A View From Here: Resettling Big Stone County Minnesota

First class mail is alive and kicking in Big Stone County, MN. Just try falling off the roof of one of the farm buildings and watch your mailbox get packed with well wishes. Just to clarify, it wasn't me that did the falling but my much loved and needed farmer-husband, Mike.

Friday, April 13th Mike tumbled off the new chicken shed and onto concrete- resulting in broken ribs and cutting open his elbow to the bone. As the story goes, he wouldn't have been hurt as badly if he hadn't tried to avoid falling on good dog Sunny. After driving himself to the clinic/hospital he began to deteriorated - slowly at first and then accelerating until he landed in the hospital the following week.

There's a reason that Farming is among the world's MOST DANGEROUS job. Farming ranks #4 (between SWAT officer and Structured Metal Workers) in this book that young Earnest brought home from the elementary school library.

All of this falling off roofs makes one realize how quickly life can change. And it reminds me to be grateful for all those we hold dear--from moment to moment.

It is also a lesson in the shortcomings of rugged individualism and the annoying stoicism of men of Scandinavian descent (and I bet we could add Germanic descent to that as well). Nearly a week after the accident, but before Mike was hospitalized we had the biggest fight in our 17 year marriage- toe to toe- in each others' faces. He was determined that he (wounded and sick) and I (inexperienced and annoyed) would put the bale fork on the John Deere 4440 and feed the cattle before we went into the clinic. I was equally determined that we should "just say YES!" to one of the dozen plus people who had offered to help us feed the cattle.

"You D#$m stubborn Norwegian! You can't be doing this in your shape!" "We have to do this now! And you need to learn to do this- NOW!" "Why in the middle of a crisis?" A number of other choice words about each others' priorities, capabilities and character ensued.

And in the way of these things, we were both absolutely right. Mike was right in that we got the bale fork on and I moved three 2,000 pound bales of hay into the pasture for the cattle and, in all honesty, with a sense of pride in the accomplishment. And I was right- in that he immediately thereafter landed himself in the hospital for 8 days and 3 surgeries. He's damn lucky to have that arm and probably his life. Without current medical interventions, I'd be a farm widow today.

I can joke now, but it's been a hard few weeks. After Mike's first two surgeries, the surgeon came out to the waiting room and escorted me down the hall to a private room. He closed the door behind me and gave me the news- not looking so good, gonna need another surgery in two days. After Mike's third surgery, the surgeon came to talk to me and didn't close the door. I knew then that we had turned the corner. And I was giddy with relief. When Mike was brought to his room after recovery, I said "Great news! No more surgeries! " "Then my arm is closed up?" "No- that's a ways out. You'll have a month of IV antibiotics ahead of you."

I cried with relief. It was the first time I'd cried at all. And Mike cried- tears of loss. Loss for an entire year of farming. Loss of the cattle he was on his way to buy. Loss of the expansion of our grazing lands to the adjoining USFWS prairie. Loss of a whole lot of plans, dreams, and investments of time and energy. April, May and June are cruel months for a farmer to be kept out of farming.

I'll just say this one last thing. My husband is a good, caring, hard working man of very few words. His daily word allotment is 40 words- so he uses them sparingly. A couple nights after he was home and trying to get his beaten up body comfortable in bed, he whispered so quietly I could have missed it, "thank you for taking care of me dear." And I'll say the same thing to many of you out there reading this.

Thank you for taking care of us dears.

When we first moved here 4.5 years ago, we had a shocking and ultimately laughable demonstration of prairie wind power. Three-year-old Jens opened the screen door on our front porch, which was caught by the south wind, and he was violently flung across the porch, down the five stairs, and rolled across the gravel until he nearly rolled under one of the parked cars. After the initial shock of seeing your child fly through the air and land many feet away, unharmed, we've had many good laughs at the image. In the convening years we've had the hinges blown off the door multiple times, tried any number of door catching devices- even some hill billy tree stumps strategically positioned on the porch.

The wind, I found, is relentless- blowing shingles off the roof; making the whole farm clatter and the empty silos sound like frightening pan pipes. The tender garden produce gets sand blasted and my exposed skin gets a cheap micro-dermabrasion.

