Bearing Fruit (or What I Did on My Summer Vacation)

Our first apple- a Honey Crisp- from our fledgling orchard. And multiple tooth fairy visits as my 'iddle boys get bigger

Amidst the fleeting days of all you can eat corn on the cob (corn cut off the cob for those missing front teeth) and hot, happy hours of putting up all the corn a family of 5 can eat in a year. My helpmate and partner in life didn't realize how appropriate his attire was for the job.

One Freezer Full. 2011 harvest filled up one of our two deep freezers. There are also jars of apricot jam, apricot chutney, pickled beets, tomato sauces, and more in the pantry. This year I did it a bit different... I made a bunch of meals from the harvests and froze the meals instead of the individual ingredients. I.e. tomato sauce and eggplant went into trays of Eggplant Parmesan, green peppers made into stuffed peppers, lasagna, Leek and Potato Soup, and Kale/Lentil Stew. I have about 70 pounds of cabbage in the entryway and a husband who has to leave the house if I even open a can of sauerkraut -- (mores the pity for a German raised person of Scandanavian descent like myself- from the days of cross cultural adoptions)

And having a pause in life to enjoy the fruits of a breakfast that can be counted in "food footsteps" rather than "food miles." I.e. all the ingredients were within walking distance of my kitchen.

On our way to the grand Cottonwood tree on the north side of our farm fields. My eager boys running ahead down what I hope will become a grassed waterway in the seasons to come. My next entry is how my children take me places I would have never ever gone without them. Blessings each one.

We did get one productive project up and running. About 120 feet up and running whenever the wind is greater than 6 mph-- which is always. Our neighbor to the north is pure Greater Minnesotan Farm Man with a Work Ethic to make you quake. He has 2 little kids, farms (I've seen him taking his toddler in a pink ballerina outfit into his combine), has a full time job, and a runs a business on the side. He came down to the farm, looked at the turbine and said "Well... I'd be afraid to get one of those. I'd be too tempted to just lay around drinking beer and watching it make $$ for me."

More than anything on this vacation (where I almost never left the farm) I needed to retreat from the world.

The boys left me sleeping in the cool grass, with a good book when I awoke. I was reading Hamlets Blackberry: Building a Good Life in the Digital Age. My retreat was nearly complete from the digital as well as real world crowds. Hence the long absence from my blog.

Next entry... lessons from an Early Killing Frost and other Earthy Tales

An Ode to My Grandmother and Her Farm

Eddie Anderson Farm, Big Stone County- circa 1982 (when I googled "beautiful small farmstead photo" this picture came onto my screen from Big Stone County)

It was brought to my attention that I may not have painted a full picture of my Grandmother's farm with my last entry. I'd like to correct that.
My grandma's and grandpa's farm was set on 80 acres in SE Minnesota. It was a picture perfect view of farming in the early to mid 20th century on the prairie. The small, neat farmstead always seemed freshly whitewashed and in excellent repair. It was a diversified farm with milk cows, pigs, chickens, duck, a huge strawberry patch, asparagus patch, garden, pasture, row crops, smokehouse (that was put up and taken down as needed). I learned how to drive a tractor on that farm- an Allis-Chalmers-- keeping what seemed like a big, green yard mowed. There were white wooden grain bins and even an orderly pile of miscellaneous parts and pulleys where I could spend endless hours "inventing."

My grandmother inherited this farm from her father, John Kording, who was, from all accounts, an outstanding prairie populist who helped out his neighbors and had a hand in organizing farmers into what is today Minnesota's Democratic Farmer-Labor (DFL) party. He left his land equally to his sons and his daughters 100 years ago, which says something.

Grandma learned Latin in a country school house and had read all the classics in Latin by the time she was 20. She taught in a country school until she married and became a full time mother and farmer. Grandma was well versed in politics and her cork board always had a recent article up that highlighted some aspect of the news.

