Elegy for Eat Local Grey Bruce

In the heart of Grey Bruce, where fields once whispered secrets of the soil,
There stood a beacon, a gathering of hands, a dream woven in the fabric of the earth.
Eat Local Grey Bruce, a name that echoed with hope, has now fallen silent,
A testimony to the changing tides, where once community thrived.

We watched as the seasons danced, as the harvests came and went,
And with each passing year, the fruits of the land were offered with care,
But the world beyond the fields, it hurried on, faster than the wind,
And in that rush, the call of the earth grew faint, a distant memory.

The kitchens that once simmered with the love of local fare
Now stand cold, their warmth replaced by the flicker of screens and the hum of haste.
Mothers who once shared the joy of cooking with their children
Now race against time, feeding lives on the go, missing the slow, tender rhythms of the seasons.

The market that once thrived with the bounty of nearby farms
Now sees its stalls empty, as wallets tighten, and priorities shift.
In the land where once quality mattered,
Now price prevails, and the essence of the food is lost to the demands of convenience.

We mourn the loss of connection, the fading of a simpler time,
Where to eat was to honor the land, the farmer, the cycle of life.
In a world where strawberries appear in winter, devoid of taste or soul,
The true taste of home has been forgotten, buried beneath entitlements and ease.

Eat Local Grey Bruce was more than just a coop; it was a vision of what could be,
A place where community met the land, where food was more than sustenance—it was a story.
It was meaning, it was love for those who we share our meal with, it was connection to community and land. But now that story lies closed, its pages turned by hands no longer willing to read,
As the world moves on, fast and indifferent, to the beat of an endless, unsustainable drum.

Yet, in this quiet ending, there is a lesson, a whisper of what we have lost,
A call to remember that the land still speaks, if only we would listen.
And though Eat Local Grey Bruce has closed its doors,
The seeds it planted remain, waiting for a time when the world might slow, and remember.

Rest, Eat Local Grey Bruce, in the peace of the land you cherished,
Your legacy will not fade, but live on in the hearts of those who knew,
That local food is not just about eating, but about living,
In harmony with the earth, with each other, and with the seasons that cradle us all.

(This elegy is created by AI by evaluating the Eat Local website, and the current societal trend away from local food. In 2015, Thorsten did the business planning for the coop, in 2016 he instigated the coop with the support of an awesome community of farmers, eaters, and funders).