The wind always wins, ultimately. And if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So we've invested in a wind turbine and some thrilling parafoil kites.

I've been a bit reluctant to talk about our wind turbine as early in the venture one of my neighbors sauntered up to me and said, "say- I hear we have a wealthy farmer in the neighborhood." "Really- who?" "Well, the electrician was over and says he's putting up a wind turbine." wink-wink-nod-nod. A bit ironic since his tractor costs the same as about 4 of our modest wind turbines.

Nonetheless, there's a perception that a wind turbine is a nice luxury. And to be sure, we're grateful to be able to pull together the capital to put this baby up. But that said- 2011 was a good, sensible year to invest in a wind turbine. 1) There was a 30% federal tax credit for farm renewable energy projects as part of the economic stimulus, and 2) there was an allowance to depreciate up to 85% of the cost in year 1. So if you had income to offset, this was a good way to do it. After the stimulus tax credit and the depreciation over the coming years, I am hoping that this turbine pays for itself within 8 years. (knocking on wood). That will depend on our income and, of course, that wind keeps howling like it is tonight.

With 6 months of wind energy production data under our belt, our Bergey 10kw turbine is producing 2.5 times the amount of power that we use on our farm. The excess power is put onto the grid and used by our fellow Agralite Rural Electric Cooperative members. Though I get mixed messages from Agralite as to whether they like having wind power in their mix (reading the monthly newsletter), they have been professional, responsible and easy to work with in getting us grid tied. So - thank you Agralite.

I know that there are simpler ways for Agralite to get power- namely buying it from Great River Energy. And they seem to be very fond of coal- offering trips to coal-country every year for members. But I hope they also appreciate that just as our nation will be better off with domestic energy, that having some home-grown power produced right here in the Agralite service area is good for all our members and creates economic development for our region. So - let's mix it up a little.

At first we tried to site the turbine on the side of the farm where we couldn't see it. In the end- it sits right out our front door, down next to the barn. And frankly, it is a beauty to behold- I'm glad I can see it out the front door and perfectly in line with my office window. I love the way the turbine looks on this farm. Now in the morning I check the thermometer and then look out at the turbine to see the wind speed and direction.

And so, we made this maddening wind part of our long term farm plan. And even more than that- I discovered parafoil kites. Oh joy of joys! Forget those plastic $2.99 kites-- they are a bane to kiting. These parafoil kites were made to love the wind and the sky and can't be kept down. Over the past few months with a few bucks invested in some of these nylon parafoils I have fallen in love, again, with this prairie.

The kids and I sit on top of the giant hay bales and our kites voluntarily lift into the air. Then we just lean back in the hay and meditate on four or five brilliant colored kites in a sky so blue that your heart just aches. Sometimes we go out into the prairie preserve and fly our kites out there as well. One day Alma and I just laid in the tall grass- one of the nice January days when we didn't even need our coats (the first of such days in my lifetime).

One day last fall I was out alone with a couple kites on the edge of the prairie- but still in our field. An unknown hunter walked to the edge of the prairie and watched me flying those kites and I was jumping with excitement when a kite might dive into the tall slough grass and with a pull (from 200 ft away!!) of the kite string the kite would BOUND back up into the air. Truly amazing for me. The hunter looked at me and held his gun over his head with two hands-- I took it as some kind of salute to giddy use of this good day and good wind.

And so I've found not only peace with the windy prairie, but some profit, and even more importantly a new soul filling joy.

Don W, active community member, and Holly K, employee at Bonnie's Hometown Grocery in Clinton, MN

A person could argue with being labeled a "food desert" since there are three grocery stores that serve this particular area-- Bonnie's Home Town Grocery in Clinton, Beardsley Country Market, and Graceville Country Market. I began my quest to find out how food comes to a rural food desert by asking Bonnie, owner of Bonnie's Hometown Grocery, where her groceries come from--the answer: Mason Brothers Wholesale Grocers of Wadena, Minnesota.

