A View From Here: Resettling Big Stone County Minnesota

Our stand at the Ortonville Farmers' Market

We shared some of our bounty at the farmers market again this year-- eggs, hand ground flour from Big Stone County, garlic, lots of veggys.

I was not a reliable vendor, but a happy and enthusiastic one when I was there. It's just that after working in St. Paul and then having to harvest, prep, and spend Saturday at the stand got to be a bit much. I'm glad my fellow farmers market folks were more consistant than me.

In reality- the economic don't really work out for us. It's not just that we don't earn much selling at the market, it's the opportunity cost. What else could we be doing on the farm to make it a productive enterprise? Is selling vegetables really our best way to have a successful local foods and farm venture?

Like Pooh Bear- I'm tapping my finger on my cheek going "think... think... think..."

What I treasure about those Saturday morning markets is the time with Alma, the faces of the community, the friends I made with folks in the stands around me. So we will see what 2010 brings.

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One of the 2009 class of broilers

Mike and the kids caught the 75 free-range broiler chickens we've been raising this summer, put them in the chicken crates he made, and took them to Ashby Minnesota to be butchered. The one in the picture skipped the trip to Ashby.

We've learned a lot about raising chickens and it shows! I hope you can see how yellow this bird is- a striking difference from last year's chicken.

This year we didn't use the portable chicken coop- moving it daily around the farmyard. We just let the chickens run wild. They were smarter, more interesting, less concentrated manure, and ate more diverse food. They showed instincts- like diving under a car or propane tank when a hawk flew over. We even lost fewer birds this year. And I think they are tastier... They were "finished off" on crab apples. The chickens just hung out eating apples all day long the last couple weeks.

We made old-fashioned fried chicken (dipped in eggs- then into our hand ground Big Stone County wheat) and it tasted divine as part of a traditional August farmhouse dinner- slice tomatoes and cucumbers, sweet corn, fried chicken, and cilantro tossed rice (okay- not traditional). Everything but the salt, pepper and rice was grown on our farm. Topped the meal off with some Black Current Wine (for me and Leona) and a Summit Pale Ale for Mike.

Enjoying the fruits of summer's labor...

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Kids in front of our garden

This is season two of our farming adventure. We're learning a lot, making some of the same mistakes, and vowing not to repeat them next year. Well-- next year will be another adventure on its own with setting up 92 acres of managed grazing.

But this organic food production is enough to kill you. Spring is all fresh and lovely with well tilled fields -- no weeds. But by the end of July the weeds are threatening everything we've planted. We know... we know... cover crops, mulches, landscape fabric, all kinds of options. But we've got a couple acres of sweet corn, popcorn, and flint corn alone. And I've been "walking the bean" to try to keep our organic black turtle beans (1+acre) weed free enough to combine come fall.

I bought some marigolds, flower seeds, and purely ornamental plants this spring. Needless to say... they were not prioritized above weeding my strawberry bed, gourmet lettuce patch, and my potato field. Between work, family and farm.... there is just no time for ornamentals.

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Our three Peking Ducks... Sadly, foodwise, the same number as my three kids

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Photo and Recipe Credit: Jennifer Hess of Last Night's Dinner

The garden is on the verge of a tsunami of vegetables. Last night we enjoyed the finest of dining -- entirely from our farm with the exception of the salt and olive oil.

I made the following recipe for Calabaza and it was as fine a meals as I've had anywhere on this planet. In fact, it had a taste of Ecuador -- a flavor I was afraid I'd never be able to recreate. I harvested the first fresh garlic of the year, picked fresh oregano and corriander, put the hot peppers in my pocket, and gathered some yellow summer squash. All just moments before I added them to the dish. It was as fresh and delicious as a meal can be. On the side were roasted fresh beets and new potatoes so tender the skins peeled off in my hands. I also enjoy a glass of black current wine from Strawbale Winery in South Dakota. I've taken to buying wine by the case from these folks.

I have such a feeling of accomplishment that I can not only grow our food, but prepare a dish entirely from Big Stone County that makes me close my eyes to savor the pleasure of eating it.

1 chicken, skin-on, cut into pieces (or use your favorite parts)
kosher or sea salt
olive or canola oil
2-3 fat cloves of garlic, peeled and chopped
1 red onion, peeled and diced
1 fresh chile pepper, seeds and stem removed, minced
3 medium zucchini or other summer squash, cut into evenly sized chunks
2-3 large ripe tomatoes, cored and cut into evenly sized chunks
dried oregano, Mexican if possible
fresh coriander (optional)
3 ears of corn, kernels removed from cobs

Season the chicken pieces with salt and brown them in hot oil in a large, wide skillet, in batches if necessary. Remove the browned pieces and set aside. Add onion, garlic and chile, season with salt, and cook briefly until the onion begins to soften and the mixture is fragrant, scraping up the browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the zucchini and tomatoes and stir to combine with the onion mixture. Add the oregano and coriander (if using), return the chicken pieces to the pan, cover and simmer until the chicken is cooked through. Add the corn and cook uncovered for just a few minutes, until the sauce is slightly reduced. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Serve with rice or warmed tortillas.

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Natural Resource Conservation Service Grazing Plan for our Farm
(EQIP = Environmental Quality Improvement Program)

Mike and I signed on the dotted line for the conservation plans for our farm- 172 acres total into grazing and organic agriculture beginning between now and 2011. We'll start by creating 92 acres of rotational grazing for beef cattle in 2010. This part scares me the most-- lots of fences, new well, many water lines and watering stations, big beefy animals that could step on little kids....

