Exploring Minneapolis

Cousin Carol - Hostess with the Mostess!

Last weekend, I indulged in quick road trip to Minneapolis - a 6-7 hour drive, straight south, turning left at Fargo. Back in June, I had bought a ticket to see comedian Louis CK, because I happily buy anything he’s selling. I knew I’d be needing an urban break right about now and Louis is a brilliant writer and performer. I was right, this was much needed - a rare case of foresight.

Minneapolis Convention Center, awaiting The Master.

(Louis also goes out of his way to make things cheap and easy for the fans, even arranging his entire 45-city tour to circumvent the evil Ticketmasters of the world. Tix were a straight $45, every seat, every venue, every city, no extra charges.)

Photo by Flowizm

Lucky for me, my cousin, Carol, lives in the City of Lakes so I have a lovely place to stay - fancy plumbing and everything. (She is the daughter of Walter, my 92-year-old cousin.) Carol is the best hostess, always planning meals around my organic/local/veggie inclinations, and offering up show tickets. This time, I brought her a haul of Scranch produce (watermelon, squash, tomatoes, pumpkin) so I’m hoping she got a sense of my gratitude, beyond my stating it again and again.

I love a good corner.

Mississippi River from the Guthrie's Amber Room.

On Saturday, she took me down to their incredible Farmer’s Market, right next to the beautiful Guthrie Theater (behind Carol, above) and alongside the Mississippi River. It was a beautiful, chilly day. After spending a season on other side of the table, I now explore Farmer’s Markets with a new appreciation for all the work and care that went in to the gorgeous produce. I saw at least one head of broccoli that made me want to cry, it was so perfect. I marked the day by purchasing a hand-knitted hat (lined with fleece, no less) from Barn Swallow Garden - I love it!

Edible garden boxes downtown - super cool.

The market is held partly outside and inside a section of the Old Mill Factory, a beautiful building that is half art gallery, half ancient ruins. Most of the factory was destroyed in a deadly flour dust explosion in 1878 (killing 18 people) and they left it, as is. I didn't realize that innocent flour could be so explosive but this summer, I've been learning about the lethal potential of grain dust. One small spark and BOOM! Known as the Great Mill Disaster, it reduced the city's milling capabilities by a third.

The building included a moving installation called “The Bridge” which documented the survivors of the horrific bridge collapse in 2007 that killed 13 people. The entire place reminded me that every city, every town, every village has its own tragedies, woven into its history, often making it stronger as the community has to pull together to survive.

Explosion remants

Carol treated me to a delicious brunch at Spoonriver, right alongside the market and theater. We were shown to our table by the owner, Brenda Lee Langton, an inspiring agent for organic and local food in Minneapolis. I had an market-special omelette packed with savory fresh produce from the vendors next door. Carol had some fancy French Toast made with coconut milk, rosewater and cardamom. We finished up with some chocolate and pistachio cream puffs. Ah, city food!

"One of each, please."

Minneapolis is a city I could live in, no problem. First, they have the best public radio station I’ve ever heard and no shortage of art galleries, theaters, book stores and world class restaurants. I noted a concerted support of bicycles and public transportation and an eclectic mix of old and new architecture.

The winters, I’m sure, are brutal but then again, they don’t have to deal with the dreaded migration of Californians, something that is complained about wherever I go - like a rash that spreads the country. (I can only stand there sheepishly, when hearing this complaint.)

The Mary Tyler Moore statue, downtown.

I'd requested that we check out the Walker Art Center with it's accompanying sculpture garden next door and Carol obliged. The gallery was a fun space with many ponderous pieces - some incredible, some ridiculous and nearly all, thought-provoking. There was even an exhibit that encouraged people to take a piece of it home. (It was a poster of a b/w photo and I did.) Photography was encouraged, which is rather unusual for a gallery, so, I grabbed a few shots:

Wall-sized, um, necklace

I loved these

Eyeball wallpaper near the bathrooms

Cra-ZEE eyes watching as you head to the loo...

But the sculpture garden was amazing - truly delightful. It began with a small courtyard framed in stone benches, each one engraved with a thought. Of course, you naturally expect some beautiful bits of poetry, parables or deep life wisdoms but that would be soooooo predictable. These benches had a lot to say about everything else:

Like I said, random.