Mason Brothers delivery to Bonnie's Hometown Grocery, Clinton, MN February 24

That led to a recent trip to Wadena, MN (population 4,000) where Mason Brothers Wholesale Grocery is headquartered to get a first hand view of the business behind our rural food distribution system. This family owned business has been supplying food to rural communities since 1920. I met with Muryln Kreklau, Mason Brothers Sales Manager, who gave me a tour and an education about bringing food to rural communities. Muryln has been with Mason Bros. for 39 years. He started working there as a teenager instead of going into his families dairy operation. Murlyn moved up the ranks to his current position and along the way developed a great deal of knowledge about the economics and viability of small town stores.

Bonnie's Hometown Grocery, Clinton, MN

Mason Brothers: Serving Small Place
Mason Brothers is a full service grocery wholesaler that delivers to approximately 260 grocery stores throughout rural Minnesota, eastern North and South Dakota, Wisconsin and Michigan. Mason Bros. is very unique in that the majority of stores they service have populations of less than 1,000. Anecdotally, they have observed that it is economically feasible for nearly any wholesale grocer to supply towns with population of 3,200 and above. SuperValu, a national chain with a strong regional presence, commonly provides wholesale groceries to towns with populations of 1,800 and greater and occasionally to communities with populations as low as 1,200.

Because of their routes to the smallest of small towns, Murlyn and the drivers have a front row seat and an important back door function in keeping food on the shelves of rural towns. After a couple hours touring the Mason Bros. facilities, I realized what an asset they are to our rural food system--getting meat, fresh bakery products, dairy, and fresh produce to some of the smallest and more isolated stores out here in our so-called "food desert."

Dave Bernstetter, new driver for Mason Brothers, unloading food for Bonnie's Hometown Grocery of Clinton, MN

Actually delivering the groceries to Bonnie's Hometown Grocery is no small feat. Bonnie's has no loading dock and it took a great deal of skill to maneuver that large semi-truck through the alley to the back door of the store. Bob Warner and Dave Bernstetter, 14 years and 1 week with the company, respectively, are the Mason Brothers drivers who delivered to Bonnie's Hometown Grocery this week. They start their day around 4:30am at Mason Brother headquarters in Wadena, Minnesota. By 6pm tonight they will have delivered groceries to 8 towns in Minnesota and South Dakota, unloading by hand a semi full of pallets of food. There's a great deal of physical labor involved in delivering and stocking the shelves with food. The people of Clinton, Graceville, Ashby, Evansville and Wilmot South Dakota- to name a few- will have fresh produce, meat, frozen and canned fruits and veggies, and baked goods thanks to these gentlemen.

Dave Warner, Bonnie, and Holly K in the back of Bonnie's Homegrown Grocery.

In addition to Dave and Bob, there are around 260 people employed by Mason Brothers, making them the largest employer in Wadena, Minnesota. In walking through the front offices and touring the warehouse, the staff seemed relaxed and happy. The "campus" includes a gym and a pool that is available to all of the employees and their families. The warehouse facilities are state of the art, organized, and clean. They provide a USDA inspected meat cutting facility for those small town groceries that don't have their own meat cutting equipment. Their bakery, Abby's, prepares custom ordered breads, cakes, cookies, buns and rolls that are baked overnight and on the shelf in grocery stores the same day.

Abby's Bakery products same day delivery to Clinton, Minnesota

Community Matters! Challenges for Small Town Grocery Stores
"Unless something is done, small town groceries are going away" say the Mason Brothers Sales Manager after a tour of their facilities. "It's a problem there's not an answer to-yet." "Somehow, community is a part of the solution. Like investing in a community center and gathering place."

Murlyn gets many calls from people with questions about starting small town grocery stores. As a result, he's developed his own set of spreadsheets to do projections that help people determine the feasibility (profit and loss) of these small town stores. In the past few years high energy costs hurt small, rural groceries and as a result a number of small town grocery stores were shuttered and closed down. In fact, Mason Brothers has seen the turnover of around 60 of their 260 stores since 2007 alone. Murlyn is eager to discuss factors that contribute to the health and sustainability of rural groceries.