Across the driveway (not shown) we've enrolled 80 acres into the brand spanking new USDA Organic transition program. **Proud moment- we ranked 2nd in the entire State of Minnesota for this program** Mike is more intimidated by this organic 80 acres. In my mind, we could make this work just by force of will -- weeding by hand every day of the growing season if need be. Harvest with scythes, whatever... We actually calculated out the kids ages to figure out if they would be of good weeding ages in 2011 (7, 7 and 11).

So between the two of us we are confident we can make it work on the north and south side of the driveway (or conversely scared it won't work on the north or south side of the driveway).

In all honesty, part of my motivation for doing this (which my husband of nearly 15 years won't know until he reads this blog entry) is that we as a civilization have to-- HAVE TO-- learn (or remember) how to farm using sunlight as the major food source (grazing cattle) and making due with resources lower on the petroleum food chain (organic). Because in an uncertain future there will still be sunlight and some poop to keep this farm going.

So I am comfortable taking the risk of moving from conventional row crops (corn and soybeans) which we know can make the farm payments to experimenting with sunlight and crafty labor and inputs. When I say "Lord help us" that is not just a figure of speech.

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Photo credit: James Neeley

I just returned home to western Minnesota after a couple days in the SE Minnesota blufflands. Minnesota is unique in being the home to the intersection of three differnt biomes/ecosystems (prairie grasslands, coniferous forest, and deciduous forest) and when you travel between them you can see, feel, smell the difference.

So I'm suffering from ecosystem envy-- or probably garden envy! My sisters garden is a sight to behold. For example, last spring I planted 75 feet of strawberries which are soldiering on ankle high against the winds, cold, and dry spells producing hard little berries. At the same time my sister Kelley (and husband Jason- a dairy farmer) planted five plants and have knee high strawberries bursting with big berries and threatening to take over the rest of her garden, which by the way is spectacular.

Like I said in my last entry- the part of the prairie we live in is glorious savahna grasslands- but it is definitely a harsher climate. Violent winds, lower rainfall, longer winters (we are 250 miles North and West of my sister and mom). And not the easiest place to grow a garden. Our tomato plants were sand blasted by crazy winds blowing soil, my herbs just bake in the hot sun. My apple trees froze and thawed on their southern sides causing the bark to turn black and they too soldier on...

It also seems, from driving around, that the people and barns are holding up a bit better in SE Minnesota. Our barns, all around, are greying and collapsing. Empty farmhouses hanging on with thin hopes of being homes again. The barns in SE appear to holding up, painted if still empty of animals.

I tell my kids over and over that the key to happiness is to want exactly what you already have. To relish and delight in what is, not what could be. But dang, Kelley's strawberry pie tasted good!

**p.s. when I was little, a Dr. Neeley in Hayfield, MN sewed up my leg on a Sunday morning after an accident on Grandma's farm. This photo credit is a Neeley with lots of SE farm pictures. Anyone know if it's the same family?

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I was up before sunrise and stepped outside to a perfect late spring morning. The air was crisp and cool, a symphony of birds all around me- geese to the west, pheasants to the east, and any number of song birds and mourning doves all around me. Thanks to Mike’s hard work the garden is in. We have nearly five acres of market garden if you count the sweet corn, popcorn, and black turtle beans. Since we’re using organic production practices Mike strode in the house after planting the last of the beans and got on line to order Alma and me a couple of “stirrup” hoes. Says it’s going to be a challenging summer keeping the weeds down.

It’s wonderful to see the green shoots all around—it is full on biomass production time. With green shoots you can see, touch, and smell- shoots that will produce food to feed my family, friends, and folks in the community.

I had a dream last night. I was walking down a city street, like Wall Street, holding my newborn baby in my arms- only a couple days old. As I walked, a tall, young man in a suit pushed me over to get into his office door. I was very mad and walked into his office saying “how rude! You push over a woman carrying a newborn to get into your office?!” He looked over his shoulder, sneered at me, pointed Security over to me, and walked into his office. Three security guards, one like Secret Service, patted me down and one even groped me as my baby lay on the counter. I was furious and started citing my professional credentials. But I was ignored and helpless.

That dream shows my own frustration with giving the moneyed elite on Wall Street our national coffers so that they can get the green shoots going. They are sneering, taking your money, and groping you in the process. This will not end well.

I think we’re best off looking out here for green shoots.

**Note: I have to add that my Dad and Uncle were both community bankers who served families, communities, and small businesses with integrity and feeling (sometimes feeling quite bad during the hard times these).

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Grasp the Nettle= means to face up to or take on a problem that has been ignored or deferred

At first light on Sunday morning I'm sitting in a patch of frosty nettles watching Jens running across the backyard to find me. He's in his footy pajamas with bright blue puddle-jumper boots and wearing a huge red sweatshirt that hangs a foot beyond his hands and down to his knees. He has just turned five and is up early to ride the bike he got for his birthday the night before. In the chill of the morning he rides and I run up and down the driveway.

That is the image of my life I want imprinted in my mind forever...

The reason I was sitting in the nettles on Sunday morning is that Audrey (Moonstone Farms) introduced me (and Alma) to a new world of local foods on Saturday. I joined a group of folks to take her class "Grasp the Nettle" on eating native foods that grow all around us. This was another of those eye and world-opening experiences. We walked her farm and grove picking and eating all kinds of spring greens.

Then we prepared those greens into one of the finest meals I've ever had...
Nettle pasta with basil pesto (out of this world delicious!)
Steamed, buttered nettles with wine vinegar
Spezzati- spring onions, dandelion greens, Virginia Waterleaf and eggs
Ham and dandelion greens
Dandelion flower fritters
Burdock root sauted and mixed with wild rice and hazelnuts
Apple leather and dried elderberries

All that food grows around our farmstead without having to plant, weed, or water it. And it's free for the taking.

