Sandhill Farm

This morning I answered a questionnaire about voluntary simplicity that a student in France sent to Sandhill asking for volunteers to respond (even though the questions were not simple to answer). I liked the questions, and thought I'd share my answers, making the work I did composing responses do double duty by serving as today's blog entry as well.

1. One can define "voluntary simplicity" as follows: a preference for country life; a desire for maximum personal self-reliance and creative leisure; a certain hostility toward luxury; a belief that the primary reward of work should be well-being rather than money; and a taste for the plain and the functional. To what extent do you identify with this? And to what extent do you live a simple life?

I don’t think voluntary simplicity implies an agrarian life, though it may well imply a slower, more deliberate one, and that, of course, is typically associated more with rural lifestyles. I don’t link voluntary simplicity with self-reliance or hostility toward luxury, either. I am drawn to the association with creative leisure though, in the sense that one who espouses voluntary simplicity needs to find happiness independent of the accumulation of money or possessions. Better for me though, would be a creative way to find joy and inspiration in everyday things; I prefer the approach of blurring the distinction between work and play. I am drawn, in part, to living in intentional community because of the leveraging possible around accessing resources (through sharing) instead of accumulating the money needed to buy them.

I live a life of voluntary simplicity in that I have little money or possessions in my name, yet believe I lead a life rich in opportunities and experiences. One of the secrets to leading a happy life is to be able to find joy in many things.

Three days ago, on Easter Sunday, Ma'ikwe lost the northwest quadrant of her roof in a thunderstorm. It was pretty wild.

The storm came up suddenly from the west (which is always where they come from) and when the rain hit, it blew open the door on that side of the house, because the strike plate was mounted a little high and the bolt doesn't quite catch. In the fierce wind, it took both Ma'ikwe and Kay (her mother visiting from Jackson MI) to push the door shut against the driving sheets of horizontal rain. In the chaotic moment, amidst the freight train howl of the wind, the two women were wholly focused on protecting the kitchen and Ma'ikwe's bed from getting soaked and no one realized for a time that the wind had been working on the roof as well as the door... that is, until Duncan (a neighbor boy visiting Ma'ikwe's son Jibran) said he thought he heard a noise up above while the women were wrestling with Zephyrus on the ground level. When Ma'ikwe glanced out her south window to investigate, she was gobsmacked by the vision of several of her roof panels roosting in a tree 75 yards downwind.

A Good Place to Be in a Storm
By the time Ma'ikwe got through to me by phone (I was at Sandhill, three miles away, when the storm hit and our phone was tied up with a community member on a conference call) and I was able to get over to Dancing Rabbit (not knowing how bad the damage was or how many buildings had been affected), it was immediately relieving and heart warming to see at least 15 neighbors swarming around the house removing stray screws and nails, placing temporary tarps over the hole in the roof (which saved the ceiling drywall), gathering up the errant roofing, and giving Ma'ikwe consoling hugs in unlimited quantities.

Today is my stepson 13th birthday. While Jibran grew up detesting that his April Fools birthday provided everyone with a ready-made joke at his expense, he nonetheless woke up this morning officially a teenager. While I'm not sure this is much a deal to him, my wife, Ma'ikwe, has been leaking traces of anxiety about what the teenage years will bring.

Both of my kids—Ceilee (29) and Jo (22) went through this particular gate long ago, and while there was a certain amount of distancing from Dad's eyes and Mom's skirts (not that Ma'ikwe ever wears them, but you know what I mean) in and around this milepost, I don't look for Jibran to be rebellious in the Lord-of-the-Flies manner that is the heart of a mother's nightmares. He's a thoughtful, creative kid who's taste for autonomy matches well with Ma'ikwe's laissez faire parental style. (What's to rebel against?)

Jibran has been homeschooled most of his life (there were brief stints in a series of charter schools in Albuquerque, but none of them seemed to hold his interest), and it wasn't until this year that he's really gotten into the self-discipline of learning. Under the tutelage of Sharon Bagatell at Dancing Rabbit (his and Ma'ikwe's home) he and two other peers are thriving. Some of the other kids at DR go to public school; still others are going free lance, or "unschooled" in loose association with their parents. DR is nothing if not a poster child for educational eclecticism. The trick, of course, is finding what degree of structure and peer association works best for each kid.