One of the key factors in having a small town grocery is to have a building that the grocery can afford. Very low building/rent costs are important to making the balance sheets balance. It's really difficult to buy an existing old store, make the payments for that business, and generate profits. The grocery business runs on thin margins of between 1-3%, as does Mason Brothers. Murlyn has seen some very inspiring examples of how small towns overcome the barriers associated with housing their rural grocery. For example, in Hope, North Dakota (population 258) the roof of Mick's Grocery was caving in. Mick had decided that it didn't pay to repair it and so was planning to close his store. The community realized they needed to rally around their town's grocery and so the city built a community center that includes a restaurant and space for the family owned grocery store. This is a great example of a public-private partnership that works to the benefit of a rural community and perhaps a needed model to overcoming rural food deserts.

In response to my questions about cooperative and community own grocery stores, Murlyn was quick to point out that in his 30 year experience the "mom and pop" owned stores fare better and stay open longer than other ownership forms. Mason Brothers supplies groceries to any store, regardless of ownership structure and have seen some community owned stores that work, but sadly more do not. It's hard to run a grocery store by committee and the amount of time and energy (to quote the "long, hard hours") that a family owned stores invests goes beyond that of most volunteers and employees.

Larry Anderson, president of the Big Stone County Farmers' Union, in front of the food order for the Big Stone County Emergency Food Shelf.

We've had some excitement around the farm in the past few weeks. Mike went to the cattle auction in Benson, Minnesota knowing there'd be some great Angus stock-- bred for grassfed production-- on the block. The Lowline Angus heifers were coming from Prairie Horizons Farm- near Starbuck, and having toured their operation, we were excited to be building a herd based on Luverne Forbord's expertise, genetic selection, and care.

Bad part was, Rusty didn't care for having anything new in the pasture-- including the calves. Rusty could count (note I'm using the past tense here) and so 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9 cows did not equate when they started calving and we now had 10-11-12-13. So he harassed the calves nearly from the moment they were born. We'd tie Rusty up until he got over it. But he was never fond of the new additions.

So the day after we got the new Angus calves and everyone was playing nice in the pasture, we let Rusty out to meet the new additions. I'm putting it mildly to say that all hell broke lose. Rusty saw 5 intruders in the pasture and went into kill mode-- chasing, biting, kicking, braying wildly. He mercilessly chased our new Angus calves until in utter self preservation they burst through the fence and headed for the hills.

Now we had our new, and relatively expensive, beautiful Lowline Angus cattle fanning out across the wild prairie landscape-- some went south, the others went northeast. Again, the whole family was out in the fields and spreading out across 100's of acres to try to find the cattle. A couple of them went into the slough grass behind our house-- which is about 6-8 feet high. It was impossible to even hear or see them. We tromped through, but only flushed out a big buck. Some of the cattle had crossed out of our section, so we drove around trying to spot them. Keep in mind-- we've had no snow this winter so there was no tracking we could do. Also, black calves do not stand out on expanses of black soil. The sun set with our cattle out in the wild.

Believe me there was a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth over losing our brand new baby calves. Not the least of which was-- "I hope Luverne doesn't find out what we've done with his lovely little calves!!" All sorts of dangers lurk outside the pasture-- many coyotes, timber wolves sighted close to our farm, and I've seen a cougar. Also, with no snow there is no water for the cattle-- they can't go long without water.

So we called the Sheriff to let him know we had a few 350 pound cattle roaming the back roads (quite the road hazard), sheepishly called all our neighbors, and then reluctantly called it into the local radio station. You know, the local AM station that broadcasts all the local birthdays, deaths, and fool farmers who lost their cattle.

Two days later, two cattle were standing about 1/4 mile outside our dining room window-- thirsty, tired, and happy to be led home. That left three missing.

Our neighbors seemed rather endeared to us for losing our cattle. I guess our public radio humiliation made them remember all the mess ups they'd been in. A surprising number of farmers called with their own tales of losing cattle and chasing them through tall corn for weeks on end.