Grandma's house was filled with heavy home made quilts, brewing coffee, frying bacon, a daily newspaper, and WCCO radio. It was a good, solid place to be. I was privileged to sew my silk wedding dress with my grandma, mom and aunt in grandma's dining room just 17 years ago.
My grandmother worked hard on her farm. I wrote an earlier post called Suffer No Illusions about how on a prairie farm, there were no illusions about women being "weak." It referred to my grandma and her basketball career. So, if during the peak of summer, after an evening of milking cows there were flies in the kitchen over a meal that came 100% from your own farm and effort, then I see that as a badge of honor.


My desire to farm came from what I saw and experienced on my grandmother's farm. Simply a good life of hard and handi-work, family, church, and active mind.

The Flies

My collection of fly swatters. The blue one is definitely the best.

When we first moved to the farm, nearly 4 years ago now(!), it was early fall. One of the first things I did was to throw away all the nasty fly swatters that were hanging in the entry way near the kitchen. Who would want those filthy things in their home? Ewwwww.

I found out why the following summer. Farms have flies. Lots of flies.

Last week I was sitting in my comfortable St. Paul campus office enjoying my lunch and a latte at my desk. I was working on the computer, taking an occasional sip of coffee and slowly eating my lunch. But something was out of place-- something nagging the back of my mind. I felt uncomfortable. I finally put my finger on what was wrong. I wasn't constantly waving my hand over my food and drink. It was the absence of flies on my coffee cup and threatening my food.

I am hopeful each year that we do a home repair that THIS will finally take care of the fly problem "New windows and screens will stop those flies from getting in!" Nope. "That new roof will put a dent in the number of flies!" Nope.

Exasperated, I asked Mike if the flies had always been this bad. "No" he said, "they used to be worse." He remembers spending an hour after dinner swatting flies, killing 3-5 per swat. The farm was an active dairy farm then, so his memory is probably correct.

I have this short childhood memory etched in my mind. Sitting in my grandma Alvina's kitchen in the late evening (after milking cows), a bare, dim yellow lightbulb hanging from ceiling, and the room just filled with flies everywhere. But 15 years of living in the City and one can completely forget that flies even exist at all. Likewise with mosquitoes compliments of Metro Mosquito control.

I've been quite good at killing flies. Killed two with one blow this morning. Got some ooh's and aah's from the kids and I believe I even took a bow. I've often thought that there should be Olympic events for the things in life that really matter-- like Olympic baby diaper changing (having had 4 babies- I often fantasized about the crowd going wild over my fast, but gentle diaper changing abilities). Likewise, my fly swatting skills are a matter of pride. Getting the correct angle and aim, the flick of the wrist, the trajectory of their falls so they don't land in our food, etc....

We recently painted every room inside in the house-- lovely yellows, chartreuse, sage green, brick red, Mediterranean blue, and in the main level- shades of nut browns. I picked the colors with an eye towards what would show the least amount of fly specks (a.k.a. poop).

I think I paint an idyllic picture of farm life most of the time. So good to introduce those small, uncomfortable bits of reality. And while we have flies in the house nearly every week of the year, but it's only this bad for a few weeks at summer's peak and that is right now.

Big Stone Bounty

Blueberries grown by Koopman farms, Milbank SD. Frankly, the best tasting blueberries I've had since I lived in Silver Bay during the year of bumper crop wild blueberries


It is the peak of local foods luxury in Minnesota. Everything is bursting forth... at last. The harvest is rolling in. Thanks to Izzi who offered up the bounties of her apricot trees in Clinton, I've been able put up apricot jam and apricot chutney using my own ad lib recipe which turned out great (apricots, dates, raisins, garam masala, sugar, and onions). Last night's dinner (below) was Wild Rice (MN lake harvested) hotdish with carrots and our own chicken. Accompanied by the fresh Koopman blueberries, sliced green peppers, and local red wine. A perfect meal for a cooler August evening.
 
Easy summertime meal... local wine, wild rice hotdish with our own chicken, carrots, and ground flour, and fresh sliced green peppers

And then I had the adventure of buying my first piece of farm equipment at the auction on a neighboring farm. It was the first ever auction at this farm that had been in the same family since this land was settled. Jiggs was a good man who cared for his farm until his dying days in his 90's. He made sure, even from the nursing home, that the buildings were painted and the lawn mowed. He'd fed the deer for many years and they still congregated at his farm waiting for him, even a couple years after he'd moved to the nursing home.
Chances are his parents were immigrants... making him a second generation American. There's what I think is the original house on the farmstead-- a small, tall, thin wooden house. It sits behind the more modern 1950's rambler where Jiggs and Marge lived out their lives.

