Going Hippie

Stoneledge Farm, New York

I grew up in New Hampshire, just over the border of Massachusetts. Some would call it “Boston overflow.”

I also went to the University of New Hampshire (UNH) where lots of “crunchies” and hippies resided. (Crunchie defined as: a neo-hippie-- 3/4 preppy, 1/4 hippie; rainbow sandals and Lacoste polo shirts are common along with tie dye, drum circles and tapestries hung on the walls).

When I lived in the upper quad dorms, other girls I shared a floor with would stick notes on my door if I shaved my legs and stayed in the shower an extra 10 minutes longer than usual. Simple acts that most would think fall under plain hygiene maintenance were under attack and were called out for “wasting water.” There were signs hung in the bathroom and often on my door that read “If it is yellow, let it mellow.”

There were many Phish concerts, the smell of patchouli oil filled classrooms and hallways, students found comfort in Birkenstock shoes and Mexican ponchos and horticulture, agriculture and farming were popular majors.

Worn by many UNHers

I have never considered myself an environmentalist, an activist, a hippie or a crunchie.

I was the total opposite of any of these things in college. I didn’t get it! I put my own hole in the ozone by using at least one can of Aquanet hairspray a day. I shopped at the mall and wore things from Express, Gap and Macys. I listened to 90’s hip-hop music. Peace, love, spirituality were not things I regularly thought about.

The 21-year-old Erin would laugh at the 41-year-old Erin. I just bought into a community supported agriculture (CSA) farm share. It is a unique relationship of mutual support and commitment between a farm and people like me who purchase a share for the growing season before a harvest begins. 

I just received my first crop from the Stoneledge Farm, and it is fresh, local, organic produce -- kale, mustard greens, mizuna, garlic chives and much more.  In addition to all the great greens, veggies, fruits and mushrooms I am getting with my share, my purchase also helps support regional agriculture and a small family farm, and local community. My husband Paul (who is a Phish fan, hackeysack-playing, drum circle-loving, truth-seeker and someone I probably would have never hung around in college) asked me today as I was cooking kale chips, “when did you become such a hippie?”

I don’t know! I guess it took 20 years for my New Hampshire roots and UNH influence to finally sink in. I am still not wearing patchouli oil or listening to Phish, but I do care more about the environment, peace, love and spirituality and if this means I am a 40 year old hippie, then that is OK.

PS: Please don’t buy me a Mexican poncho or Birkenstocks just yet!