Part of my work as a process consultant is out-of-town firefighting. In the small but intense world of intentional communities, if a group catches on fire and can't put it out on their own, I'm one the people who might get a call. It's a specialty that requires both that you understand the fluid dynamics of group conflagration, and the ability to not wilt in the heat of the moment. It takes a certain combination of savvy, groundedness, and improvisational chutzpah which I'm crazy enough to embrace.

While it's only a piece of my work as a consultant, some of my most precious memories are the work I've done with groups in crisis. While you're never happy that people are in struggle, you're glad for the chance to ease the pain, and offer a helping hand.

After being in this line of work for more than two decades, there's a steady stream of inquiries that reach my ears concerning hot issues (as opposed to requests for trainings or for non-crisis facilitating—both of which I also do), and they tend to fall into one of three categories, all of which occur in roughly equal proportions:

A) Groups who have recognized that they need help, have hired me, and have subsequently gotten their fire under control (whew!).

B) Groups who have recognized that they need help, but could not agreed to hire me—either because the prior work I've done with that group drew mixed reviews, or because they've never seen me before and are having trouble imagining how someone from rural Missouri could possibly be worth the $1200/day I tell clients I'm worth.

C) Groups that have not yet recognized that they need help (despite the fact the people in and around the group have already pulled the fire alarm).

There were 44 of us at the Third Organic Beekeeping Conference in Oracle AZ March 5-7, 2010. These conferences were begun and organized by Dee Lusby, an organic beekeeper, a researcher (www.beesource.com) and an early proponent of organic = no treatment beekeeping. I’d discovered this movement 8 years ago, was fascinated, and implemented some of the management techniques; I quickly discovered it was more complicated than I’d expected. I had also wanted to attend one of the earlier conferences but AZ was far away. This time I was already in AZ for an advanced organic inspector training; further, I contacted Arthur Harvey of Maine to see if he was going. Arthur is an organic inspector and has one of the very few certified organic bee/honey operations in the country. Arthur informed that he’d been to the first 2 conferences and was not planning to go; however, if I went, he would come as well. He had been trying to get folks at the conference to enter discussions on establishing standards for organic beekeeping in the US.

March 5

Arthur & I attend the morning session at the Advanced Organic Inspector Training – it’s about Organic Apiculture, the first time it’s offered here (partially due to the USDA’s National Organic Program now in the process of formulating organic apiculture standards). After the session, we drive 2 hours north to the Organic Beekeeping Conference at a YMCA camp way out in the desert near Oracle AZ. I’m looking forward to meeting the legendary Dee Lusby.

Eating locally grown food is now popular – at Sandhill, we’ve been doing it for 35 plus years. One of the challenges is not having fresh salad greens during the long winter months. This is the first winter our green house has been fully operational and we have been having fresh salads through the winter.

A few days ago we were comparing our favorite greens. We realized that we usually mix all the greens together and then add a dressing – making it difficult  to distinguish the individual tastes. We decide to do it differently: Emily harvested the greens, kept them separate, and labeled each group (the little pieces of paper in photo): arugula, sanposai, tatsoi, mizuna, spinach, perpetual spinach, golden chard, beet greens, winter cress, chinese savoy, and romaine lettuce. We stood around the table and tasted each separately – what a feast! (Immediately behind the greens are jars of alfalfa sprouts, pickled peppers, fermented carrots & garlic, and salsa.

I discussed soil fertility in the past – see the entry on growing green manure crops.

As I indicated earlier, the basis of our fertility program is growing green manure crops and recycling nutrients – compost, crop residues, etc. We grow a lot of green manure crops and I feel like it should be enough to maintain fertility to grow our crops; however, I see signs that our efforts fall short. The most obvious sign is that whenever I spread manure on fields, the crops respond dramatically – ie. they grow taller and are much greener, and in short, much more robust. This indicates to me that our crops would like/appreciate more soil fertility.

We do not have animals on the farm – other than our laying chickens, turkeys, and pets, which produce little manure. Organic certification standards prohibit us using humanure.  Sometimes, we purchase some fertility amendments – mostly trace minerals such as zinc, boron, sulfates, and very occasionally, potassium and calcium.

