Connecting Over Food- in Kerkhoven, MN

I cut out of work a bit early on Friday and drove the four hours home from St. Paul to Big Stone County with a tear stained face. I'm sure many Americans headed home to embrace their families and children the same yesterday.
Something good happened along the way down Hwy 12 and it seems like a good time to tell a happy tale. It may not be widely known, but I have a penchant for rural food access and a love of rural grocery stores. So I make it a point to spent 100% of our grocery budget in these mom and pop shops that are the front line of providing healthy food in our small towns.

Julio D at the Quality Family Foods grocery store in Kerkhoven, MN

I stopped in Kerkhoven MN's Quality Family Foods to do some grocery shopping. There was an assortment of locally grown squash varieties near the front door. So I loaded up on them- as well as some fruit, nuts, and crackers. When I checked out I had to pay for the squash separately as that money went directly to the farmer. My mountain of squash came to $13.29. I counted out my dollars and a handful of change and came up with $12.29--one dollar short. I was thinking through my options 1) put one of the squash back 2) ask the clerk to just gimme the squash for $12.29 when the young man behind me said "Ma'am. I can pay for your food."
I turned to look at the young teenage boy in a hoodie buying his Mt. Dew and Doritos. "Really?" I asked him. Here I am - a stranger, a middle class, Scandanavian looking woman in my professional attire-- and this boy was stepping up to buy my family our healthy, local food. I paused- wondering whether accepting this boy's money was the right thing to do. I mean, should I take money from this young guy? Maybe his family needs that food money more than mine.

"Thank you. I would really appreciate that" I said and he handed his money over to the cashier to pay for my food.

"Did you just see that?" I asked the bag boy who was helping me take my groceries to my car. "That kid just bought me - a rich white woman- my groceries." And I used the word rich, because I am rich in that middle class kinda way- with a home, food, car, loving family, interesting and meaningful profession, etc... I grabbed my camera and went back into the store.

"I'm Kathy. That was really kind of you to help pay for my groceries. Can I shake your hand? What's your name?"

"Julio D__", he replied.

I asked him if he'd mind if I took his picture and wrote a little story. He gave me his ok.
I told the few people in the store that I thought this nice young man and his generosity to a stranger said a lot about their little town. I should have said and a lot about the good values that Julio's family had instilled him- kindness, respect and generosity. Values that I find many rural Minnesotans hold in common.

There's been a series on Minnesota Public Radio about how the face of rural Minnesota is changing to include more immigrants. An article on Making Connections Across Ethnic Lines was highlight just the day before. As I took Julio's picture- the blonde teenage girls with him wanted him to look good and said "put down your Doritos!" And when I said that Julio made their town really shine, they coo'ed "oooooh!"


I want to thank Julio of Kerkhovan Minnesota for stepping up to help a woman he'd never met, and probably will never meet again, to buy food for her family. I promise you that tonight as we bake and eat that squash that our mealtime prayer will include a blessing for those who helped provide it. In this case it will be a blessing for Julio. 

Coming Home to a Very Proud Community

CLINTON-GRACEVILLE-BEARDSLEY SCHOOL DISTRICT
2012 STATE 9-MAN FOOTBALL CHAMPIONS
It is a good time to be living in Clinton, Beardsley and Graceville Minnesota. Our small towns, together, won the 2012 Nine-Man State Football Championships. What a tremendous community building experience. What sheer, unadulterated joy if you are willing to just give yourself completely over to the experience of small prairie towns bursting with pride over the collective efforts of its children. Let's just go with that feeling. Hopefully for months and years to come.
The last time one of our three towns won a state championship was the 1926 boys basketball team from Beardsely, MN. So once every three + generations or so we strike upon the ingredients that make for champions. What are the odds that our family would be here to enjoy such good fortune? But here we are. And enjoy we will.

Even the State HS Football League officials were impressed by the turnout of our small communities. If my math was correct, there were about 1,000 people in the stands cheering on CGB. Keep in mind that the total population of our three towns is about 1200 (Clinton 400, Beardsley 225, and Graceville 575).

