When the family farm is sold, or abandoned, or bulldozed, will it remember the barn before it lies, sticking up like skeletons from slaughtered cows in the pasture? Will it remember the lifetime your grandparents dedicated to the land? Will it remember you?
St. Elmo has played a part of the newest incarnation of a city that has undergone many. Cradled in the dip between Lookout Mountain and Hawkins Ridge, this neighborhood was born from yellow fever and it lives on because of corgis.
The choice to sacrifice health for convenience; to elect globalization instead of localism in the marketplace; to secure a food industry rather than a community of cultivation, has mankind running to the hills—and back to the family farm