As I stood looking at the lone egg on the counter, I could not believe my eyes.

“Is this what I think it is?” I asked, as Dan walked back into the kitchen.

“Yes, and there are more,” he replied.

When he returned with the remainder of the clutch, I began counting as I pulled them from the plastic grocery bag.  There were eight in total, all speckled with flecks of mud from the floor of the duck coop.

I carefully washed each in the sink and placed them on a towel to dry next to a few freshly picked tomatoes and peppers.  One thought came to mind as I stood looking at the bounty before me, “we’re legit.”

The “farm” suddenly felt more like a farm, and although we wouldn’t be starting our own farmer’s market alongside Brooksville Road or going off-the-grid any time soon, we were at least making steps, albeit baby steps, in the direction of becoming producers rather than only consumers.

It had been a great year for tomatoes with our first crop of Cherokee purples and Creoles keeping us in BLTs throughout the summer.  They were so good that I planted a second round of “garden center surprise” tomatoes (as in the tag is gone and we’re not sure what kind they are) and peppers that are still producing in mid-November.

Now, thanks to Hester Prynne the Indian Runner duck’s eggs, we can feast on unidentified tomato and pepper quiche anytime that the mood strikes us.  Hester, who was originally named either Ron or Harry, got her new name when the ducks had aged enough for their novice duck owners to sex them.

As the lone female in the brace of four ducks, we were more than a little worried about her.  Thus far, everything seems to have turned out fine, although, G says that she has “seen things.”

I’ve “seen things” myself this week—eggs—and I’ve taken great pride in that fact.  I think this pride in production comes from what I’ve been reading lately.  Much of my reading this year has been concerned with the environment, sustainability and our food economy.

A couple of books on these topics that come to mind are “A Bold Return to Giving a Damn: One Farm, Six Generations, and the Future of Food” by Will Harris, and “Let My People Go Surfing: The Education of a Reluctant Businessman” by Yvon Chouinard.

Both books are eye-opening when it comes to the state of our food supply and how it is grown, processed and delivered to market, as well as the state of our consumer culture and throw-away economies.

Do you ever give any thought to where your food comes from or how it was grown or raised?  Is it genetically modified?  Were pesticides used?  Were the animals treated ethically?  Were they raised on pasture or in a feed lot?

I’ve always believed in the concept of buying locally and I believe it is now more important than ever to do just that.  In “The World-Ending Fire,” author Wendell Berry espouses the benefits of the local food economy and how to make a difference locally.

I refer to Berry’s tenets often.  Here are a few: participate in food production to the extent you can, prepare your own food, learn the origin of the food you buy, buy the food closest to your home and deal directly with local farmers.

Berry also encourages us to learn as much as we can about what is involved in industrial food preparation and production, learn what is involved in the best farming and gardening, and learn as much as we can of the life histories of the food species you consume.

Doing these things can make an immediate impact on the local economy and asking these questions will certainly change the way that you buy your groceries.  However, what about everything else that we buy?  Do we really need another pair of shoes or another gadget to make our lives easier?

When your television, the one that is no longer built to be repaired, stops working, where does it end up?  Could you wear that puffy jacket or those hiking boots for a few more years rather than throwing them away and buying more if you or the company that made them repaired or resoled them?

Reading Chouinard’s book has me thinking differently about all my “stuff.”  Do I really need more or am I just programmed to believe that I do?

It is eye-opening to me that the founder of a company, Patagonia, that makes and sells outdoor gear and apparel encourages his customers to repair and wear rather than toss and buy.

I’ve always been a big believer in buying the best, especially if that best is made to last.  I would rather save longer to be able to afford a tent, backpack, or pair of boots that will be with me a lifetime rather than buying the cheaper alternative product and having it end up in a landfill.

Berry says that we’re either exploiters or nurturers.  If I’m honest, I must admit that I’m both.  A few eggs, tomatoes, peppers and a patched up puffy jacket don’t move me from one camp to the other, but they do, at least, move me in the right direction.

Until next time, here’s to making the small changes that make a big difference, and here’s to seeing you out there in our great outdoors.