Among those 1,000 were a number of 'exiles'- the folks that have built their lives elsewhere after growing up among the good people of our prairie towns. A few of the exiles didn't know what the consolidated school districts new colors were (they are blue and silver) as they may have graduated from the town with the green and the gold shamrocks. There were rivalries and even some cultural divides among these small towns.

There was a fair amount of pain that came with the necessity of closing down schools and busing kids across what is now a 50 mile wide school district. Not a choice any of these towns wanted to make. But this win- this collective win- is possible because we brought all of our children together into this one CGB school district not by choice, but by necessity. And after all these years, the old alums of their respective villages are now excited, happy and know the 'new' school colors. "Go Wolverines!!" They all shouted together. All 1,000 of them. A lot of healing took place on Friday. Healing that was decades in the coming. A good thing.

But oh! the breathe taking fun that was to follow the game. We drove the four hours back to our small town. It was night now and the prairie was dark. There were cars and people lined up waiting to wave on the team starting many many miles from home. People from Cyrus (40 miles east), Morris, Chokio, Alberta--wearing parkas and waving at the cars. The Morris, Chokio and Graceville fire departments had their trucks out and were waiting to escort the team the last miles to their hometown. And in Graceville, MN the Case tractor dealership had turned on the blinking lights on all the tractors in the lot. It was a treat to the senses and to the heart.

It was nothing short of thrilling to watch the cold, dark and quiet nighttime prairie come alive with lights, sirens, and people. Watch this: (start at 1:31 to avoid hearing me yell at my kids)

I am going to digress. I'd lived an adventurous life before settling down in Big Stone County. My work as a Soil Scientist has taken me to every continent except Antarctica. I've traveled through war torn Colombia, hitchhiked alone on the Golan Heights of Israel, meditated in the Taj Mahal in India. But it is this adventure- this adventure in farming and rural life - that is my best. It is moving, grasping, heart rending, and exhilarating. It is profound.

And if you take some still, calm moments you will recognize much good in the people around you. I loved senior football player Ethan Chase's talk to the crowd and his teammate at the Welcome Home party back in the high school gym. I liked how he came to say it, as much as what he said, because in his moment of glory Ethan quoted the bus driver. The nameless bus driver. The bus driver told those boys that they were coming home to a very proud community and that they should cherish every moment and those around them. Ethan typifies these good plains people who know that wisdom resides in everyone- that we don't need to look to people of distinction to find truth and inspiration. That it can be found in all of us in our everyday. And so listen here (for the first minute):
Ethan Chase responds to crowd

This morning in church we all gave not just one, but two rounds of applause for the football players sitting in the pews. And after church those strong boys were put to good use hauling the Christmas decorations up the stairs for the ladies to begin decorating for the season.

What's left to say? Go Team!

Without a Trace

I made the first entry in this blog in September of 2007-- a solid 5 years ago. In that time I've been the observer of the recent changes to this place. Building by building. Farmstead by farmstead. Mostly there is a diminishment with each event. I've chronicled a few of the events as they happened- moving the Dry Wood Church away, the loss of historic buildings to fire and neglect.
But the last few weeks have just been "in your face" loss.
We are now down to one dairy farm in the county (from 400 in the 1960s). The historic Columbia hotel burnt down after being an anchor and landmark for 120 years on Main Street in Ortonville, MN. And another farmstead was razed and wiped off of the landscape this week.

I drive the same route when I head to the Cities. Last week I passed this familiar landmark farmstead on the corner the Chokio road and the Hancock road.

View Larger Map

This farmstead is gone as of this week.

A nice little farmstead- neat and tidy with a little house, a few solid outbuildings, and a grove of trees. From one week to the next- it was gone. All of it. Every last bit. The trees, the home, the farmstead. A few piles of dirt is all that is left to mark the transition from a peopled countryside to ag land. I'd say farmland, but that implies something more wholesome than I feel like attributing to this development. You know- like a farm instead of a global commodity business.