So we had nettles and eggs for breakfast and I even harvested enough to freeze some for next winter. Here's Jens eating the nettles- the thumb is pointed up, but his face says something different.

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Megan demonstrating to the Community Service Club how to plant the fruit trees

Last weekend we planted 177 fruit trees across the entire school district (which is about 50 miles wide) at the home of every elementary age kid in the school. For me it was a fun and interesting adventure.

My back of the envelope calculations are that those trees, at maturity, would provide enough food to feed the entire school district population for 4-5 days. Now that's a step towards community food security. What's more, it gives those kids access to healthy, local foods right out their back doors.

There are so many lessons we learned doing this project that I'm going to have to write them all down in a paper. But we couldn't have done this without the support of the Foodshelf, school board, Mr. Dreke (3rd grade teacher extraordinaire), the Community Service Club (farmers who left the field to plant other children's trees), Lou's Greenhouse in Big Stone City, SD, my husband, and Megan the student supported by the U's Community Assistance Program.

I want to say a few words about Megan the U of MN horticulture student who has an intuitive way with these trees- you have to see this woman pruning a few dozen trees to appreciate her skill and confidence with fruit trees. She whips out her pruners, hanging from her belt, and moves around the tree like Edwards Scissorhands (a dated reference from my youth). Megan's work with these trees brought to mind the book about scientist Barbara McClintock "A Feeling for the Organism." McClintock's discoveries in molecular biology were 30 years ahead of the times and she credits them to the intuitive sense she gained over years of working/being with corn.

Our traveling the county showed me the need for a home-scale horticulturalist to teach people to care for trees. People would grab Megan by the arm and take her to see their fruit trees and ask her to guide them in pruning. Next year (to which Mike quickly adds "there is no Next Year!") we will combine the fruit tree planting with some kind of tree care/pruning/maybe fruit preservation session.

Small enough to care about. Small enough to make a difference. What a great weekend.

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Minnesota's Local Foods Commission Legislation- introduced Monday March 23rd, 2009 All dressed up and in its jacket

A bill for an act relating to agriculture; creating a commission on local foods; requiring a report

It seems to me that a civilization and by extension, its government, should be devoted to first providing the basic needs of its citizenry. Frankly that is why I am incessently crabby about spending $10 trillion dollars on AIG, Citi, Bank of America, and others too big to fail. Another way of looking at the $10 trillion you and I are giving to banksters on the backs of our children's children's children is that it is the equivalent of paying for 170 years of the US Farm Bill-that includes food stamps, agriculture research, conservation practices, commodity payments, and all things agriculture.

That is why I am heartened and encouraged by Minnesota H.F. 2075. A bill to create a statewide commission on local foods. It is about bringing together our best, brightest, well intentioned, agrarian populists to make sure our state is doing all it can to ensure that healthy, local foods are available to us and our families. Contented sigh...

With all due respect to Representative Larry Hosch and Senator Gary Kubly (hopefully the senate author), the sound track in my mind for this legislation is "Sisters are doing for themselves! Standing on their own two feet. Ringing their own bells." That song is probably as close as I can come in my mental jukebox to a song about taking control of the basics of a wholesome, healthy, fruitful life.

You see that's the magic in local self reliance. That is the Jeffersonian ideal of a solid democracy. Can you see it? When we, collectively and supported by our institutions, are able to provide basic food, energy, water then we are free to be citizens. Standing tall and proud. And isn't that part of the beauty in small, diversified farms? It's why the eye and heart are drawn to a farmstead with a barn, garden, chicken coops, house, windmill and well handle.

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Our son "Earnest" holding the Boxelder Syrup we made

Yesterday the boys and I went to Big Stone State Park for our first adventures in collecting Box Elder sap for syrup. It was chilly and rainy, but Joanne (ranger extraordinaire) took us out to see the trees she had tapped, showed us how to tap a tree, and let us collect 3.5 gallons of syrup. At home we boiled the 3.5 gallons down to one golden, delicously sweet and buttery cup of Boxelder Syrup. Compared to Maple Syrup, the Boxelder is milder- almost marshmellowy. I hope I can do this every year from now on.

Do you have any suggestions for very special dessert on which to use this syrup?

The Big Stone Bounty isn't only this amazingly delicious syrup, it's the generousity of time, talent, and spirt that led Joanne to make this possible for us.

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photo credit Jenniferr Hess from her blog Last Night's Dinner

I've toyed with the idea just eating local foods-- foods grown within a couple hundred miles of where I live-- for Lent. Our ELCA Lenten e-mail messages started out with a treatise on eating local foods. Lent comes at a hard time of year to eat local in Minnesota-- it would be much more convenient if it were in September.

It might not be much of a sacrifice as we've been enjoying some incredible winter meals with local foods.

Our meal the other night was entirely local- from our farm and our neighbor's- except for the salt, pepper, and maybe the butter (but it was Cass/Clay and so could have been from Wade Athey's dairy east of us). We had:
-Pork Roast (Jim VanderPol) and pork gravy
-Pickled beets
-Mashed potatoes (Yukon Golds still looking fantastic in our root cellar and about 100 pound remaining)
-Squash (we had to cook and freeze all the remaining squash as it was going bad)
-Candied Crab Apples- from our own crab apple tree
-Well water to drink

Last weekend we enjoyed an all you can eat rib fest of beef and pork ribs (both pasture raised by neighbors) and cole slaw. We finished the last of the cabbages -- they looked moldy and dry on the outside, but peeling away the outer leaves left nice cabbage on the inside. We mixed the last heads of purple and white cabbage.