So, at that auction, I had the thrill of holding up my white numbered card, surrounded by a crowd of a hundred and bid on my hearts desire. There was only one thing on the auction bill that I really wanted. If your a farmer, look at the picture below and see if you remember this piece of farm machinery.

Fanning Mill, circa 1900, used to separate the wheat from the chaff (and the weed seeds)
I bought myself a Fanning Mill. Originally hand cranked, Jiggs or his dad rigged this one up with an electric motor and it still works. This is a beauty, with all the screens for the different crops. I wanted this for my wheat and edible beans. Right now, I wait until a windy day to separate the wheat from the chaff to grind it for flour. Likewise with my beans, I hand picked through them to get out the little clods of dirt and the dried bits of bean pods.
This mill was proudly made in Minneapolis and attention was paid to make it look beautiful.

Here's how it went... The auctioneer came over with his microphone and started calling for opening bids. When he got down to $25 I put up my card. He scanned the crowed yelling "25-30-25-30-25-30." Then he went 'whose gonna give me 30-35-30-35-35-35." Well, since he'd skipped 30, and the way he was gesturing, I thought someone had bid 30 and so I held up my card for $35. Then we kept going and the same thing with 40-45-40-45-45-45-45" So I raised my card again. At this point the auctioneer stopped the auction. As it turns out. I was the only bidder and had bid myself up from $25 to $45. So we started all over again, and much to the amusement of the hot, overall wearing crowd. "Oh come on!!" said the auctioneer "I just sold one of these last week for $140."

I got my Fanning Mill for $25.


Pretty darn proud of myself for scoring this lovely equipment for my local foods dreams and ventures. Thanks Jiggs for taking such good care of it for all these years. I'm lifting a glass to you tonight sir!

On Elephants and Agrarian Populism

A mighty fine day at the end of the Age of Abundance


The Circus came to town on Tuesday-an honest to goodness professional circus. It was the first time, to the best of the town people's considerable knowledge, that a circus had set up the Big Top in Clinton, Minnesota. As far as I know, it is the first time that elephants and a zebu spent the night in Big Stone County. Maybe an elephant or two had passed through the county in the past, but it was remarkable to be standing in the rural prairie with elephants. Don't get me started on their cousins the mammoths (which I miss).

It started as a day like any other. I woke up early on my farm-- a place on the edge of wild. A rough place of fields, flies, weeds, and animals. I took the kids to town to see the Big Top go up- rumor had it that the elephants would be part of the work crew. There was a crowd of people, not all of them with kids in tow.

The two performances that day, as I heard it, were the best of local entertainment. They were brought to this corner of the earth by expensive gas and a poor economy that makes a hamlet like ours (and the next down the road) both viable and appealing to this family owned Circus and their business model.

From the circus I went to the local branch of our State's land-grant University where I was able to stand shoulder to shoulder with boiler engineers, farmers, students, professors and other people who hold their heads up high without a single doubt that they belong exactly where they are. The inscription on Northrup Hall reads:

The University of Minnesota
Founded in the Faith that Men are Enobled by Understanding
Dedicated to the Advancement of Learning and the Search for Truth
Devoted to the Instruction of Youth and the Welfare of the State
And for that one night it was true. We were enobled... to the person. We were there for a common purpose (clean energy, sustainable food systems, clean water) though approached from many perspectives. We were treated to some of the finest foods I've ever tasted (all locally raised meat and produce), good homespun local music, and the best of people. In the glow of it all, I earnestly loved each and every one of them.

In some ways, Tuesday August 2nd, 2011 was the remaining shadow of the pinnacle of the Age of Abundance-- a time when public universities educated everyone, when we could afford to take risks with resources to see what innovations would emerge, a time, frankly, when the seeds of a Minnesota miracle could take root and grow.