The farmstead turning into cropland
With each death of an old farmer, the humble homes are left to deteriorate. And with the price of land and value of cash rent, those homesteads are being burnt down/buried and plowed up. I've only been here for five years and I see it all around me.
I am bearing witness to the depopulation of the countryside.
I am bearing witness to what, for all practical purposes, appears to be the end of farming as we have known if for millennia. 100 years ago the farming practices used on this same land were recognizable with the farming described in the old and new testaments. Farming brought us the best of civilization and is woven into our culture and recognizable in many of the hymns we sing and the symbols in every stained glassed window in our church. The wheat- wine- grapes- lamb- green pastures. An inspiration.

Today farming has become the production system at the front end of a global supply chain. We aren't growing food out here for our families, our neighbors, or even for our country. The land and the people who 'work' it are part of a global industrial commodity markets.

We've so perversely incentivized industrial agriculture that there is virtually nothing like a family farm remaining. A diversified family farm is a thing of the past. It's time came and went. It was a good run- a 14,000 year run. And I for one believe we leave that form of farming at our peril. Not just for the production but for the civilization it inspires. The independence. The hard work. The good values of being raised close to the earth and to animals. I admire those farmers.

Oh sure- there are some nostalgic notions and even investments going on right here on this farm. Hell- we might even build a wooden barn. And to be sure I came here- to Big Stone County- for the romance of farming. I came here for all that is good and right about stewarding the land with which I am entrusted, to eat 'honest' food and meat that we grew and butchered ourselves. How romantic is that?

There's enough grief to go around tonight. But I am taking off my hat and bowing my head for the loss of yet one more farmstead. Time will tell, but today I cannot imagine that once those family farmsteads are erased that they will be rebuilt.

A Saturday in Big Stone County-- a day in the life

I set out a couple Saturdays ago to take one picture every hour of my life in Big Stone County. It's a rich and sometime busy life. If you're under the impression that small town and rural life is slow paced and without opportunities, you might be surprised. Here's a view of a day in the life of a farm mom in Big Stone County.

It started early with taking Alma into Clinton for play practice. The school is doing the musical Oliver!
While Alma was at practice, I headed down to the Harvest Fest at the Apple Ranch on Big Stone Lake. There were lots of friends to talk to, artists and artisans, and apples to be bought. Any U of M students at Food Day at the U? You may have enjoyed those apples on the Regional Partnership's table. Last year I met a woman who raised her own alpaca, spun their wool into yarn, and knit lovely hats and scarves. This year I marveled at Liz Rackl's granite carvings. I couldn't stay as long as I liked because it was time to pick up Alma from play practice and so I headed back to Clinton.

Alma and I had a bit of time to spare before we went to a friend's house and so we stopped to visit Doreen at the Cabin Cafe. We split a homemade caramel roll and I enjoyed a good cup of coffee. People! Go out of your way to eat at The Cabin Cafe- Doreen is a great cook and committed to using healthy food. Organic oatmeal for breakfast and secret recipe pie crusts made with canola oil-- and delicious! Open 7am to 2pm Tuesday - Sunday. Pie on Sunday only.

On the way to our friend's house to help them move, we passed what looked to be 3 or 4 generations of one family combining corn. Alma got a good look at the guys in the combine- and older man with a very old man. Looked like an aging farmer with his own elderly dad bringing in the harvest. What a great touchstone for a farm life and a family on a crisp autumn afternoon.

Alma and I went on to our friends JoAnne and Simon's house- for a fun and sad time helping them move. JoAnne and her family had to move away because the DNR cut her hours as the Big Stone State Park ranger. We need this beautiful state park! We need this young and active family! Just think- the weekend they moved out we lost .1% of the population of the county. So this was not a happy event- but I'm sad to say it is indicative of the state of the county. (Let's change that) 

We stayed for sandwiches and apples at JoAnne and Simon's and then off to the big game! Clinton-Graceville-Beardsley had a Saturday afternoon football game. Met the rest of the family there and we all stood with hands on heart as the Star Spangled Banner was played by the school band.

An hour later I was cold and warming up in my car. Check out the great view of the game with a fieldside parking spot! And me- after my gushing thrill of football post a few weeks ago- now reading the Energy Bulletin on my cell phone.

