Archive for October 28, 2009
Filling One’s Proverbial Cup at Hanson Cranberry Farm
We are all cups, constantly and quietly being filled.The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over
and let the beautiful stuff out.
- Ray Bradbury, 1920-
Hanson, Massachusetts
This image was taken last year in Hanson, Massachusetts, while on a “photo safari” with my buddy Patricia. The fall foliage season inspired an epiphany that I didn’t need to go to a far-flung, exotic locale to find new beauty and that perhaps I might consider looking more closely at my own “backyard.” I hoped I could interest a travel editor in a piece on the splendor of New England’s change in season.
My proverbial sandlot of the Bay State happens to produce 35% of the world’s cranberries. Those are pretty big bragging rights given that 70% of the state’s growers are small family farms with less than 20 acres of bogs. The majority of cranberry growers are multi-generational families, some fifth and sixth generation, with two to three generations often working and living together on their farms.
The Kravitz family of Hanson is among them and Adrienne, 37, was kind enough to give me and Patricia a tour of her family’s operation, which she runs with her father, Stan, 60. Adrienne left an executive position with a global consulting firm to help her dad manage the enterprise–he had been operating the farm alone and had experienced some ill health. She was also motivated by a desire to “work with the land and produce something that is good and good for you,” in her words.
The Kravitz father-daughter duo makes a good team, and their mutual respect and affection for one another was obvious. With Stan’s good-humored and patient prodding, I stepped out of my comfort zone and climbed up on a “berry washer,” a chugging, heaving contraption into which tons of cranberries were being dumped, washed and sorted. The shot above was taken from its heights.
I met the Kravtizs through Ocean Spray—rather than the corporate conglomerate I had thought it to be, I found out on this excursion that it is an agricultural cooperative owned by cranberry growers throughout North America. The coop was formed in 1930 in Hanson by three cranberry growers led by lawyer and cranberry grower Marcus L. Urann. Today, there are about 600 members.
Since early man worked together as hunters and gatherers, people have been cooperating to achieve goals that they could not accomplish alone. Ancient Babylonians practiced cooperative farming and the Chinese developed savings and loan associations dating back centuries. A mutual insurance company was organized by Benjamin Franklin, among others, in 1752.
Welshman Robert Owen is considered the father of the modern cooperative movement. In the 19th century, he applied humanitarian principles to empower workers in his cotton mills in Scotland, where the first co-operative store was opened. The Rochdale Society of Equitable Pioneers was a group of 28 weavers and other artisans who came together in England in 1844. They sought to collectively counter the challenges that the scientific advances of the Industrial Revolution created for skilled craftsmen. The result was the development of the Rochdale Principles, an enduring model for co-ops.
Farmer Henry Hall, the first known cultivator of cranberries, found inspiration in perceiving an unexpected phenomenon affecting his crop as an asset rather than a problem. In 1816, when he started cranberry farming, he noticed the fruit was larger and juicier where a layer of sand from the Cape’s dunes blew over the vines. A successful technique was born that is still used today.
Beyond a sprinkling of sand dust, cranberries require a special set of circumstances to flourish–acid peat soil, fresh water, a long growing season stretching from April to November, and a dormant period in the winter months. The beds that cranberries grow in are known as “bogs,” created eons ago by the movement of glaciers. While we tromped around her property, Adrienne pointed out that the bogland also serves as a wildlife sanctuary, providing habitat for creatures such as the bald eagle, osprey, great blue heron, fox, deer and wild turkey.
Wildlife of another sort inspired the career of the author quoted today, Ray Bradbury. While a young boy growing up in Waukegan, Illinois, he chanced to have a conversation with a magician in town with the traveling circus. As to be expected from chats with men of magic, it was a profound experience for young Ray. Mr. Electrico told him they had known each other in another life, as World War I comrades in France, where Ray had died in his arms. The magician then told Ray he could see his friend’s soul shining from Ray’s eyes. Bradbury had seen Mr. Electrico under the Big Top the night before. As part of the performance, the magician emerged from a stint in his electric chair to tap Bradbury on the brow with his sword, while proclaiming “Live forever!” The sword’s charged particles produced sparks from Ray’s ears; a few days later, he began writing.
I have always loved the tart and tangy taste of cranberries. Over time, my appreciation has grown for both the bitter and sweet in life, and my understanding has evolved that the threads of both are intertwined, like the submerged vines that support the vibrant, robust cranberries. The sands of adversity and regeneration of quietude create a healthier, stronger fruit. Acknowledgement and gratitude for life’s yin and yang has meant an acceptance that I can only “tip myself over and let the beautiful stuff out” when my proverbial cup has been filled. I am grateful to all the people who replenish my supply in this circus we call life, in whatever form the interaction may take–be it leaf-peeping jaunts with friends like Patricia, chance encounters such as my hour with the Kravtizs on their cranberry farm, or a moment of insight and intimacy with a literary genius through his written word. By offering each other sustenance and inspiration, we do indeed live forever.
For more images of the Kravitz’s cranberry bog, see the New England section of “Travel Photos.”