Mike (with a little help from me) spent the next 8 days walking through all the tall slough grass within a couple miles of our farm-- believe me that's a lot of slough grass (remember- we live in a USGS map section officially named "The Dismal Swamp"). On day 10, we got a call that our cattle were in a field 3 miles east of us. With the help of neighbor Russ, his wife and kids, we got our cattle into their fenced farmstead and brought them back home. These three were big and healthy-- having had their fill of all the grass and leftover corn between our farm and Russ'.

If only that were the end of the story. Rusy took up permanent residence in the barn- away from the cattle. Even so, a couple days later, the Sheriff called us and said there were cattle on the blacktop road to the west. Some other poor schmuck had his cattle get out. Mike, now owing the neighbors a helping hand in return, got in our minivan and headed out to help. Yup, you guessed it. They were our cattle again.

With the help of the Kellen boys-- the kind of young men you want to populate an agricultural county- these kids handle animals, vehicles, tractors, and more-- we corralled the 5 Angus and got them back home.

Rusty was a good mule and now he's in a better place. We sold him for $.50 to a nice grandfather in South Dakota who has grandkids, but no livestock.

TWO

What I don't miss is the constant vigilance of raising a kid in an urban area where you can't just put them on their bikes-- even on sidewalks in front of the house- because of the driveways and constant traffic.

THREE

I've been buying my flour in 50# sacks from Swany White since about 1997. Even though Mike gave me my very own County Living flour grinder, I still loved my to mix Swany White with my hand ground whole wheat.

The Freeport, MN Swany White flour mill will not be replaced. They were still using the mill equipment from 1913-- and replacement doesn't make economic sense. So much loss-- a thriving small town business, a place farmers could bring their local and organic wheat, a great product that was beloved by those who knew and used it. Makes you kinda ache, doesn't it.

We're losing a lot in these couple of generations-- yours, mine, my children's. Once the pieces of our once thriving rural infrastructure are gone, they can't be replaced with the same quality as before. Just a few days ago, we lost the 2nd to last two story brick building on Main Street Clinton. It looks to me that the gaping holes that remain are filled with pole buildings. To me, those buildings don't have the permanence or skill embedded in them the way those lovely brick building do-- or as the case may be-- did.

Minnesota's 2012 Organic Farming Conference came on the heels of losing Swany White and was hosted less than 30 miles away in St. Cloud. There were a solid 450 solid people at this year's conference. Lots of old timers and new, young farmers. I walked away from that conference saying "Thank God" we have farmer like these who are stewarding the land and holding onto skills that would otherwise be lost in a couple generations. Cattlemen, vegetable breeders, small grain growers are just a few of the folks at whose feet we sat in the last two days.

One thing I learned and the crux of what I bring back to my farm, is that these organic farmers and keepers of animals and seeds (the 'seedies') are practicing "slow farming." Meaning they invest their time and give their intimate attention to their farm's plants (and animals and soil). The lessons I took away from vegetable breeding and seed saving workshop,(by humble, approachable, powerhouse Theresa Podoll) are to know what you want from your crops (taste, storage, pest tolerance) and to be mindful of every plant-- how it looks and feels the fruit; to both study and eat your squash (how long did it last in the pantry, how much flesh, how does it taste?), and; save the seeds from just the very very best.

Men and women out across the landscape (like the Podolls in rural North Dakota and ES and his soybeans) are stealthily saving the best seed from crops, developing even better varieties for the times, and ensuring a very small part of the biodiversity from the past -- for the future. These people and their seeds are the saving remnant. And frankly, in a global near-monopoly of seed companies, they are preserving freedom and independence along with those seeds. Thank you.

Today, Sunday January 15, 2012, we have the most complex food system in the history of humankind. You think it's easy getting your Hot Pockets and Mountain Dew to the Cenex Station in Grygla, Minnesota? It probably took 10,000 people to prepare that meal -- from making the fertilizer to grow the crops, extracting and refining the oil to make the plastic bottle, setting up the distribution system and delivering it so that we can eat it in the car on our way to our next busy task. All that for $2.59 and and a touch of diabetes.

Did I digress? No-- we've have lost a lot of our communities' real food infrastructure like creameries, butcher shops, and even our skills of how to grow food and cook it. And right now, we are under threat of losing even our rural groceries in a mass die-off across the countryside.