At last back home to hang out, process tomatoes, and cook up a batch of ham and veggy soup. This tomato squisher/de-seeder is the best invention EVER! We make great seedless sauce in no time. What's more, the chickens get the seeds and the tomato skins and think of all the healthy nutrients there- not a bit wasted.

This takes some time and makes a big mess. So got the whole family involved including in the clean up, which made for some crabby moments. The sun was going down in the west. 

As the tomato sauced cooked down and the ham and veggies stewed- I had a few moments to myself. 

















Dinner together:

And upstairs to bed- but first a couple games of hangman.

String together a bunch of simple pleasures and you get something of a life well lived. The trick, I think, is to pay attention-- every hour sometimes.

On FIL's and the (made up) Sin of Overwork

Homesteaders- 1890 (from MN Historical Society).

A few days ago I was driving east from our farm home to my work in St. Paul. I had the first 100 miles under my belt when my cell phone rang. It was a family emergency. My car was still heading east as I asked for more details- "which hospital are they taking dad too?" I found out Mike's dad was in an ambulance on the way to Sioux Falls, SD- which is the third hospital away from his home (150 miles) and a level up in providing trauma care.

I pulled over. Pointed my car north. Stopped. Cried. Pointed my car west. And went back home to take care of my husband and kids.

Pretty simple equation right? Family emergency - work= Taking care of the right thing at the right time.

And it was absolutely the right decision. But it was not without some internal struggle. I am always reluctant to take the "non-work" option, even when it is without a doubt the right option to take.
I wasn't raised Catholic, but know of the seven deadly sins through our cultural lexicon. Surely, I thought, overwork would be one of those 7 sins. I thought I would find some strictures about not putting work above all else on the list, which I now know reads: lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride. Unfortunately, I also learned that the Roman Catholic virtue that 'remediates' (my word- not theirs) the sin of sloth is "diligence" or the Latin equivalent "Industria." That actually sounds a lot like the virtue is work and the other side of the equation, well..., is a deadly sin. Oh good Lord.

My father-in-law (FIL), David, is a second generation American--his grandpa and grandma hailing from Denmark and Norway. Part of my heritage is as a 3rd generation American. When I called my birthmom to ask just now (we're friends), she said that my great-grandma was two of the four children that survived the crossing from Norway to America. One was buried at sea- the other buried on land they think.

I'm guessing it was the most "industrious" and probably desperate immigrants who got on those boats heading west to America. Hard work- hard scrabble- good years- bad years- make hay while the sun shines- droughts- dust bowl- dreams- and a farm. That has to imprint on one's being and through the generations. This is no work born out of ambition or ego- this is the desperate work needed to put your children to bed under a blanket and with food in their stomachs. This is the work needed to see those you love survive.

My FIL was a dairy farmer no less, until a few years ago. As hard working breed of farmers as there's ever been. Especially the way that David and Jean did it- on their own. A family farm. Just a couple days before the heart attack that landed David in the hospital he was helping a family friend, a widow, get her house painted before the winter. Industria is a virtue; but not entirely.

It's my opinion that there is a lot of modern Western drama and even fake dilemmas about our overworked and strained lives. It is born of a luxury and privilege to even consider. And yet, it is an age old issue that humans have grappled with throughout the millennia. How do I know? Well, I look to an ancient book of wisdom that tells humans that they need to rest on the 7th day. Even the land is given over to rest in fallow the 7th year. I am a person of faith and intellect, who some days is weary, heavy laden. And within weariness I try to remember that we are sentient and spiritual creatures who are meant to be, and who are, so much more than our life's work.

Those hard working ancestors and immigrants who proceeded all of us to this time and place worked hard to survive and their work secured a more comfortable present for many, though not all, of those who may read this. I made the right decision to turn back west and to abandon my place of employment in order to return to my farm and family. My family will remember and benefit from my attention for generations to come.


David is doing fine today and is back home recouperating. And I think now we'll see him slow down, just a bit, to get some needed rest. 