One should savor every moment of the waning Age of Abundance. As I drove home from UM Morris the orange sliver of a new moon pierced the red and purple horizon and around me were pelicans, geese, fox, a turtle, and frogs to dodge on the road.
But do not despair at the end of this Age-- because it brings things to us that we might not otherwise have, like elephants in Big Stone County. Proof in point: On one single day in very rural America, a woman can go from her rustic farm to seeing elephants to being enobled and inspired at a public university.
And I'll leave you with these words from a Wall Street Journal article titled "The End of the Age of Abundance"

"Dynamism has been leached from our system for now, but not from the human brain or heart. Just as our political regeneration will happen locally, in counties and states that learn how to control themselves and demonstrate how to govern effectively in a time of limits, so will our economic regeneration. That will begin in someone's garage, somebody's kitchen, [somebody's farm- kjd notes]... The comeback will be from the ground up and will start with innovation. No one trusts big anymore. In the future everything will be local. That's where the magic will be. And no amount of pessimism will stop it once it starts."

Kicking the Can -- 2030 A Book Review

Well well well. Minnesota's political leadership is boldly kicking the can down the road. "A historic day" as the news is saying, to basically not deal with any of the complex issue that need to be faced.

What really steams me, is that this is Minnesota. We've enjoyed a high quality of life, great education system, and a pretty decent bunch of people at about the same social class. I was raised to believe that you are not the sum of your net worth. Minnesotan didn't flaunt their wealth or put the rich on a pedestal. It seems that we've become so materialistic. It was ingrained in me that the rich aren't better than anyone else. Being rich doesn't mean you worked harder (re: Paris Hilton), or are better education (again PH- a highschool dropout), or have any particular blessing from God.

So what? Does everyone want so badly to be in the top 2% of wealthy that they have begun to see themselves in the top 2% of the wealthy? So much so that they (we) can't bear the thought of taxing them. What do people think-- that if they tax today's top 2% that they'll one day be the taxing themselves, their kids, their grandkids? Enough already. Our nation's political leaders are bound up with the wealthiest people and corporation who support their campaigns.

In terms of state spending and revenue. Be tough-- tough with spending and tough with taxing. Make it work people. I'm sick of the can being kicked down the road. Which leads me to the book review I wrote yesterday and submitted to the Star Trib. Don't know if they'll publish it. So here it is.
Also-- especially in light of today's news, READ 2030. It is one hell of a book.

Book Review
Twenty Thirty: The Real Story of What Happens to America
By: Albert Brooks
Albert Brooks' book takes on current issues that leaves many of us glassy eyed, but manages to create a riveting story of where America could be heading. In 2030: The Real Story of What Happens to America, Brooks fleshes out some of today's most critical social issues and through believable characters and story lines that show us where we could be in a mere 19 years unless we begin to act like grown ups in the face of our so-called "new normal."

Brooks' first novel takes current trend of increasingly health care costs, the gap between the rich and poor, a crushing national debt, and demographic shifts towards an aging American population out to the year 2030. Characteristic of his larger body of work, he does so with humor, intelligence, and heart.

2030 imagines the lives of some average and not so average Americans in a period when America has ceased to be the empire that it is today. Characters such as angry disenfranchise youth, the AARP (the most powerful group in America) leadership, and a young woman whose pain comes from seeing the fall of her father from a middle class blue collar worker to being chronically underemployed and impoverished. The President of the United States appears in this novel with a sense of humor and real sense of what is right for the country. This character, more than others, seems to voice Brooks' own wry sense of humor and provides ballast for what could still be put right in the world

Reading this novel, I waited with President Bernstein to see how the American people would poll over giving China the rights to a major American city. "People wanted it done quickly, and at a low price, and that was the way it was going to be. It started with cars, went to food and clothing, and now it was the very places they were going to live and work. Resistance was not just futile, it was gone."

Brooks paints a picture of a world in which health care is miraculous, expensive, and out of reach for many. One main premise is the unintended consequences of finding a cure for cancer, which extended life for older Americans but places an even greater burden on younger generations to fulfill the social obligation of health care and retirement for older generations.


