a gun,” and yes, it sounds crazy, but, in fact, the crazy thing is that it’s not crazy. Perhaps that phrase is a bit extreme, but the point is: be prepared, and that can mean mentally as well as physically. Most important, though, is be aware. Our systems our fallible, and are actually now teetering on the edge of complete disintegration. When it will actually happen and what that will result in are the questions to be answered.

Right now, it is bothering me, and I don’t exactly know what to do about it.