Good day. Good people. Good wine.

Our family spent the most pleasant autumn day imaginable working the vineyards with (and of) our neighbors Danny and Michelle. I didn't know - I simply could not have known-- how very sweet wine grapes taste because I had never picked and eaten fresh ripe grapes, warm with the sun. The Marquette grapes Danny planted and tends thrived this year, I understand, because the drought. 
Let me tell you about Danny- he is creative, hard-working, innovative and full of ideas that he makes happen. He is probably a bit like me in having more ideas than ability to fulfill them. I don't know if he stops long enough to appreciate all the beauty he and his family have created out here on the prairie--a lovely Spanish stucco and tile home that deserves a story all by itself. A three acre vineyard with trusses and draped with soft fabric--all of it with the backdrop of rescued farm outbuildings and prairie habitat and wetlands behind. This little piece of heaven is named Juanita's Vineyard, after Danny's mom who I knew as Nita.

Nita, a nurse, was one of the first people I met here in Big Stone County. She was the first responder who showed up at my house after my big fall and put an oxygen mask over my face as I was going into shock. Just so you know, Nita had retired from being a first responder by the time she showed up to take care of me. She came because she was a caring, loving neighbor and beloved member of our community. Losing her too early was a cruel blow to the many people whose lives she had touched with her sweet and caring ways. Her husband said he would have enjoyed seeing her win a million dollars, just to watch how fast she gave it all away. The world needs more people like her.
And so, both the grapes and the people who grow them are of good stock- with an unexpected sweetness that you may not guess can be tended and nourished out on this sometime harsh prairie land.

Danny and Michelle brought over a fresh bottle of their wine yesterday- one week old and 14+% alcohol. It was the most delicious wine I have ever tasted- heavy, warm, sweet, rough, sunny, rich, earthy, good, kind, and soul satisfyingly sweet. Each glass was filled with memories, love, grief, goodness, and neigborliness. With a bouquet that will linger the rest of my life. 

Friday Night (No) Lights

Home games at Clinton-Graceville-Beardsley school played in the afternoons on the unlit field

It's funny how you can't even imagine or guess the things in life that you will end up loving. That's happened to me a few times in life. Like when I was first introduced to the field of Soil Science. Dr. Terry Cooper, U of M Dept. of Soil, Water and Climate, taught a field soils science course where we went around the State and looked at soil cutouts (profiles) and I discovered a whole entire new world and universe. Holding a Munsel Color Chart up to a soil profile and working my eyes to make the perfect, delicate match R5/Y3. I fell head over heels in love with this new world filled of creativity and art and science. The thoughts I developed in those early days of learning Soil Science still drive part of what we are doing on this very farm. And then there's the shocking fact that my daughter got me hooked on country music by insisting that she would help put up the corn ONLY if we stopped listening to MPR and put on some toe tapping tunes. In defense of country music, I've found it hopeful, touching, and more importantly respectful of women.

CGB Homecoming Parade

My most recent heartfelt attachment has been right under my nose for a few years. Not sure what it was that tipped me over the edge- but it happened at the homecoming football game. Maybe it was watching the children and contributing businesses and clubs on Main Street Graceville, MN for the Homecoming parade. (Though this was the 5th year I've taken in that parade) Perhaps it was being outside for a few hours on one of those few, absolutely perfect autumn afternoons. There are some autumn days in Minnesota so perfect that if you aren't are your knees giving thanks you should have tears in your eyes and bliss in your heart. Maybe it's the fact that my twin boys are now 8 years old and no longer need my 100% vigilant attention at games. 

Whatever the combination, something clicked for me and I find myself thoroughly enjoying the world of 9-man high school football.

There is something wholesome and right about an afternoon 9-man football game out on the prairie. On this particular night, the flag at half mast in remembrance of 9/11 and people were sincere as they, to the last person, held their hands on their hearts for the Star Spangled Banner- my daughter playing for the 1st time in the pep band. The corn fields were ripening and drying beside the field and guys watched from their back of their farmer father's truck. Maybe it's the feeling of being a part of this place--the friendly waves and Jimmy's rap on my shoulder. And the number of caring community members in the sports boosters who spent the game flipping burgers to raise money to keep the sports programs strong. And the game itself is more amazing to me as I watch those boys fly through the air and run with powerful abandon to the end zone. And I feel proud of this community I live in. These folks invest in the kids- the football players and parents spend Saturday mornings playing flag football with the kids as young as second grade. 