But the rest of the sculpture garden was equally fun - not huge but just big enough to ask yourself, "What's a giant spoon and cherry doing in the woods?"

In fact, the spoon/cherry duo is pretty famous in Minneapolis and I can see why - it's looks amazing from any angle.

And then, I caught this beautiful man smiling ear to ear - he was watching his children play - and I couldn't help stealing a shot....

...then he turned his head and GAVE ME SOME SUGAR!

Thus, giving me my favorite shot of the entire trip. God, I love strangers, they're my favorite. Other sculpture garden shots:

Carol also took me to see an incredibly funny (and totally necessary) sketch comedy show called The Rainbow Election ("Mommies and Mormons and Gays, Oh MY!") at the Brave New Workshop comedy theater downtown. It was a hoot. Honestly, the sketches were hysterical and spot on with neither the Dems or Repubs coming out clean - mud was expertly flung in every direction.

In the lobby.

Lordy, they did a whole bit on hoodies - how a normal citizen can become a criminal just by flipping up their hoodie, especially if they are African-American. Like any good satire, it was dead on. The dudes playing Obama and Romney (Andy Hilbrands and Bobby Gardner, respectively) really worked overtime. My favorite quote from the show:

"There are 7.5 million gay people in America but only 6 million Mormons. That means, statistically speaking, it's 25% less weird to be gay than it is to be Mormon."

Even the urinal in the woman's bathroom had something funny to say:

So yeah, Minneapolis - I dig it. They even have 80s-themed bachelorette parties here - what more do you need?

Oh yeah, you need a whole room made of yellow tinted glass, and a baby:


Thanks for showing me the town, Carol! Back to the farm I go...

Corn Harvest

One of the things I’ll miss most about living here on the farm is receiving texts like these from Brent:

“We are going in corn if you want to come down”

“Okay. Where?”

“My field. East of fife place” 

In addition to my own organic experiment, Brent knows that my reasons for coming here include learning about industrial agriculture so he’s very thoughtful about pulling me in to a harvest scenario, when possible. Unless I am really slammed with work (which is rare, I’m not that important), I drop everything, hop in the pick-up, and run over immediately.

This text was sent near the end of September and I was, once again, anxious to see the harvest from a combine viewpoint. I parked next to the field, maneuvered across the spikey hazard of cut corn and scrambled up into the John Deere cab to watch a farmer work and pepper him (Brent, Mark or Wayne) with questions while photographing every element.

Brent loads corn into the grain truck. 

Rolling the tarp across the load...

...to keep corn off the highway!

This series of photos shows Mark Newell - who kindly let me sit in the "instructor's seat" (ironic, no?) - using the combine's computer to determine where he is at the harvest process, the status of the field and an endless breakdown of the corn, right down to the moisture content. It's really quite incredible.

I’m always amazed by the efficiency of the heavy, wildly expensive farming machinery and the precision of computerized combines. Even more than that, I marvel at the synchronized team work of these farmers who have worked alongside one another for a lifetime. Though they communicate cab-to-cab via CB, everybody always seems to know what they are supposed to be doing and what is going to happen next without too much discussion. Unless there is a mad race to beat bad weather, harvest is mostly a low drama, highly-synchronized affair.

While Mark is running the combine - a massive John Deere that chews through a field like a hungry green monster - Brent is standing by with a smaller tractor that is pulling a grain loader. Once Mark's machine begins to fill up with corn, Brent pulls alongside with the loader, carefully lining up just so. Mark then swings out the auger (the long green tube on the side) and passes his load of corn off to Brent. All of this is done without anyone stopping, like passing the corn baton.

Then, Brent takes the corn load, swings out his auger, and dumps that load of corn into a waiting grain truck. That truck will then be driven to one of the farmer-owned grain bins (we have several here on the farm, already full) where the corn will be stored until it's time for it to be taken to the grain elevator, where it is sold to market.

Brent, pulling alongside Mark, with the loader.

“Farming” as Brent likes to say, “is more than just a profession, it’s something that’s in your blood.” 