We are on the last frozen roasted red, yellow and green peppers. But we still have lots of sweet corn, chickens, lamb, venison, squash, frozen beans and pea pods, various edible dry beans, garlic, jams, apple sauce, beets, pickles, roasted red pepper spread, tomato sauces, potatoes, and a few frozen strawberries.

The carrots I buried in sand boxes in the root cellar are doing amazingly well -- I pulled out a large carrot that was sprouting last week and you could smell the sweet carrot fragrence and it was still firm and tasty to eat raw. We also have about a bushel of apples left in cold storage in the basement and they are still fine for fresh eating.

I'm not sure it will last us until this years harvest, but it will be fun trying...

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Megan- U of M Horticulture Student and Community Assistance Program project coordinator for the CGB Fruit tree project

So last spring every kid at CGB Elementary School got a $30 voucher for healthy summer snack to be used at the local small town stores. A wonderful idea. A couple days later I bought a few fruit trees from Lou's Greenhouse in Big Stone City, SD. $30 food voucher in one hand- $27 fruit tree in the other. Hmmmm. If we planted a fruit tree, those kids could have healthy summer snack right out their doorsteps.

So three of us, a parent, teacher, and food shelf staff person put our heads together and now are starting a project to plant a fruit tree in the yard of every CGB Elementary student. Our dream is to:

• Improve household and community food security
• Increase families access to healthy food
• Teach children practical sciences about fruit tree care, horticulture, plant, and soil sciences
• Let our school children get to know a college student who is excited about her work in Horticulture and see this as a potential career for themselves
• Create local self reliance in fruit tree care, fruit production, and preserving fruit to eat throughout the year (think apple sauce, dehydrated apple rings, or cold storage of apples).
• Test a new way for Food Shelves to provide a more sustainable food source for clients (like planting fruit trees)

We could use a bit more support for this project. Click on Continue Reading to find out how:

Continue reading "How about them apples?" »

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Alma in the storefront

Alma and I spent the better part of the day running the Granary Coop on mainstreet Ortonville, Minnesota. This store is a gem, and would be a gem anywhere it was located. It is a 100% volunteer run coop with the best variety of bulk organic foods that I've seen anywhere- Twin Cities included. The Granary, with its huge picture windows in a historic building on Mainstreet, adds a lot to the richness of living in Big Stone County for me.

This is a nice time for Alma and I to spend together- playing at being proprietors of our own little store of organic and local foods. Today there was bright sunlight, the smell of wholesome food, public radio playing in the background, and a mom and daughter with a world all our own.

This store wouldn't be here except for the dedication of a handful of people in Ortonville. Many thanks to Donna and Meg and all the others whose dedication keeps this great place open.

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Mike is the king of gift-givers (I'm not as evidenced by the soap dishes he got Year 1 and Year 2 of our marriage). Lookey lookey what I got for Christmas this year! My very own Country Living Grain Mill. So now I can make my own flour, corn meal, bean meal, nut butters, and maybe oatmeal.

We had a great day yesterday-- foraging for good things in Big Stone County. We headed down to Odessa (population 113) to buy bulk honey from Ellingson's. They have a robust honey and beeswax industry that employess folks year around. [Sadly my hives died last week with the extended below zero and 60mph winds and windchills. A sad lesson learned]. Then we went to JoAnn's house to buy some homemade soap and we plotted together to make some 100% Big Stone County soap- lye from our woodstove and vegetable oils from local crops. Lunch at The Cabin in Clinton and over to Todd's to pick up some wheat.

Bless Todd's soul- he pulled two bushels of wheat out of his grain bins. The variety of wheat Todd grew, Traverse, was developed by South Dakota State University and is named after the lake and county just north of us a few miles. So now I have some local wheat to turn into flour. Luckily Todd's son Travis (the football player) dropped by this afternoon and ground a couple cups. This is NOT as easy at it looks or sounds.

Grinding the wheat has a lovely smell. I've baked since I was young and never experienced the aroma of fresh ground flour. It is the smell of that Gerber dry baby food. It is probably lovely because it evokes those golden days of feeding babes their cereal.

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View from my Pantry-- The Western Wall

Tonight I begged out of a sweet family trip to Milbank, SD to see Madagascar II. Instead I walked west into the sunset and gave thanks for the big sky- purple, pink, blue, with all sorts of swirls, rows, and wisps of clouds. The blazing sun sinking into the horizon like a Serengi sunset photo. The antidote for feeling worn out.

After putting in the chickens (surprisingly few eggs!) I came in to a glass of local sweet strawberry/grape wine (thank you Audrey!) and the urge to show you my pantry. What you see is garlic hanging from the rafters, canisters of black and white beans, and canned vegetables and apples.

I canned a modest amount of produce with a disproportionately large amount of time. Call it learning curve. Or perhaps just the amount of time needed to put up a bountiful summer's harvest. People used to spend hours each day tending, preparing, and eating food. Maybe I just experienced the reality of living closer to the land, where we count "food footsteps" rather than "food miles" (the distance one's food travels from where it is grown to where it is consumed).

This pantry is the concentration of a fruitful season of gardening and all its joys. I gained a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment with each sealed jar.

Now it is November and instead of adding more jars, they are coming down one-by-one. Where it once flowed, it now ebbs.

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View from my Pantry-- The East Wall

Good harvest of squash considering that our garden was washed down the hill with the sheet erosion of the flash flood earlier this year. On the floor (out of sight) are sack of potatoes-- probably a couple hundred pounds.

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Picnicing on the edge of our soybean field. Our farmstead in the background.