And so on any given Friday night, you can find and witness some of what is right about rural places. Go Wolverines! #1 ranked 9-man team in Minnesota!

Scarcity and Abundance

There's been enough scarcity to go around these days. Remember those pictures of the lush corn crop in late June? And that story about The First Cutting of Hay? Well, it was the only cutting. The corn died and the hay crop didn't grow (but is still hunkering in!). No hay to sell and the corn yield will be well below the bill paying level, yet enough not to trigger crop insurance payments (maybe 50 bushels an acre). Here's what a few hundred acres of dead corn looks like in August 2012.

The soil is turning to dust and on our farm the clay soil cracks are so deep, you can't see the bottoms. I turned the camera flash on this crack- hoping to see how deep it went. The soils are losing all their structure and becoming fine dust. I suspect this is what they felt like going into the dust bowl years

And not just farming is impacted by this long, dry spell we are having in our township. I say our township, because the weather has been spotty and erratic. Some farms 7-8 miles away had a crucial July rain that saved their crops. Hell- some of them are getting bumper crops just 15 miles away.

The wetlands are drying up. There is 50 feet of dry pond bottom at the place the kids and I used to put in the canoe. The picture below is the slough at the corner of our section. That pond is completely dried up- the duck nesting house standing in cracked mud.

And we pretty much got skunked with the garden in 2012. Mike fell on April 13 and by the time he was on his feet it was too late to plant. And yet.... and yet. We are experiencing great abundance of produce thanks to good, caring and kind neighbors. I'm spending all day today putting up a cornucopia of tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini, squash, onions, green and yellow bean, peppers, this 12# head of cabbage. Deb, Bruce, Dorothy, Dianne, Simon and Jo and all of you who have dropped off veggies for us this year-- thank you for sharing your summer's labor with us. We hope to return the favor for years to come.

And so in parting, this summer has seen a scarcity of rain and abundance of neighborliness and produce.

And it somehow fits with the goodness I saw in town yesterday. The Red Cross blood mobile spent a few short hours in our little town of 400 people yesterday afternoon. About 10% of the town's population showed up to give blood- the farmers, truckers, teacher, mom, post master, carpenter, and senior citizens. We've lost so many people from this town and county. And yet.... and yet- here they all are on a nice late summer day, giving back, giving generously, giving from the heart (and vein).

Bliss and Adventure in Big Stone County, Minnesota

Cross my heart. Hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye. Plus a pinkie promise that the kids could spend 5 Wednesday nights this summer roller skating at the Sioux Historic ballroom located on Big Stone Lake north of Ortonville. Truth is... I love to roller skate so it's nothing but fun.

There ain't nothing, people, like going into a dark ballroom filled with kids, loud music spanning 60 years from last week to 1952, and strapping on a pair of skates for a few hours. The whole world narrow down to this one great place and time. I make the boys hold my hand for the couple skate.

But last night I was in need of a little time to myself. So I walked the few feet over to the Lakewood Lodge. This is a great and beautiful place right on the lake- with a great patio and a dock to moor the pontoons that come down the lake for a good meal and nice drink. I found myself with a nice, pink drink in my hand. Blissfully looking at the pelican rookery and sun reflecting on the water. Complete peace and calm as the sun set to the west over the lake. Ahhhhhh.

And then it was time to herd the boys to the car (the girl is at Farmer's Union camp) and head the 18 miles back home. A lovely night with a half moon in the sky, thunderheads lit up by lightening in the dark sky. We begged the clouds to rain on our farm, but they were too far east.

I turned onto the last gravel road to our house and had to slam on the brakes, sliding in the gravel, as I came face to face with large, lumbering, grayish animals. I stopped within feet of them and was actually sputteringly dumbstruck. I didn't know what those animals were. .........................................................