Brooks has succeeded in creating an artful and engaging scenario of the not so distance future that takes the reader from today's contentious civic discourse to the resulting dystopic future, should we persist upon our current path. 2030 is one of the more creative and, frankly, seemingly plausible of the increasingly popular genre of futuristic dystopic novels. Brookes immerses himself in building a plausible future and doesn't shy away from difficult and even controversial issues. He takes on such topics as the burden of entitlements on younger generation, and the impact of today's 'kicking the can down the road' approach to those issues, such as national debt and access to health care. We would do well to take heed of Brooks' message and work backwards from 2030 to today in order to create a more equitable and prosperous future.

You who are weary...

Sample congregation from England (photo from BBC's Faith Place)
Matthew 11:28

The Message (MSG)

28-30"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me--watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."

I was asked to fill in for Minister Bev when she took a vacation the first part of July. I didn't know that would mean writing a sermon. It would have been easier if I had been given an agricultural passage, but the "Ye who are weary and heavy burdened" text turned out to be just the thing I needed to think about.

SERMON-- July 3, 2011

When Rick asked me to help with this service, I thought it would be like when the Minister goes to the Synod assembly and they provide me with a sermon. So a couple Sundays ago when I asked Rick who I should get the sermon from and he said "well- you prepare it" I thought that he was joking. But he wasn't kidding and he handed me the readings and the gospel lesson for today's service.

(Click on Continue reading, below, to see the rest of the sermon)

Today's readings include some of the most comforting and uplifting passages from the Bible. The Psalm verse that many of us know as part of our liturgy "The Lord is gracious and full of compassion, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love." 
And the gentle gospel invitation from Jesus of "Come to me, all you that are weary and heavy burdened and I will give you rest."

It's quite a gift to spend time reflecting on these passages and to form my own untutored thoughts to share with you. A couple things: 1) my husband reminds me that I'm much better at being earnest than being funny and 2) I'm a soil scientist by training and so my theological credentials are suspect, to say the least.

And so that first Sunday evening that I had today's lessons in my hands I began to reflect on those beautiful and comforting words that Jesus gave to us "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." I thought about those words in between getting the kids bathed and ready for bed, gathering up the dirty laundry, setting my alarm clock for 4am so that I could drive to Brainerd the next morning for an 8 am meeting. It even crossed my mind that I might be the wrong person to reflect and share on these verses.

Then I saw God's hand at work in the coin toss with Rick that landed me with this scripture on this Sunday morning. And so I'm grateful that I was blessed to spend time meditating on these verses.

This gospel lesson seems to have three parts to it, at first reading they seem almost unrelated. It opens with Jesus chiding his critics, then in the middle saying how God has revealed himself to the infants and not to the wise and intelligent, and then just when you think that Jesus could lay in some really biting words to his detractors, he takes an entirely different track and we get that comforting and sweet passage where our gentle and humble in heart Lord offers us rest.

The gospel lesson starts off with Jesus sounding rather fed up, frankly, with criticism. He says "John (the Baptist) came neither eating nor drinking, and they say 'He has a demon'; the Son of Man came eating and drinking and they say 'Look, a glutton and drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners." When I read that I hear exasperation along the lines of "can't win for losin'." No matter which way the messenger came- eating or not eating- condemning sinners or consorting with them they were found at fault. Jesus refers to them as bickering children in the marketplace.

Amazing how people are the same 2,000 years later. It's so easy to bicker and criticize and to find fault without the burden to put things right. Part of the human condition is to have minds that can be prone to rumination. We spend so much time dwelling on the past--thinking of past wrongs, grief and heart aches, the things we have done and things we have left undone. Or else our mind is occupied with the future--wondering how we will handle a certain situation or deal with problem person.

I'll give you an example, my boss at the University put me in a national leadership training that I just recently finished. At our first meeting in Indianapolis, Indiana, we received this fancy bound notebook along with a fancy pen. I was so excited. We were finally going to learn - once and for all--how to deal with those problem people in our workplaces. The facilitators had us open our leather bound books and write on the first line, of the first page.

"I, Kathy, am somebody's difficult person."

We were told that we needed to remember this 'pledge' throughout our training and beyond.