We are fortunate in that a friend of mine who works for the town, which is our county seat – Memphis MO, makes compost from the city’s leaves, grass (lawn) clippings,  dirt, and a little cattle manure. He also maintains huge wood chip piles: both fresh (great for paths and mulching berry plants) and aged, which look like compost and I spread on fields for organic matter. Roy began making compost several decades ago – mostly because he wanted to keep all the leaves and grass clippings from being land filled.

Almost half of our 135 acre farm is in woods – we like it that way. A few benefits of having our own woods/forest:

* they provide us with firewood

* we harvest logs to be sawed into lumber for our construction needs

* they are good habitat for wildlife (including deer – currently, our primary source of meat)

* they are a carbon sink – offsetting global warming

* they nurture the spirit/soul – winter time is my favorite time to be in the woods: walking, skiing, cutting firewood. The woods feel like a sanctuary (comparable to church/temple for some) to me – it’s where I feel connected to nature, the universe – my spirit feels nurtured.

It feels appropriate for us to heat with wood: currently, we heat two residences, a common house/kitchen, and a green house. That’s a lot of fires to keep feeding; on these sub zero nights, we burn a lot of wood; additionally, we use wood to cook down our sorghum and maple syrup. How much wood? I don’t know – I’m not in the mindset of thinking in terms of cords, etc. Of course, there is the old adage: firewood warms you twice: when you cut & split it and when you burn it. We like the cozyness of wood stoves – coming in from the outside, it feels so good to toast myself in front of the wood stove.

Our farm is a commune: ie, we own everything together and share all our income and expenses. We are a small group: 5 adults and a 13 year old – she spends a lot of time at school. Over our 35 year history, we have generally had 3-12 members; however, we are usually a larger group – we have friends/family as well as community visitors, and during the growing season, have 3-6 interns. Having interns here and being open to visitors, including group tours, is part of our vision/mission of teaching people about how to live more sustainably and grow & preserve our own food. We strive to demonstrate how to accomplish this on a small scale and believe that growing your own food and eating locally is a political/economic statement – to foster communities having control of their own food supply and economic security in the face of multi-national corporations controlling all aspects of our lives.

We are often asked “how do you few you get all this work done?” The answer is that we have a lot of help – our sorghum harvest/operation is an excellent example:  3 weeks ago, there were 20-25 of us harvesting and processing our sorghum crop – there was a labor exchange group from Twin Oaks, a friend from East Wind (both communities are in the Federation of Egalitarian Communities), interns, ex-interns, and visitors. It truly feels like a harvest celebration – many hands make light work. There is an amazing feeling that comes with a group of people working on a common project. It reinforces our commitment to working together and living in community.

Contrast: today, I am on the farm by myself. Interns and visitors have left, 2 members are off on a hiking trip, 2 others are off on business – different directions – leaving me, 3 dogs, 5 cats, twenty some chickens and 4 turkeys. This seems such a contrast to the traditional/average family farm – where the human population does not vary much.

OUCH! that’s a downer – who wants to know or talk about crop failures? well, ok, I can hear about them – as long as they are someone’s else’s failures. It’s hard for me to admit to failure. Some time back, I wrote about our problems/failure with tempeh production – it was interesting that several folks responded with suggestions – it appeared inconceivable to them that this “problem” could not be solved. We were there too – but after 9 months, we conceded defeat (in the short term – we still believe that we will figger it out eventually!).

So what am I talking about? what crop failure?

1. first & foremost: honey. In the last 25 years we have not harvested less than 100 gallons of honey in any year – the record was 410 gallons, the last few years, average 110 gal; this year – 22 gallons. THAT SUCKS – big time.

why the poor year? once again, i’m mystified. Sure, I can point to various factors:

swarming – seems like our bees just would not quit swarming this year; in fact, we had another swarm this week.

weather – cool & rainy; bees do best with the opposite – hot & dry.

But, somehow, it does not add up, because both of the above factors were also present last year, and we harvested 100 gallons.

2. dried beans – for our own eating: black beans, pinto beans, & red beans. At this time of year, they are usually 3? tall and/or sprawling in between the rows and covering the ground. This year – some are 8? tall, appear puny & stunted; others are 15? now. The deer have been browsing on them freely and keeping them short – but this looks stunted, not just short. So why? too much rain, not enough sun, always theories – but it seems there were other years when we had similar conditions, and still had a good crop….?