A week ago it was 77 degrees and I had company. This is the kind of company that gives a person a break-- my mom and my aunt. They helped with the last of the harvest- putting up beets, making applesauce, pies, crisps, cleaning the dry beans, and making good conversation. This whole farm and food endeavor would be a lot less fruitful without the help of my mom. I'm grateful for the gift of good family- for the moral support in addition to the labor.

The gift of good soil and good family. We count them among our blessings every night.

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The other morning I replaced my morning run/meditation with gleaning- going through the harvested corn field to gather any corn left behind. My mental calculations were that I could feed the chickens for a few days, translating into less chicken feed to be purchased. It was an experiement too in response to a flurry of e-mails some months back about creating gleaning crews to gather in "leftover" organic vegetables. I thought I should try gleaning for myself.

I got the farm cart and a few 5 gallon buckets and headed out to the field. Three tractor passes happen with fall harvest:

1. Harvested with combine,
2. Stocks chopped with a chopper
3. A digger turning over the soil

I dragged my cart over the plowed field, into the chopped stock stubble, and over behind the combine (no one was out in the fields yet). I pulled the cart up and down the field-- looking every which way for corn. Let's just say the combine is pretty efficient. Some lessons:

- the edges of the field seem most fruitful
-this is darn hard work -- I only filled two 5 gallon bucket with chopped up corn chunks in about an hour
-I could only find the corn that was right under my feet (my plan to have my eyes sweep a 12 foot swath did not work). I walked up and down that field with my eyes glued to my feet.

All the time I was out there I had a song from Sesame Street playing in my brain.

"While looking at my feet at a crack in the sidewalk and finding a quarter and an old bus token

I nearly missed a rainbow

I nearly missed a sunset

I nearly missed a shooting star going by"

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One thing about living on the farm is that the kids work harder. Alma helped a lot iwth the garden and farmers market. Here's a picture of the boys on their way to clean out the chicken coop with their Dad.

I remember taking a Global Food Supply course as a graduate student. I learned that in parts of the world, children start making an agricultural contribution at age 5 and that at age 7 some kids are doing enough agricultural work to supply their food needs for the year. How can that be?

Mike said when be brought them back in:
~They were more help this year than last!~

I'm thinking-- they were only 3 years old last year. Amazing that at 4 years old they actually help lighten the load a bit.

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With the exception of beets, carrots and 1,000 feet of turnips (what do I do with 2 tons of turnips??)-- the garden is done for 2008. I just couldn't bring myself to erase the Last Summer Menu-- what with remembering eating the garden fresh sweet corn, basil pesto, stuffed peppers, and eggplant ratioullie...

Last night I took out the first frozen broccoli and added it to tuna noodle hotdish.
I think that about sums up the end of summer food.

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On Saturday morning I was up before sunrise and in the garden picking our vegetables to take to the Ortonville Farmers Market. The half moon was over my head as the sun came over the horizon. The Mourning Doves cooing and replying to each across the fields. I pull a bush of snopeas into my lap and uncover a shining chunk of granite underneath. Even the rocks are beautiful in this field. I'm content with my morning coffee at hand.

We harvested new red potatoes, eggplant, broccoli, cauliflower, snopeas, and beets. I also brought along a platefull of some homemade, organic monster cookies.

Mike set up our small table in front of the old Columbia Hotel in Ortonville. Jame Howard Kunstler would agree that this old hotel is the type of architecture that makes America worth caring about and even fighting for. Our being at the farmers' martket doubled the number of farmers from 1 to 2. It was fun to meet and visit with the local folks-- got to see my former English teacher from high school in Silver Bay! We sold out of eggplant, new potatoes, broccoli, and cookies.

And Alma was a lot happier to be there than it appears in this picture. She stood on the sidewalk waving to every car and holding a sign she made that said "Vegetables." [Note to self, leave adorable, energetic boys on the farm next time]

I'm still thinking about how this plays out in our lives. At this point, it's not really a money making venture-- more of a social affair blended with community service.

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You might spread this strawberry jam on your toast and eat it without hardly registering the complex flavors of the organic berries picked in a drizzling June rain, the air chilly on the edge of cold, and the mingling of grief and comfort. These berries were cooked into jam straight from the garden on a grey June day.

Last Saturday started with the kids and I leaving the farm set for an adventure (well at least I was and the kids had no choice). We drove due south trying to find a road crossing the 20 mile long Marsh Lake and Preserve. We drove into the preserve where the Minimum Maintenance: Travel at Your Own Risk road gave way to a grass track- “hang on kids!�? I yelled as I floored the minivan through some mud spots. It occurs to me that I don’t have my cell phone. The egrets and herons rise up looking like Pterodactyls in a world before time. When I can’t drive any further I get out of the van, climb the rise that’s blocking our way, and see miles of marshy land and lake. Time to turn around. I’m so glad I’m not a pioneer trying to cross this wet land with oxen and wagon. We drive around Marsh Lake on the county highways and make our way to Brad and Kristi’s Coyote Grange to U-pick organic strawberries.

While the kids ran wild, Kristi and I picked berries side by side. She’s a connoisseur of berries like a sommelier is a connoisseur of wine. She brought me different varieties to taste- I liked each one better than the last. Kristi and I have a common bond—we’ve both lost a sweet little lovey— our darling daughters Nora and Milly Rose. Over the berry picking, pausing once in a while to look into each other’s eyes, we talked about our love, loss, trauma, and continuing passages to… what (?). The feelings of grief and comfort passed through our fingers and into these berries. Our combined five children play around us—dripping with strawberry juice as they eat their weight in berries. Alma is hanging close by to hear the retelling of losing her sister (she was only 3.5 when Milly died).

