No, it’s not really about a farm (let alone “farms”). It’s just me and my house in Los Angeles with an avocado and an orange tree. And we’re in Edendale - somewhere between Silver Lake and Echo Park. The post office and the library down the street are both the Edendale branches. Edendale was famous in the 1920’s as the home of some of the first movie studios in Los Angeles. But very few people refer to the neighborhood these days as Edendale, so that’s one of the reasons why I like using it.
And I’m not sure about the Farms part. I love my avocado tree and the incredible fruit it produces - everyone says my av’s are the best. I’m not so wild about the orange tree. It’s pretty, but I’ve never really liked oranges - too acidic for my taste. But I love the idea of the place being a farm. I’ve always thought that if I marketed my avocados (or anything else, for that matter), I’d call the company Edendale Farms.
I actually own a farm - or a couple of farms, really - in Oklahoma. Near a little town called Apache (between Anadarko and Lawton, if you know southwestern Oklahoma at all). One was my great-grandfather Blair’s. All we really own these days is the mineral rights. The other is my grandparents (the White’s) farm and we still own the whole kit and caboodle there. It’s a long story - for another post another day - but there’s a family who farms it and pays my sister and me some percentage of the wheat crop as rent.
OK, I’m rambling. Back to Edendale Farms. So I guess I’m just romantic enough to have decided to use this name to catalog my thoughts about where I am and what I’m doing as a nearly sixty year-old gay man in Los Angeles in the early 21st Century. I guess I think I’m going to plant some seeds and see if any wisdom comes up among the weeds.
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