And taking a lesson from Paul's self chastising letter to the Romans shows--not only are we other people's "difficult person." We can be that difficult and critical person to ourselves.

Just take a look at the 2nd reading from Paul's letter to the Romans. 90% of that text is full of anguish and self criticism to the point of self hatred. Paul says "I do the very thing that I hate" "that sin dwells within me" and "I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin... Wretched man that I am."

Now, I'm not saying that self-chastising doesn't have its role. How else do we learn not to make mistake that harm ourselves and others.

But it is the burden of being thought filled people whose minds can go to harsh and critical places. Those hard words and thoughts directed towards others and to ourselves.

The rest that Jesus is offering is rest for the soul and by extension rest from our troubling and criticizing mind. I think Jesus is even offering rest from over intellectualizing. In the middle part of this gospel lesson Jesus says that God has "hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and revealed them to infants." What does a baby have that adults don't? What has God revealed to them? What is it that our precious babes have that God shows to them and not to the wise? For one thing, babies aren't ruminating on their own wrongs, filled with self-hatred, or picking fault with others. Babies aren't turning the facts over and over in their minds. Replaying past conversations, action, attributing motives and wondering where they went wrong. Babies are content just to be. A comfortable, clean, fed baby is pure of mind and able to just live in the present moment, without the burden of an active and critical mind.

Having had 4 sweet little lovies of my own- it is striking how a comfortable baby can relax. We've all heard the phrase "sleeping like a baby." Many of us have had the pleasure of watching the peace of sleeping baby. Their every breathe shows their complete relaxation. How they breathe with their whole abdomen, with their whole bodies. As adults we learn to sit up straight and sometime forgot to take those deep, soul filling breathes.

When we brought our middle daughter, Milly Rose, home from the hospital where she had been in the Neonatal intensive care unit for 5 days after she was born, she was curled up in a tight little ball. We could barely unwind her to get her into her carseat. All the lights, noise, bells, and alarms of the NICU had been too much for her newborn senses. Within minutes of being in our quiet comfortable home, with a doting big sister, and two caring and loving parents she unfolded like a flower. Mike and I could see her whole body relaxing minute by minute until she was spread out on her blankie, peaceful and relaxed.

Just like Milly had the relief of being in a comforting and loving home, so can we move from the outside world of tumult and conflict and from our inner life of ruminations and cares into the presence of our God who is, in the words of the Psalm "gracious and full of compassion, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love." Isn't that exactly the gift that God is offering us in this lesson? Offering us rest--rest for our souls and rest our minds from the cares of the world, relief from the ruminations of our minds, the criticisms, self loathing, regret from the past and fears for the future. We can take up the yoke offered by our Lord and Savior who says "learn from me. I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls."
Oh sweet rest. Not a rest from being busy or working hard, but a rest for our souls amidst being busy. As a mom, employee, boss, farm wife I know busyness. There are seasons of life and seasons of the year that are busy- as farmers and gardeners know. And these verses were written when farming and growing food was all manual and animal labor. And this text includes a familiar animal powered farming metaphor in the words "my yoke is easy and my burden is light." The path, especially for those early Christians was difficult and dangerous. John the Baptist met a brutal end and some of the early apostles were martyred. That is certainly not the easy path.
But the rest that Jesus invites us to in these verses, is not the rest from being busy or from hard work. It's not even rest from being persecuted.

So what is this promised rest? What is God calling us to do in the gospel lesson? There are so many layers to this message. I think that God is calling us to accept the gift of a restful mind. The gift of forgiveness that we may let go of our regrets and mistakes and our grudges. Each week when we have the order of confession and forgive, I lean over to Alma and tell her 'this is my favorite part." We ask for forgiveness for 'what we have done and for what we have left undone.' That pretty much covers it. And for those seconds after Minister Bev says 'all your sins are forgiven' I know complete peace. Asked for and given complete forgiveness.

The heavy burdens that we can give to Jesus are the burdens of a thinking mind. Our thinking minds can be so bickering and critical--to ourselves and others. Jesus invites us to have rest from those thoughts. To know the peace --like a baby-- who can rest completely in the present moment and know the peace of a quiet mind.