Hungry, we left Coyote Grange and headed to Appleton for lunch. At the café on mainstreet we met a woman without a home-- camping in the city park and visiting her boyfriend in the prison. She’d found a job in town, but couldn’t see how she would get a roof over her head. She’d come in the cafe from the cold drizzle and could only afford a cup of coffee. “I’m not much for eating anyway…�? We bought her some lunch and were back on our way. Halfway home we pulled into the Drywood Church’s gravel parking lot and all took a ½ hour nap. It was gloriously refreshing.

So maybe if you’re lucky enough to get some of this jam (we picked 11 gallons of strawberries so don’t be surprised if you do) you’ll now taste all the loveliness and heartache of a day in and around Big Stone County.

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cherry blossoms --photo credit Dennis Fiser

The title of this blog entry shows an arrogance towards the natural world-- it lacks humility. But I couldn't help it-- I liked the cadence of "20 years in two days".

In the past week we (and I mean we) planted 75 feet of strawberries, 30 feet of asparagus, and 12 fruit trees - apples, pears, plums, apricot, and cherry. God willing (injecting humility) these perennial crops will bear fruit for 20 years. A hard two days work for some ever bearing returns. Now I know the work doesn't end with the planting-- we have weeding, watering, and harvesting. But it feels good to see those strawberries bursting with new leaves already and the bright pink apple blossoms. And if I hadn't left the camera on and drained the batteries you'd be seeing actual photos of the farm.

Here's an interesting aside. The man who delivered and helped plant the trees works with a number of Hutterite and Amish people at the greenhouses. One of the Amish women told him that they up and moved here from Pennsylvania about 8 years ago because God told them to. They woke up one morning and God had instructed them to move to Milbank South Dakota (just on the other side of the Minnesota River from us here at the headwaters). They had never heard of Milbank SD before, but followed God's instructions.
Steve was skeptical.
I was comforted.
Imagine-- I moved to a place where someone heard God whispering for them to go. I'll assume a whisper-- that's how I picture God would talk to us in still, calm moments.

I just read James Howard Kunstlers "World Made by Hand" -- the story of a small town in post-oil America. Kunstler paints a fascinating scenario of a world-- probably set just 10 years out from now-- reduced to walking distance and your food coming from what you can grow or barter for. One of his many points is that without all the constant barrage of tv, radio, video games... some folks can more clearly hear the voice of God. I'll do a book review in the next few days. This is the most hopeful post-collapse book I've read-- and that's my genre you know.

In the mean time--
inch by inch, row by row
someone bless these seeds I sow.

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Photo credit: Kelley Reber
Idea credit: Maggi Adamek

The buds burst yesterday. The first hints of green trees dotted around. I had this wonderful moment sitting on a 5-gallon bucket on the porch putting beeswax foundations into the frames for my beehives. Mike and Lake walked down the lawn and Jens ran to catch up- his determined little arms pumping in the air. They walked across the makeshift bridge over the intermittent stream that is full of spring water-- laughing, playing, on their way to the chickens.

It's planting time and our garden is going in-- we're (which means Mike) planting a big variety including brussel sprouts, parsnips (to Mike's objection), 5 kinds of edible dry beans (black turtles to great northerns), herbs, 3 varieties of potatoes, watermelon... Leona is gathering herbs for a tea garden. The bees will be arriving here in hours. I'm gaining an intimate sense of place-- the moisture in the soil, the way it works, the temperature of the soil (someone actually ASKED me the soil temp yesterday and I could say "it's only about 42 degrees"). This is the part of being a soil scientist that I hadn't experienced in class or text books. Good classes too. When I took Soil Morphology from Terry Cooper a whole new world opened up to me-- the beauty and awe of a soil profile.

One of the senses of place is taste. The French call it Terroir-- a taste of a place. This is the subtle taste that comes from a place-- why different regions in France have wines that taste differently because of the soil, the slant of the sunlight, the microclimate. Perhaps why a Colorado peach is so peculiarly good. I've been told that there is no place on earth where the vegetables taste as good as those grown in the Red River Valley-- and that maybe they are especially nutritious.

We are learning the taste of this place. Our chickens, eggs, the water. When we moved here I kept using the Britta water filter pitcher that my mother in law left us. Now we drink straight from the tap (and yes the waters been tested and is good). The water has a distinct flavor-- even strong sometimes of iron. But not consistently. I think I detect the taste of that water in the chicken meat-- really.

Over the years we Americans have lost that sense of terroir --a taste of place-- as the food industry succeeded in delivering the same consistent taste bite after bite, visit after visit. I think that people have actually become afraid of tasting something different—reticent to have variation and distinction. So now our family will find out the taste of Big Stone County—of a clay loam soil in the prairie pothole region. The taste of the water, the fruits of the soil, the pollen and nectar of the crops and prairie, the sunlight, and the moonlight.

Continue reading "Terroir-- the Taste of Place" »

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Here's some comfort reading that will take you right to some comfort food-- real comfort food. Put out by Dakota Rural Action, this is South Dakota's first local foods directory, as I understand it. Yes-- it's a directory and a good one. But it is also a testament; values statements from dozens of South Dakota farmers. Ken Pigor's entry about raising beef gives one faith in a world that can be put aright--- "We acknowledge and welcome our privilege and responsibility as good stewards to care for all of God’s creation with compassion and respect."

And it is a work of art. The book itself feels good in the hand.

Call DRA. Get one. Sleep a little better at night knowing the folks in this book are tending the land on our behalf. I do.

