That Saturday found us on the outer edge of Hurricane Norbert and we felt the hard winds of its stroll. Returning home from visiting the Santa Fe Ski Basin, we were greeted by a shredded garden tent and plants knocked flat by 60 mph winds. I spent the evening stubbornly repairing the tent and fruit-laden plants. I wasn’t about to let some silly wind destroy our gardening season.

For our tomato and pepper plants, however, this was just the first of a one-two combination that brought the season to an abrupt close, while leaving them on the canvas for good.

A day and a half later, the tomatoes and peppers lay KO’d in their beds. We never saw the second punch coming, but we would have if we’d been playing closer attention to the weather. In the early morning hours of Oct. 13 we had our first frost. While we slept and dreamed of better economic times, our plants’ circulation froze and they died a quiet death.

Carnage greeted us in the morning. We had never seen the damage that a sudden frost can do. We were stunned by the boiled leaves and smell of rotting vegetation that undid months of work in a matter of hours. But these are the lessons that greenhorns growers need to learn. The remains of our tomato and pepper plants—with fruit still attached—are hanging in our garage, where I thank them for their efforts every time I visit. They can’t hear me anymore.

During a natural growing season, the terms “early” and “late” have different meanings depending where you are in the calendar. At the cooling end, you enjoy “late” because it usually means a delayed first frost and a continued season. “One more week” seems to be the universal plea for gardeners and farmers alike. I truly thought we had at least “one more week," but much like hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock you are only postponing the inevitable.

The inevitable happened again with the frost a couple of days later. Our new reality is to tackle the off-season project list that just got longer. For our opener, we chose the more mind-stimulating (we thought) chore of organic certification study.

Doing this reminded me of my days in risk management when I was in pharmaceutical product advertising. The biopharma industry was my introduction to the “codification of the general and permanent rules published in the Federal Register by the executive departments and agencies of the Federal Government.” This “codification” comes in a neat bureaucratic verbiage package called the Code of Federal Regulations. For those unfamiliar with the CFR, they are the standard operating procedures for government involvement in everything from agriculture to the Panama Canal. If you use the ATM to withdraw money for gas and a sandwich, you can bet the CFR is standing right next to you.

And for the most part I think these codes are necessary to ensure that society runs smoothly, because their premise is the same as it is for government: The people are best served with the enforcement of logical codes.

But these protections fall short when faced with those unscrupulous types who exploit loopholes to cheat the system. Only when they’re caught and punished can legislation catch-up and close the “codification” shortfalls. Sir Albert Howard would be sad to learn that the same kind of abuse occurs in the organic production business.

A Crop Organic Vodka advertisement that I found in the Oct. 12, 2008 food issue of The New York Times Magazine is an example of misleading people about organic products. This was the first time that I’d heard of Crop vodka. Maybe it’s the best vodka ever produced. But using the USDA organic certification to tout its quality is misleading.

Organic certification guarantees only the process, not the final product. So when Crop claims that the organic corn gives the vodka its taste, it misrepresents the certification program.

Claims like these give rise to watchdog groups such as The Cornucopia Institute to supplement often inadequate government oversight. Cornucopia provides an organic dairy report card regarding many of the products that we see in our local stores.

Despite the loopholes and failings of the National Organic Program (NOP), it would be a mistake to ignore the USDA organic label while shopping. Whatever else it does, the certification provides a general assurance of good practices. 

The organic program does not seek to balance recent scientific innovations; rather it takes us back to the days before synthetic compounds replaced human interaction. Even if the organic certification doesn’t necessarily equate to sustainability, it certainly beats the destruction of conventional practices.

It also provides an excellent business guide and reminder of good practices. Think of the program as a codified conscience that accompanies the producer at every step in the growing process.

In fact, its rules may best serve the consumer when the producer is facing difficult cultivation periods. Anyone can follow the organic model when growing conditions are positive. Even greenhorns can be successful if they have great soil, perfect water and no pests. It is when the dynamics are not in your favor that the organic model is tested. This is where the NOP comes into play.

We were tested early in the growing season and failed. After losing the squash seedlings because of bad timing and an inability to start new seedlings, our frustration prompted us to grow seeds in soil with synthetic fertilizer. We also have a container of marigolds that sit in the same soil. 

These are knee-jerk reactions, since corrected, reflecting my lack of skill and understanding in the moment. Had I been part of the organic program this year, that type of soil would never have been used. We are comforted—after reading through the certification sections of the CFR—that these amateur mistakes won’t set us back on the certification timeline. The program certifies growing areas; our garden for this year will not be our commercial production areas in the future. Thank goodness for the invasive garden tent. In the garden tent we used a mix of certified organic compost with our own soil (so we aren't totally evil). 

With the decision to proceed for certification, we began reading CFR Title 7 (Agriculture), part 205 (NOP). We fell asleep. We drank some strong coffee and then started again. Our mistake corrected, we are in now compliance with the 36-month moratorium on substances prohibited for use on organic production areas. That gives us 14 months remaining towards the organic certification process. We believe the certification timing will work out well and we should be ready by the time we are inspected by a certifying agent.

Unfortunately, we are required to construct a buffer zone to separate our organic practice with the practices of our neighbors. It isn’t that they are regularly synthesizing, but we need to protect our certification in case one of them decides to lower his standards during a difficult season. 

To understand the nature of the required buffer zone, I visited our state certifier at the New Mexico Organic Commodity Commission (NMOCC). After a brief discussion regarding what “sufficient” means, I walked out of the office with some helpful resources, including an organic production overview from ATTRA, but didn’t get a complete answer.

The overview says that “most agencies require a minimum 25-foot buffer along….” If we built a 25-foot buffer zone we would lose approximately 41 percent of our production area. That type of zone is impractical for our operations.

So we are devising an organic production plan to include our definition of a buffer zone—the plan includes non-production trees surrounding the growing areas—and hope that it will be enough to satisfy the certifying agent. Relying on a single person's interpretation of compliance demonstrates the fragility of the NOP.

We are out of compliance in another part of the process, too: We need a business name -- a name for our farm. (Any suggestions are greatly appreciated.)

Organic certification or not, we will follow good farming practices on our land. Beyond the marketing benefits of official organic approval, our goal is to leave the soil better than we found it. If we take care of our land it will take care of us, and we will prosper. Isn’t that what we are all supposed to do for future generations?

Photo by Flickr user tiarescott