I do note that the beans I replanted (the pintos and red beans) are doing much better; this year, later planting are more vigorous.

It’s swarming season again! I wrote about why and how bees swarm a year ago. This year – it’s in the photos:

Photo #1:  a small swarm perfectly positioned:  perfect for the beekeeper/swarm catcher – it’s close to the ground – no having to balance a box on a ladder, etc.  Here I am admiring the bees with my lovely assistants and assuring the bees that I have honorable intentions – to provide a furnished home for them. What is inside the mass of bees? more bees – some hang on to the branch, others hang on to them, and others hang ….. etc. somewhere in the center is the queen.

Photo 2: the bee box is in position to receive the swarm – a quick vigorous shake of the branch to dislodge the bees – they gradually crawl inside on   the frames of beeswax foundation. what? you didn’t see the shake? “the hand is quicker than the eye.”

Photo 3:  ah! the satisfied look on the beekeeper’s face (me).

thanks to neighbors, Pete & Staci,  for calling us and offering us the swarm and thanks to Staci for the photos.

Wow! it’s been 6 weeks since my last post – many things have changed, some not.

It looks like a different world out my window: spring has matured into the abundance  of summer – it’s amazing how much plants grow with plenty of moisture. Our cool weather crops, especially the greens and brassicas are loving it. What has not changed is that we continue to have lots of rain – so much that it is challenging to get garden and farm work done.

In the gardens, we can keep up. We have raised beds and/or heavily mulched paths so that we can plant, weed, and harvest – unless the soil is really wet. We are harvesting leafy greens, asparagus, and now, strawberries. With 4 interns, visitors, and members, we get a lot done and the place is looking quite spiffy.

It’s a different story in our fields. In the last six weeks, we have had about 6 days when we could work the fields – this is the season to plant our annual spring crops. We’ve been in a pattern where it almost dries out – just before it rains again. About 10 days ago, we had about 3 days in the fields, in which we worked down green manure crops and also managed to transplant about 1.5 acres of sorghum. We had another 3 days in the fields a few days ago and transplanted the other 1.5 acres of sorghum, and planted popcorn, field corn (for cornmeal), pinto beans, black beans, yellow & brown mustard, and tillage radishes (to harvest the seed). Whew!

We had 2? of rain yesterday – I feel lucky we got our field crops planted. We had less to plant this year:  less sorghum because we have not been selling as much, and we have not had access to about a third of our fields due to the creek washing out a bridge. The county has been working on replacing it but have been hampered by the weather as well. Hopefully, they will get it done before wheat harvest in early July.

Spring is an enchanting time of year: a time of beginnings & awakening, verdant shoots of green grass, sprightly wild flowers,  multi-colored flowering fruit trees, sap is rising, people falling in love, and so many beauteous things. For me, it is all of those – and also one of the most stressful times of the year. How so?

Spring: “sap is rising” is a common expression – my energy is up too: I wake up at 5:30, coffee, yogurt & toast, some quiet time, and then I’m ready to GO! Except that it’s cold & rainy out – not fair! Nature is geared up & my motor is revved up – with no place to go! I guess I could go fishing, repair farm equipment – but, in the rain?

THIS IS THE HARD PART – WAITING. Many think that the challenging part of farming & gardening is the work – well yes, it is a lot of work – but at least, when I am working, I feel good/productive. I can work long hours and my body aches – and it feels so good compared to “chomping at the bit” (a reference to bygone days when we worked with horses: they were ready to go and we held them back with the bit in the bridle…).

Rain – there is nothing as comforting as the sound & smell of rain when we really need it – I wake up in the night and hear the pitter-patter on the rood and ah! all is right with the world. BUT -  it is equally discouraging when we have too much. Folklore around here says you should always welcome rain – if you don’t, you’ll be looking for it soon. I know I should be thankful for the rain but by the 4th week of it – I’m ready to scream & do an anti-rain dance.

Failure. Ouch! We don’t like to use that word to describe our endeavors or any facet of our lives. In New Age lingo we prefer things like: missed possibilities, unfortunate circumstances, unplanned learning opportunities, new challenges, etc.