We use it. Calling farmers on Saturday morning to get shavings for our chickens--purchsing the seed garlic we've planted to the east of the house. Which, by the way, is popping out of the ground-- chartreuse spikes-- my favorite color. Unfortunately, we planted the garlic a little too close to the giant leaf pile, meaning heavy wild kid traffic. I must have refered to them as my "green babies" because Jens let me know he didn't hurt my "green babies" as I yelled at them to stay off my garlic patch!

The frogs and snakes are back--heard but not seen. It's amazing since it is so chilly, 35 degrees this morning, yet they are croaking in the slough right now. Mike thinks I'm confusing frogs with the sound of mallards feeding-- but I saw squished frogs on the road-- a confirmation. The egrets are back-- one Blue Heron and a number of white phase Blue Herons. The geese have passed on to the north. The ducks are coming through-- some staying I imagine.

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Last Thursday I spent the evening in the Old Milan School in Milan Minnesota. The folks at CURE hosted a gathering of people from the Upper MN River basin interested in a local foods movement. I felt as if I were in the presence of a saving remnant. These are the people who see a different way in the world-- it's not a world of corn and soybeans as far as the eye can see. It is a rich and beautiful land-- with neighbors, food, the embrace of community, justice and beauty. Besides which, if things should go to hell in a hand basket and I can't feed my kids mangos on a winter night in Minnesota, I could feed them Audrey's elderberries and Mary Jo's beef and Carol's winter lettuce grown right there in Milan. A saving remnant indeed!

A 1936 essay by Albert Jay Nock appeared in the Atlantic Monthly pondering the Saving Remnant from the book of Isaiah and modern America. He says:

"Ah," the Lord said, "you do not get the point. There is a Remnant there that you know nothing about... They need to be encouraged and braced up because when everything has gone completely to the dogs, they are the ones who will come back and build up a new society; and meanwhile, your preaching will reassure them and keep them hanging on. Your job is to take care of the Remnant, so be off now and set about it."

Nock ends the essay saying "....hence a few of those who feel the prophetic afflatus might do better to apply themselves to serving the Remnant. It is a good job, an interesting job, much more interesting than serving the masses.."

I confess that I think of my own work as serving the Remnant--a good and interesting job--surrounded by many colleagues.

But right now I have to go out and play in the mud with my little kids.

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Imagine this. It is March 7, 2008 in the heart of the tall grass prairie region—what was once the greatest expanse of grassland in the world. It is winter, 13 degrees below zero. I am feeding my children a treat-- mangos (from Peru) and papayas from some other very warm place. I bought them in Ortonville, Minnesota. A modern miracle of food supply.

As I stand over my warm stove, I’m listening to American jazz, also from somewhere other than this cold prairie. I have a sense of appreciation for the warmth that the sweet tropical fruit and the music bring to my life here on a winters evening at the 46th parallel.

I’m reading Plan B 2.0 by Lester Brown (click on this link—the entire book is available on line). Brown lays out the environmental and economic situation we find ourselves in today and lays out a plan for a much better tomorrow—much better than if we try to stay on our current path.

What struck me, while eating my mango (at least metaphorically) is that humankind tipped the balance of over using our resources (water, soil, natural resources) around 1980. This means instead of living off the “interest�? provided by the earth’s bounty, we started eating into the “principle�? of our natural resources. The same study estimates that “global demands in 1999 exceeded that capacity by 20 percent. The gap, growing by 1 percent or so a year, is now much wider. We are meeting current demands by consuming the earth’s natural assets, setting the stage for decline and collapse.�?

We can’t keep going on this way and expect to have a happy ending.

Somehow, it makes the mangos taste even sweeter knowing that perhaps we are living in this blip of time (let’s say a 70 year period) when life is easy and sweet.

Posted by Kathryn Draeger at 4:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

photo credit Ashley Hockenberry (forgot my camera in St. Paul)

I'm told that supply is an issue for local foods.

We had our first 1 dozen egg day yesterday!! We have reached the point where we are producing more healthy, local eggs than we can eat. With 38 layers we are on track to produce about 190 eggs per week or 15 dozen. They are as "free range" as a chicken in the winter wants to be, eat corn grown on our farm and shelled by a couple of three-year olds on the kitchen floor (note to parents-- little boys love to shell corn and it can keep them busy for minutes at a time!!-- oh but then there is the mouse problem what with corn everywhere).

So now we are trying to find an outlet for our eggs. We eat 3 dozen a week. We have family who will take another 3 dozen per month. I've started to talk to local places about selling them. The results:
1) local grocery store. Tried for a couple weeks, then said "no" very nicely
2) local restaurant. No.
3) neighbor-- can't abide eggs with bright orange yolks (what's with that??)
4) Trotters restaurant in St. Paul. Yes. So Trotters will buy eggs for $1.50 per dozen. 15 dozen per week would be $22.50 per week. The drive, however, is 360 miles round trip or about $180 in mileage reimbursement. I do travel to the Cities often and could drop them off at Trotters. My $22.5 would buy me lunch with a friend or a box of muffins for a staff meeting-- nice quality of life goodies, but not efficient or sustainable farming.

Finding each of these eggs is a treat. The kids and I actually saw one of the chickens laying an egg-- like it was planned. Her face to the wall, snuggled in the bedding-- you could see her settle in and fluff up to lay that egg. So there are many joys and lessons in growing our own food, apart from any economic motivation. But we would like to figure out how to get our eggs into our community.

My other motivations are in "continue reading" cuz it ain't pretty...

Continue reading "Chicken Confidential: Local Foods Part II" »

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boys and chicks 9/14/07

Walked out the door and into the fog with Alma at 7:10. After she was on the bus, I walked down the road the 1+ mile to the USFWS reserve for a couple moments of calm-- look to the N, S, E, W, the sky, the ground. What did I hear?

Cockadoodle do!!