What's right about this place

It's good for the soul to practice being grateful for what we have. Some days that is easier than others. But living near Clinton, MN gives me many opportunities to enjoy the gifts of family, community, and plain old fashioned fun. 

Like dancing a polka on mainstreet on my way with my kids to the grocery store. 
Most days of the week there's an interesting sound track playing from the outdoor stereo system on the old bank (compliments of and to Dave). Some days I'll just stop in my tracks as a haunting old Johnny Cash song plays on. Yesterday, it was a great set of polka.  
The people here invest in the children- as a whole more than any one individual. Maybe that's the way it is all over. But it is so very clear how much all of these kids mean to the community. They close the streets for a kiddie parade.

Note to self: don't polka while recording video

The firemen set up the hoses and on a hot summer day and the kids get to play in the middle of the street for an afternoon of summertime fun.

Followed by a root beer float chaser and a carnival put on by the Civic Club.

And then it is Fair time. With 4-H stands and animal barns. And a tractor pull for the younger kids. For some seriously wonderful pictures of kids at the fair, click here to see Becky Red Barn's professional photos of the Big Stone County Fair. A must see.

If you let yourself, it's like falling in love over and over again. Small places are a blessing... a rooted foundation of much that is good in the world and life. I didn't know that's what I'd be giving my children when we moved here. Mike remembers the frustration of getting in trouble in town at the end of the school day and his mother already waiting angrily at home when the bus pulled up--someone having called to rat him out in those few miles of bus ride. So it can go both ways- the embrace and the sanction. For the time being, I'll just hang with the embrace.

C4's Soaking it up

Photo credit: A.K.D. Jorgenson Corn field on our farm (can you see my hands sticking out of the corn? I'm standing on tip toes)

Corn is growing achingly, head spinning fast. Three weeks ago you could see the soil between the rows and today it's a dense bursting 6 feet high of green leaves. Rain at just the right time and a heat index approaching 105 degrees (with a forecast of 115 degrees this week) has unleashed all the evolutionary power of this C4 photosynthesizing plant. Corn oh corn! Your C4 photosynthetic abilities putting other plants to shame on these lush, hot wet days. Biomass? You want biomass? I'll give you biomass. Take a walk into that field- cutting through the dripping wet, hot air as you part the stalks of corn. You don't see corn like this every day or even every year. But 2012 has been good for those corn fields in Big Stone County that missed the hail storm two weeks ago. Farming is a tricky business. But every once in a while the storms, stars, heat index, soil temp and moisture align so that the crops grow with a vigor that you might dream about, but would be afraid to hope for.


So for today that corn is stretching to the blue sky and the mounting thunderheads to the east. Tomorrow, however, we're gonna need some more rain.

In case you want to know more about C4 plants- here's the campiest rap video ever made

The First Cutting

First hay cutting on this farm in over 20 years
Today marked the first cutting of hay on our farm in over 20 years. Our farm followed the irresistible trend of corn and soybean (and sometimes corn on corn) rotation that most farmers have moved into over the past 40 years. I admit I'm proud to have that piece of land into a perennial planting of oats, alfalfa and volunteer tillage radishes. With a bit more rain (yes, we're dry here) and tender care, this will be our organic forage crop for the next few years.

And I'll apologize to Troy, straight up, for getting in his way while helping us hay by walking out there to take pictures with kids and dog in tow. We nearly lost our dog Happy to that hay cutter. Would have been nobody's damn fault but my own. A working farm is a dangerous place. You think I would have learned that already.

We're well enough respected that folks in our community can call us idiots to our faces- and a couple have. "Really? You're taking farmland this valuable and putting it into hay?" Well, yes. Mike knows, as does his father and uncles, and his grandfather before that, that this soil needs some alfalfa to 'mellow' it. Plus, with a growing herd of cattle, we don't want to be dependent on buying feed or hay.