What failure?  Sandhill’s tempeh business. In our 35 years on the land here, we have experimented with various crops and products to earn income: (beginning with highest total income) sorghum syrup, honey, mustard, horseradish, condiments (salsa, relish, etc), seeds, and occasionally, fresh vegetables & fruit. For the last five years, tempeh was in the #2 spot. What happened?

First: what is tempeh? It is a cultured soybean product – originally from Indonesia. Some call it a meat substitute due to it’s high protein levels – so it is popular with vegetarians. We make it by from soybeans that we grow on the farm: the beans are cracked in half, soaked, and then boiled until soft (but not mushy), cooled and inoculated with rhizopus oligosporus (a spore, which we buy). The inoculated beans are put in one-half pound ziplock bags, flattened (like a hamburger patty), and placed in racks inside of a homemade box that maintains it at 90 – 100 degrees F for about 24 hours. During this time, the spores develop and grow throughout the soybeans making them more digestible for humans (like yogurt is to milk). We then freeze it and sell it  frozen. There are many ways to prepare it: marinate it in soy sauce, herbs & spices, or simply fry, bake, broil, etc. Tempeh ruben sandwiches are popular in restaurants.

Now that I have your attention, I trust you won’t be disappointed.

The heading could suggest soil/dirt/fertility/etc. BUT what I have in mind is what could be considered the down side of country/rural living. Huh? Again, the possibilities are myriad:  isolation(cultural/technological), having to drive distances for services or to see friends; however, my topic here is CAFOs – Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations – aka “factory farms”. Yikes – there’s a heavy subject…

I moved to Sandhill in 1980 – I’d never heard of cafo and as far as I know, neither had anyone else in this county of 5000. Today cafos are a hot topic in many rural areas – due to the evolution of current American agriculture – others have written about it, notably Michael Pollen, Wendell Berry, etc.

Back to my story:  I’d been aware of cafos for 10-15 years, but it became personal 7 months ago when we heard that our county commissioners had rescinded our local health ordinance – so what’s the big deal? We find out that a local health ordinance is the only way residents in Missouri can establish more restrictive regulations on cafos because the DNR (Department of Natural Resources) under a Republican administration is anything but what the name would indicate. So – why did the commissioners rescind the health ordinance? Apparently, the ordinance has been in place for 4 years because some of our neighbors convinced the commissioners we needed it. They rescinded it last September because they felt pressured by both pro and anti cafo proponents. In response, some of us become alarmed and spontaneously form a group to get a health ordinance reinstated. My partner, Gigi, is very active and becomes the focal person in a leaderless group, which has been holding public meetings to educate folks on the health, environmental, and social effects of cafos. We have also been meeting with the commissioners to reinstate a new ordinance.

My friend Donald, a pagan witch, oft refers to “the mysterious ones”; in my paradigm, the reference is to the spirits or gods/goddesses that are in nature and daily life. Although I can’t see them, I sense their presences around me. I like the “mysterious” part because that is how I experience various non physical forces/energies.

So what does this have to do with agriculture? When I plant a seed, I have a picture of what the plant will look like – BUT no idea if it will be sickly or vigorous,  whether the return/yield will be zero or a hundredfold. It  depends on weather, genetics, soil fertility, care, etc – and yet, to me, the sum of these factors does not account for the variation in the vigor of plants and their yield. I prefer to ascribe the difference to – the “mysterious ones”.

Example:  our  maple harvest. We have been tapping maple trees at Sandhill for 21 years now. During 2002 – 08, the number of trees we tapped/harvested remained constant and everything that we earthlings did was the same. The return/yield varied from 30 to 115 quarts of syrup. Why the difference? Supposedly, it all depends on the weather:  ideal weather is when the nights are below freezing and the days are above freezing. I have not attempted to correlate the ideal temperature factor with maple yields – but my impression is that there is NOT a direct correlation – leaving certain amount of variation as:  mysterious.

We had our first ever maple sugaring/syrup open house on March 7, 2009. The photo on the left with Renay sucking on the tube connected to a tap in the maple tree headlined our invite. You can see 2 blue tubes attached to taps in the maple tree – this was the first stop on our open house tour.