This week marks four years since we purchased the farm. Four years of dreaming, planning, working, worrying, planting, harvesting. Four years of awe, frustration, simple successes, a few failures. Four years of family, playing, joy, longing, and missing.

For me, it's been four years of discovering a new world. The prairie and all its subtle beauty and humble and not so humble majesty. Four years of balancing my long distance work life and my little, little children growing bigger every day. Of the contrast between frontier and urban core.

I've learned the remarkable journey of the sun from solstice to solstice. Just how crazy far towards the north the sun rises in the summer and to the south in the winter. Really people- at the 45th parallel, the range of the movement of the sun as it touches the horizon is dramatic. I've gained some intuitive sense of the cycles of the moon. I can tell from glancing at the moon whether it's waxing or waning.

It still feels new to me. And maybe that is one of the secrets (or practices) of being mindful-- keeping that feeling of everyday awe. There is a freshness in exploring the large and the small-- the movements of the sun and the seeds on the prairie grass. Meeting people who are both new to me and a stable part of a community that I will meet again and again. Thinking of new ideas on the small scale of my community life vs the larger scale of my work-a-day world. And opportunities to put my shoulder to the wheel in a way that feels like I'm making a difference on the piece of soil I've been blessed to steward.

It passes fast though, doesn't it? Here's the soundtrack for this entry-- 100 Years by Five for Fighting.

I lost a friend and a colleague this week. She lived big and was taken too soon. Linda moved through the world with an easy humor, spunk, and a perspective that I hope and intend to learn from. She had a joie de vivre like few people I've known. She was elegance and grace, with a wickedly wry and impertinent humor.

At the funeral, the pastor said that the light was extinguished only because the dawn had arrived. We will meet again one day, Linda.

In the meantime, none of us know how many sunrises and sunsets we each have. I do know that my children are getting bigger everyday and that those giddy moments of blissful child's play are numbered. I know that these are the days and moments that nostalgia are made from.

The name 'Eidskog' comes from a municipality in Norway and no doubt was named such by a homesick immigrant(s) who invested time and gave of their meager resources to build this beautiful, humble monument to community.

The word 'Eidskog' means a portage through the woods. And I'm guessing that it's unintentionally appropriate as it sits kitty corner from a slough and the 2.5 mile from our farm to the church means traveling on a road that takes 3 serious curves around sloughs and wetlands. That's unusual for a State platted with arrow straight township roads.

When we pulled out of our driveway and headed due south to Eidskog last Sunday night, the four of us were all startled to see and chattering about all the red tail lights on the road to the church. I've driven home in the dark 100's of times and have almost never seen headlights or taillights from that direction. On the rare occasion we do see a car and it's cause for conversation about who might be out this way and why. Nothing nefarious, but the curiosity of a rare event. But I digress.

The church was packed with more than 200 people. Bear in mind that our township and the adjoining township--a total of 72 square miles-- have a combined population of around 160 people.

The Hymn Sing began with Carl, the congregation's reigning patriarch who has been instrumental in hosting the event for the past 50 years, and his wife Jan singing a traditional hymn in a lovely duet. Carl is having trouble moving about these days and so it was touching to see him lead us off in 2011. You know, lots of people care for him and, like me, were moved to hear him and Jan sing. Let us pause to remember and be grateful for all the good things that our elders have put in place--like the Hymn Sing-- that we enjoy today.

From there on out, we enjoyed a medley of great music from all 200+ of us in the pews and musicians of all kinds from the area giving performances. The performers ranged in age from 15 to 90 years old. All the denominations were represented--and nondenominational folks too.

I smiled to myself as I stereotyped the different groups. The Baptists, of course, sang a couple of modern tunes with a guitar and tamberine. They were dressed better than anyone else in the place and they even, gasp, swayed to the music. (my husband's Baptist upbringing frowned on swaying or toe tapping as being too close to dancing) The songs were ones I'd never heard before, I'm sure they're from a big name current Christian band, but they stick in mind even 6 days later.

The Catholics--now there was a crisp, disciplined group of singers. They all showed up and sang a song that included some Latin, if I remember correctly. The 7th Day Adventists played a great brass ensemble and another with saxophone, guitar and piano. The Lutheran groups were just fine, thank you.

