Community Supported Agriculture and Surprising Benefits

Just another day!

When I asked Santa for a share of in a Community Supported Agriculture farm that offered single person shares, I had no idea what I would experience.  I probably have moderate cooking skills: I like to cook but cooking for one is a challenge.  Many, if not most recipes are for 4-6 servings.  Grocery stores even present a challenge: many items come in such large quantities that it is easy to see why obesity is on the rise, simply purchasing items for a single household and not having to pay a premium is a joke.  I became excited just because of the lack of waste.  Finally, I could get fresh produce for one person for a week.

There have been a few disasters (the notable sweet potato salad – but that due to my inability to reconstruct what I ate in New Orleans.  I’ll try again in the fall!) and a few no way in the world I’m eating that (some scary looking green things) moments.  The benefits? I’ve dropped weight without intentionally trying (thanks to ankle surgery limiting what I can do for the time being).   My migraines have virtually disappeared.  I don’t crave junk. I simply don’t want it anymore.  I kid with my friends that I am going to prove that eating healthy will kill somebody.  I still have my ice cream moments but pineapple tends to be the first thing I want to reach for – or strawberries.  I might die in the winter of lack of local fresh fruit.

Midway through June, it has been a cool(ish) New England spring.  Our pollen counts have been insane.  My allergies, normally a bane of my existence, have been nothing but a passing thought from time to time.  I have had my windows open – and dusted the pollen OFF the silver laptop!  I am not totally reformed: I drink diet coke and even my doctor agrees with me that I’m allowed that one vice. 

I am not preaching the “shop the perimeter of the aisle grocery store” mantra or use Weight Watcher points only.  For me, this was an accidental tourist meets how to be healthy.  Maybe that is the key.  I have never been the person who can be told what to do: I have to find my way in the dark and the misadventures, culinary and all, for something to stick.  But, if you see me on a treadmill? Please intervene.  God knows I’ll probably break a bone if I hang out one of those too long!

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