This past Shabbat, my boyfriend and I walked from Park Slope to Red Hook, Brooklyn (an hour each way - no, not uphill) to the Red Hook Harvest Festival.  He’d heard me yammer on for a while about the ”real life FARM” in the middle of Brooklyn, but as we passed the many corner stores and high rises that typify the borough, I think he started to doubt that such a place could really exist.  Until we arrived.

In the middle of a once dilapidated asphalt playground, 2.75 acres of earth and plants now thrive.  Brooklyn has a rich farming history - as late as the 19th century, Brooklyn was the second most productive agricultural county in the United States, second only to Queens.  But today, growing anything more than what fits in a window box or on a stoop seems nothing short of a miracle.    

The Red Hook farm was started by Ian Marvey, founder of an organization called Added Value, which empowers neighborhood kids and teens to learn farming and business skills (through farmer’s markets and sales to local restaurants), while strengthening the local community.  According to Added-Value’s website:  

“Twice in the past three years Red Hook’s only full-service grocery store closed, forcing residents to walk three miles and cross an eight lane road or take a $10 cab if they want to shop there. Red Hook was a textbook example of a broken food system and its effects on a community.  Now, we are becoming a model of how residents, businesses, social service agencies and religious institutions can begin to rebuild a food system that promotes social interaction and economic activity while nurturing our health and improving the environment.” 

Folks in the neighborhood know the farm.  Lost in an unfamiliar part of town, I asked a passing teenager if he knew where the corner of Columbia and Sigourney street was (unlike most rural farms, this one has an intersection).  He didn’t know.

“Um, do you know where the, uh, farm is?” I asked sheepishly.

“Oh yeah - the farm’s that way” he said, pointing us on. 

Once inside the chain link gate, the Red Hook Farm Festival seemed like any other fun fall fest - despite the massive Ikea going up, literally next door.  People milled about a pumpkin patch, and wandered through the lush beds, ripe with fall vegetables.  (It is utterly profound how many crops can be grown in such a small acreage).  Musicians played throughout the day, a local hip hop dance troupe performed, kids and adults alike got their faces painted, and demonstrators taught people how to keep bees, compost, and cook delicious meals with seasonal vegetables.  A small goat and chicken pen even rested in the middle of the field - brought there for the day by Heifer International. 

I was giddy.  Here it was, Shabbat afternoon - a time I often spent reading and napping, and feeling nowhere near an accessible farm.  But this week, I was able to spend Shabbat in a way that honored the day, and also my larger community.  It felt like a blessing - a moment of shechechiyanu.

Later in the weekend, my boyfriend was talking to a friend: ”Leah and I went to this farm in the middle of Brooklyn today,” he said.  That’s how legends - and strong, sustainble communities - get started.

More pictures on Flickr here.