I'd been to church that same morning and the Advent scripture, sermon, and hymns struck me as repeating the word "peace" a lot. It made me wonder where else in the world people had been talked to and sung so much about peace that morning.

That Peace is central to the season was driven home to me again that night. As out on the pitch dark prairie--lit up only by the church and the stars--the 200+ singers at Eidskog Lutheran church in rural Otrey Township, Big Stone County, Minnesota lifted their hearts and voices to sing in spontaneous three part harmony "Go now in Peace. Never be Afraid... Go Now in Peace, in faith, and in love." And then we sang it one more time--as a blessing and Christmas gift that we gave to each other.

I have a rare few minutes at home alone. The Pandora soundtrack playing in the background is the Verve's Rather Be Here. "I'd rather be here than be anywhere. Is there anywhere better than here?..."

On a day like today it is easy to know Gratitude. Invite her into your car, house, life, and conversations. If one is convinced that we are living in the very best of times today but tomorrow we face challenges of limited resources (financial, energy, soil, you name it) then these perfect days and minutes are all the more savored and precious because one cannot take for granted that there will be more days like today or more moments like this very moment. Regardless of the where the world goes, we can all learn from Steve Jobs that every moment is to be well lived.

I drove home alone (the rest of the family going to the Friday Night Lights in the neighboring town) with the sun setting over the prairie. Another dramatic sunset due to the dust and soil kicked up from the 2 months without rain and the harvest in full gear. Geese are flying south again now that the insanely violent winds calmed down. There were deer along the roadside. I was returning from a family celebratory dinner at The Cabin Café in Clinton, MN. The Cabin, by the way, had locally grown fruit and vegetables and the food all made by scratch by Doreen. Doreen is a superb cook and invests in healthy food.

Tonight Mike charged me with getting the chickens safely into their hut for the night. It's already near dark and the chickens are still out. Just what Mike was afraid would happen and did. Yes- I forgot to put in the chickens (about 125 broilers). So I'll have to run outside with a flashlight and get the chickens into their hut before it's pitch dark. Hopefully get the turkey in too.

But I just can't pull myself away from The Verve singing Rather Be. Too perfect a soundtrack for this day.

I'm back--the chickens and turkey are safe in their hut. And I'm reminded of a few things:
1) That it is always good to go outside on a moonlit dusk/dark night
2) That having to do chores is a blessing in making you go outside and be
3) That it's damn sensible (and humane) to put the chickens in at night

In just the past 20 minutes I was reminded that we farm amidst the wild, like few commodity sized farmers do. This place where we live and farm has deep molic soils next to complexes of pothole ponds and prairies; all intertwined. I stood outside between the barn and house (which are ridiculously far apart due to building the house on one hill in a swamp and the barn on the other hill in the swamp I imagine) when an animal stirs in the grass to my left. Then the coyotes start to yipe yipe yipe awooooooooooooooo--sounding too close for comfort. The chickens, now safe in their hut, start to stir around. They recognize the sound of a predator. I make for my house. There is lightening flashing all around the horizon to the south and east. And a three-quarter moon above me with wisps of clouds passing over.

We've had more of our broilers chicks and chickens lost this year than any time in the past. Massacres of dozens of baby chicks and finding the remains of the mature chickens nearly ready for butcher out in the fields. We keep our chickens in pens at night and even tied the dog to the pens for a couple weeks as the predation was so bad. But we farm amidst nature--sloughs and prairies and wetlands. We are 'blessed' with fox, skunk, weasels, mink, raccoons, owls, coyotes, and hawks. And they all love to eat our happy, free-range pasture raised chickens. What's sad is that sometimes it seems like a senseless slaughter dozens of chicks as they just leave them laying there - dead and uneaten.

Farming wise, this means the cost of raising our chickens has skyrocketed this year. It's one thing to lose a $1.25 baby chick and another to lose a full grown, ready for market 8 pound broiler that has consumed $8 of high quality feed. That's a full $9.25 loss to distribute among the remaining chickens--and we've lost dozens.