Surely, there is a viral element at work here; even with my limited experience, I have caught a whiff of this truth. I don't know if it's all that rigorous outdoor doin’s, working with the seasons or genuinely creating something big from something little but it feels like a real job.

When Mark (one of Brent’s farming partners and my cousin) admitted, “Sometimes things get a little boring in the combine here with the auto-steer", I couldn’t help but recall the many client reports and useless 'perception rating' Excel spreadsheets I had put hours of my life into - hours I wasn't getting back.  I responded:

“I can honestly confirm to you that this view beats a cubicle view any day of the week.” 

He laughed, and over the roar of the harvest, replied, "Yep. I bet you're right." 

End of Season Thoughts

Autumn is a painfully short season here, it seems. Though the trees shimmered with gold this past week, it's cold and rainy today with a snow forecast tomorrow.

Of course, this means I have to pack up and leave - winterize the Mae Flower, disconnect from the sewer and pray to God that she fits in the shed. It also means that I have go through all my belongings and pack what I’ll need for my winter in Colorado, New Mexico, California and Mississippi. Much will be determined by what will fit in my pick-up. Hoooo boy.

I have mixed feelings about leaving, dreading and looking forward. Though I'm anxious to see friends and family and get re-aquainted with First World plumbing, I will miss being outside so much, watching the sunset every night and seeing billions of stars so clearly.

With the garden mostly dead, there isn’t much for me to do around here. (Though I’m still harvesting spinach, parsnips and carrots.) Tomorrow's Farmer’s Market is cancelled due to snow, which is sad. I felt like I was just hitting my stride as a produce vendor, and the people were just starting to get used to my strange humor. ("Lotta dollar bills there - are you a stripper?") 

The SCRANCH market table.

Miles - Everything he makes is incredible.

However, I did celebrate a milestone this morning: Via Facebook, I had my first pre-order delivery of produce. I met a woman at her son's school in nearby Neche (about 10 miles east) to deliver her order of Moon & Stars watermelon, two dessert squashes, bunch of Yellow Pear tomatoes, several large red tomatoes and a heap of fresh spinach. This all took place about a block or two from where my mother was born - sweet, sentimental victory!

I'm now investigating how exactly to plant the garlic bulbs (soak 'em in seaweed juice first) but for the most part, my day-to-day work is done - I feel a little lost. I’m left with half a dozen watermelons, at least 20 dessert squash, buckets of tomatoes and seemingly thousands of Yellow Pear tomatoes; I have to find a home or function for all my babies - trying to eat as much as I can every day.

Everything here, I grew.

And even though my popcorn crop was mostly a bust (drought + inexperience = disaster), there are enough glistening black cobs that I was able to test out the popping. Alas, when I tried to pop them last night, it was no go. I think maybe I didn't dry them long enough after removing from the cob. Not sure.

Of course, I will miss the land but not the wind. I’ll miss certain people (especially Brent, Evelyn and Eldean) but not the lack of a social life. At this writing, I haven’t seen a soul in two days, save for Powerful Pierre yesterday morning, who yelled at me from his pick-up as I was jogging down the dirt road, “Faster, faster!”

Cosmic carrots

Mind you, I know how to entertain myself better than anyone I know. The most ineffective way to entice me in to doing something is to to say, "If you ever get bored, you should...." Let me be really clear about this: I'M NEVER BORED. Never, ever. But, socially, I worry about myself in the long run. What if I forget how to articulate? Start to repress? Lose my comic timing that has served me so well? Such are my thoughts.

I love the people of North Dakota, they are as nice as they day is long, as they say. But they do not like discussing their feelings. Honestly, it's almost British. I come from a narcissistic land of endless self-expression and back-to-back therapy sessions. I can do repression but it doesn't sit well.

You know it's bad when you decide to let moths stay in the camper, just for company. (They are so flustered and neurotic, I can't help but relate.)

Even as I was driving to Langdon (82 miles, round-trip) to get my specialized “SCRANCH” NoDak license plates for the pick-up, I was trying to figure out how I could make my dreams work here without being such a freakish loner.

Road to the DMV where there is no waiting.

No ideas yet, but we'll see what the winter brings.