When we mailed out our invitations, we hoped for good weather; a few days before the scheduled open house, the forecast was for 80% chances for rain – bummer! Miraculously, the rain held off.

The photo is of our shitake logs which are close to sugar shack (where we boil the sap) and so on our tour folks see them and want to know all about them. The spots on the logs are where we drilled holes, packed in spawn (shitake spores mixed with sawdust) and then sealed with our own beeswax.

The photo on the left shows the maple sap cooking in the pan in the foreground – see the steam off to the left? The smiling faces are students from Truman University in Kirksville (about 35 miles from us) -who came for the open house. I am the 3rd person from left – trying to blend in with the younger crowd.

This is the time of year for farming conferences – I go to the organic ones. On Feb 21, I attend the annual Missouri Organic Association’s conference.  I have been the vice president for the past two years and in charge of the trade show(so I had to be there – but I always go anyway). The following weekend, several friends and I went to a 2 day Upper Midwest Organic Farming conference in LaCrosse WI.

The two are typical: there are similarities as well as differences. The primary difference is the size: we had about a hundred folks at the local MOA one while there were over 2600 registered at the LaCrosse one. The local one is cozy – most of us know each other and the feeling is like a gathering of the clan. The larger one feels more like being a part of a movement; most of the year, us organic folx feel like a minority – we are constantly talking about why organic is important, how to source and/or produce organic products, etc. Often we producers are alone or one of a handful of organic producers in our county. At the conference, I am one of 2600 (that’s more than half of the population of my entire county!). The feeling is different – we are significant, we are the movers/shakers in agriculture – rah!rah!rah!

The topics of the workshops are similar: basic soil biology & fertility, organic weed and pest control, livestock production and health, fruit and vegetable production, small grains,  row crops,  organic certification, various marketing strategies – local/niche, web-based, tell your personal story, etc., sustainable practices, biological diversity, funding opportunities in the new farm program, etc.

This post does not fall into the agricultural theme, but then life is seamless, right? One thing leads to another… This is one example of what some of us farmers do in the off season.

I completed a 10 day Vipassana meditation course in Northern Illinois Jan 14-25, 09.

Why did I go?

• for about 10 years now, I’ve had friends do these. Everyone indicated they had a good experience and it was well worth it (it’s free!).
• I have a lot of negativity in me – most of the time I repress it – but it’s wearisome. I realize that the real victim of the negativity is me. I’ve tried a variety of methods to root it out/come to terms with it; many helped – but it’s still there. I’d love to get rid of it. So – I’ll try this!

For more info:

See the Vipassana website: http://www.dhamma.org

My fellow communard, Laird, did the same course 2 weeks before me and blogged about it (Jan 8-15) – access it via: www.sandhillfarm.org

The cast: 40 students, 20 men, 20 women, an on site teacher, a liaison person for women, another for men, and several folx who prepare the meals – 2 for women, 2 for men.

The course is taught by Goenka (India), who claims that the method originated with Gautama, the Buddha, 2500 years ago and that the key is the technique – it is experiential (rather than intellectual knowledge).

Disclaimer:  I speak only for myself.

Short answer:  kick back, relax, and recharge (we put out a lot of energy in the growing season; like the earth & plants, winter is a time to draw inside, slow down, and let things be).

Details:  one of my priorities is recreation – ice skating, cross country skiing, reading, walking in the woods. When there is good ice to skate or snow to ski – better do it now because in these parts, it’s not to be taken for granted – it could melt, get snowed on, etc, in short, outdoor recreation comes first. In the photo below, we had plenty of ice, but it was quite warm; since we could not skate, we rode our bicycles on the ice on the pond.

Of course, there is work: cutting firewood, cooking, keeping up with housework & maintenance, stoking fires, etc. We heat all our buildings with food fires: 2 residences, a common house (kitchen, office), a green house, and a workshop – so we burn a lot of wood (and then there’s the wood to process sorghum & maple syrup). Also,  people travel during the winter to see family & friends, but the buildings need to be kept warm to keep water pipes and/or plants from freezing.

There are plenty of maintenance jobs: keeping buildings weather proofed, building bee boxes, plumbing repairs, etc. Items that may not come readily to mind:  planning next year’s crops – including seeds, cleaning some of last year’s seeds, making tempeh & mustard, market research,  etc.