a real piece of farmland
By adrienne Martini • photography by dana matthews

Lucky Dog Farm’s name is a bit misleading. As farmer Richard Giles squelches through the farm’s 45+ acres, two dogs, not one, follow behind us. Admittedly, the dogs as well as their owners, are lucky indeed to live on such a lovely patch of Catskill land, even though the summer of 2009 has been a particularly tough one.

This plot of acreage in tiny Hamden, which is between Delhi and Walton, captivated Giles and his wife, Holley White, at the turn of the 21st century when they were still living in Brooklyn and actively looking for a second home. It’s a flat parcel that used to be river bottom, which is unusual for most of the acreage in the mountains. “Generally, in the Catskills the farms are hillside farms that really aren’t great for growing vegetables,” reveals White, who worked for a small publisher in New York City before moving to the farm.

A steady stream of Subarus and pickup trucks drive down State Highway 10, which passes in front of the farm’s 1870’s storefront. The historic building started its life as a hardware store and currently offers a hodgepodge of retail options, from fresh produce and sustainable meats to local candy, candles and baked goods. The building also houses a café and vintage clothing shop, which has always been an interest of White’s.

But the idea of Lucky Dog grew out of the land itself. Behind the main building are flat, green fields bordered by the west branch of the Delaware River.

“This is a real piece of farmland,” Giles says. “It was a farm that we thought we could shape into a vegetable farm. We wanted something we could afford to buy and that was capable of growing a real highintensity crop so that it would be possible to make a living at it.”

One of the hazards of living so close to the river is that you sometimes live in the river, as the couple discovered in 2006, when a flood completely wiped out the farm. “We’re still recovering,” White says.

Despite that setback, what started as a simple vegetable farm in 2000 has expanded into a 45-acre NOFA-NY (Northeast Organic Farming Association) certified-organic veggie empire. There’s enough growing to stock a CSA and to sell wholesale to Angello’s Distributing, who moves much of the farm’s produce into Whole Foods Markets and several Brooklyn restaurants like Applewood and Franny’s. More of their agricultural bounty is sold at the Pakatakan, Cooperstown and Callicoon Farmers’ Markets.

Giles’s interest in farming is largely hereditary. He grew up in the richly fertile Mississippi Delta. His father was involved in agriculture and helped develop some of the very inorganic chemicals that many farmers tend to rely on to secure high yields and hearty crops. Giles himself used his father’s products on Southern fields before moving to the Northeast. Over time, while working for a high-end photo processor and getting his fair share of exposure to noxious photo chemicals, his opinion of chemically assisted farming changed. “I just didn’t think it was the right way to go. I very much wanted to do it a different way,” he asserts in a soft voice.

“My experience here is very encouraging. We can grow so much food and feed so many people using organic methods,” Giles proudly states. “We don’t have to poison the world to feed the world…. I think that is often the chant of people who are invested in that way of [industrial] farming, whose mantra is we have to do this otherwise we can’t feed the world. But I think looking back at some older methods, we’ve found that we can, with more intensive use of farmland and our labor, we can grow food to feed the world.”

Giles’s philosophy applies to even the smallest details of growing his crops. For example, tender young seedlings are thriving in the greenhouse despite the flood of rain and lack of light that the region endured through most of June and July. Rather than start each plant in large plastic trays or peat pots, Giles invested in a machine that compresses a soil mix into durable seed-starting blocks. There is no waste when it comes time to chuck the seedlings into the ground. Bread trays are repurposed as flats for these soil cubes

By only using organic methods, “we’ve given ourselves a lot of handicaps,” Giles says. But, he goes on to explain, the best way around the handicaps is to ensure your crew is efficient, educated and experienced. “We don’t make money by using inexperienced people,” he adds.

Despite this year’s significantly wet weather, the tomato and potato blights that have hit the farm hard and the ongoing economic downturn, the couple remains optimistic about the farm’s future. Not only will there be a bumper crop of leafy greens like Swiss chard and lettuces, the increased public attention on sustainable foods will help keep the farm a going concern.

“The last couple of years have been more and more successful. All the heightened interest in local food and organic food has contributed to that. I continue to be amazed even with the recession, the store is doing better than last year,” White says.

What has evolved at Lucky Dog—the name comes from the couple’s devotion to adopting shelter dogs—feels more like a community than a profit-driven business. The sandwiches in the café are named after the regulars who had suggested them. The “Linda,” which is goat cheese with roasted red peppers and capers, takes its name from the woman who supplies the cheese itself.

Most of the products for sale in the retail area are made or grown by locals as well. Wandering up and down the rows is like a primer on what the area has to eat—as well as what those in the area can make, including non-edibles like pottery and knitted socks.

If their luck holds, this hub will still be there when White and Giles’s two children are old enough to work this land. The couple started that part of their life together at the same time they broke ground in the field. Recently, their eight-year-old daughter mentioned that she’d like to be a farmer, too.

Giles’s long-term goal is to see both his family as well as his crew own their own farm operations. “In the short term,” he says, “I’d love to be able to just farm and survive. It’s year to year. We’re on the edge. But that’s farming.”