I smiled. Cross the field it's less than 1/2 mile to our barn-- the prairie wetland preserve is the southern boundary of our farm. I couldn't see the barn through the fog, but hearing those rooster crow gave me a feeling of pride. We ordered up 50 baby chicks the 1st of September and they all survived. Last week the hens started laying eggs and a couple roosters made good eatin'.

I knew we made the right choice about moving our family to the farm when one day the kids and I went into the chicken coup and Alma chased down a big hen, grabbed it, tucked under her arm without a hint of hesitation. It was the unselfconscious confidence to grab the screeching, clawing chicken without a flinch. I thought-- that's the 8 year old I hoped to raise.

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Went to a meeting of Big Stone Area Growth last night. My mind is whirling with all the possibilities; one of which is recreating a local foods economy. Can we support a local foods industry with just 5,000 people living in this county?

Do the math:

5,000 people
X $120/month spent on groceries (a conservative estimate)
= $600,000 per month on groceries or $7.2 million per year on food to eat

If just 10% were spent on local foods that would be $60,000 per month or $720,000 per year. That could support 5 new small farm families with a gross income of $120,000 per year on a 40 acre parcel or so. That could be a decent quality of life.

Increasing from 0% to just 10% local foods sold in grocery stores, butcher shop, direct market and farmers market means $720,000 per year stays in our county. We retain our wealth, we support our community. We could produce healthy, local pork, beef, chicken, eggs, fruits, vegetables, jams, pickles, and maybe could include some grains like oatmeal.

As one of those consumers/producers I want healthy local foods-- meaning some grassfed animals and sustainably produced produce.

Those figures don't even include local foods sold in the restaurants, care facilities, the local schools....
And maybe some day microbrewery using locally grown hops to make some Big Stone Brew...

Could this be low hanging fruit for some quality of life, quality of place, economic development? Someone check my numbers please.

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Mural in the sisters' break room. I will try to get the name of the artist. It is about 6 feet wide and 4 feet high.

I woke up this morning in a monastery

It is the third time I've been here. It is a beautiful place-- once a farm along the river. The mural depicts the life of the sisters some year ago when they were probably food self sufficientand then some . That mural has been etched in my mind since the first time I saw it two years ago.

The first time I was here, fall 2005, one of the sisters led us on a tour along grounds and the nature trail that follows the river. I noticed there were small signs set into the woods about 20 feet from the trail. I went in and read the simple words-- paraphrased "He Came" "He Lived Among Us" .... I would walk along the trail and see another quiet, simple sign just in the woods. Leave the trail to see the sign. "He suffered" I'm not Catholic and didn't realize it was the 12 stations of the cross. "He died" I got then to the last sign along the river, in the quiet woods, right next to the monastery's cemetary and it read "He is risen." I don't know why (or maybe I do) I burst into tears. The walk, the peace, the absolute art of these stations of the cross set into the woods. Somehow it was so personal to me- it was the short, too short, walk I had with my daughter Milly who died. Yet at the end was hope.

We're here to inhabit the year 2050 and become more agile to COPE with all the futures in front of us. This is my job. Wow. This is the thought among the action. There was a lot of discussion about hope-- "even if there isn't hope we could act as if there is" (Gretchen). Look for "true hope" (Eddie)

Our faciliator, Brian Stenquist, wrote the poem in the "continue reading" link below

Continue reading "A peaceful place in time" »

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Alma and I took a trip to Washington DC last month-- thanks to my birth Mom Leona. It was wonderful, relaxing, and inspiring. I find the quote above from the US House of Representative inspiring-- exactly why I want my kids to farm. Exactly what I want my husband to be doing while I'm writing the great American Agro-Eco Thriller in my 3rd story office overlooking the prairie. Teehee hee.

The picture below is my favorite sculpture in all of WDC-- it sits in front of the Supreme Court. I've kept a framed photo I took of this sculpture close by me for the past 10 year. A confident woman riding a seething horse/serpent while brushing back her hair. In this picture I can see the relaxation in my face-- it was so wonderful to be completely there.

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From our home in St. Paul we were within walking distance of Mississippi Market in Highland Park. Abundant fresh, local and diverse food. On Saturday I drove over 50 miles round trip to the Hutterite colony to stock up on local foods-- 50#'s of potatoes, tomatoes, squash, pumpkin, pickles, sauerkraut, some frozen turkey pot pies, jams, relishes, cucumbers and the last of the seasons watermelon. Delicious and wonderful harvest. Next year we should have some of our own. I'm grateful for my Hutterite "neighbors."

So I'm a mom and a local foods advocate living in rural Minnesota. My gold standard would be organic and local. In the mean time local would be great. Apart from the Hutterites farm market, my nearest grocery store is now 11 miles away and doesn't carry any local foods-- except for some of the Hutterite jellies, jams, and relishes. I asked about carrying some local eggs-- the Pride of the Prairie egg coop operates in this area. Bonnie, our grocer, said that she only has 1 choice for eggs on the food distributors list. If I could track down the contact information she would look into it. I told her it might cost more-- she said that people prefer the Hutterite jams and do pay more for them and so she would be willing to give it a try. Heck-- we go through a couple dozen a week ourselves.

It's interesting that I move from the smack dab middle of St. Paul where I have quick, easy and abundant access to local foods to a farm where it is much more of any effort to track down a local diet. I'm sure over time we will get grow more of our own-- but in the mean time I'm like many working families that depends on the local grocery store. Our food choices don't include much local/organic.

Kinda confirms Ken Meter's work on Finding Food in Farm Country

http://www.crcworks.org/wcmnsum.pdf

Posted by Kathryn Draeger at 6:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)