The farm is taking shape, even with being set back the better part of year by Mike's accident. A year ago, we rolled the dice and planted corn late in the season. We lost the gamble. The corn didn't mature and we had to plow it under for green manure/mulch. Then we planted that whole field to tillage radish--a new cover crop that sends down deep, thick taproot to break up hard pans (a compacted layer of soil from using tractors and such) and serves as a kind of deep tillage device to break up the soil. We need that here with our heavy clay soils. This year a lot of the tillage radish came up in our hay field and provided a cover of lovely white flowers to the field.

Tillage radishes (late 2011) this cold hardy cover crop was the greenest thing in the county up until January 2012
And we've been observing our farm and animals- their natures and response to our practices. Take those Dexter cattle, for example. We watched them grow from the time they were born to now. They thrive on the grass and their summer coats shine up with that first flush of green grass. We (and by 'we' I mean Mike who is the day to day, hour by hour observer on the farm) find that the low-line Angus take longer to sleek up in the spring, but they are catching up with the Dexters a couple months into the grazing season. Time will tell. And taste.

We're out of ground bison (from our friends Rod and Mary) and so will have to butcher our first grassfed steers- born on our farm on a fine May day in 2010 the day after arriving here. Their names are Trouble and Bill. They'll be going by trailer to the Pioneer meat market in Ortonville in the coming days. Once we're assured of the quality of the meat, we may have some sell. That will be a nice milestone on this farming journey- from birth to sale of our first grassfed beef.

In other parts of the farm, the wetland is being 'installed' starting July 1, with heavy equipment coming in to move earth. We have fencing bids coming in to lay down 18,000 feet of fence on the farm--over 3 miles worth-- and are working with the US Fish and Wildlife Service on grazing the adjacent prairie land (next year). About 150 acres are in conventional corn and soybeans (total farm acreage is 320). So 2012 marks the first year that more than half the farm is in either organic crop production or pasture and wetland.

The garden is one casualty of Mike's accident and so this year will be scant on our own produce. Some of our perennial beds are doing fine- it's been all you can eat asparagus for the past month. The strawberries, however, fell victim to quack grass.


It is still a grand adventure as we move into and through this fifth growing season on the farm. And I'm guessing more than one farmer out there would agree, that there is nothing like the look and the smell of that first cut of hay to fill ones heart with a sense of the goodness of farming.

On Farm Accidents

"Glad you planted spuds before you try falling off the roof. Boy you did it up good. Our well wishes." (one of my favorite Get Well notes)

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.


Thank you for working the fields, feeding the cattle, hauling chicken feed, patching the coop. Thank you for relighting the wood boiler and filling it up anonymously. Thank you for your prayers, hotdishes, cookies, bars, and rolls. Thank you for the loads of laundry washed, dried and folded and for the loving care of our kids. Thanks to my boss and colleagues at the U for support and reminders of the priorities of life. Thank you for the cards and the kindnesses you've shown. They are sustaining and encouraging us. It is a blessing you know--this day and those around us. For these gifts, Let us be truly grateful. 

Wind: For Business and Pleasure

Turbine and Kite

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.


Tonight's forecast is summed up in one word "WINDY."

Everyday Heroes: Behind the Scenes Business Bring Food to Small Towns

Many of us take for granted the invisible food system that keeps the shelves stocked in our local grocery stores. In fact, many small towns take for granted that they will have a local grocery store until that store is in jeopardy or disappears off of Main Street altogether. Recently, the United States Department of Agriculture released a map of "food deserts" in the United States. A rural place is labeled as a food desert when it is more than 10 miles to the largest "supermarket or large grocery." All of Big Stone County, with the exception of the City of Ortonville, is labeled a food desert. Here we are in the heart of farm country and yet considered a food desert.


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.
There is much more that can be said about providing safe, healthy food for rural area in America. A lot of effort, organization, and business acumen plays out every day in keeping Main Street small town grocery stores open. Mason Brothers is a welcomed part of that food system for which small town grocers, like Bonnie Carlson, are grateful. Maybe you'll look differently at the circular that came with today's Northern Star Newspaper and notice the Mason Brothers name and logo on the lower right hand side. I know that I will.