My Un-Education

Hwy 55, last week

Already, this season, I've learned one big lesson: There will be no learning this season.

Rarely have I seen Brent flustered and unsure but today, I did. Thanks to all the late-season rain and consequent floods, farmers are stuck between a muddy rock and an economic hard place.

Seeds still in packet - sigh

A few days ago, Brent explained to me a common farming formula, which is, that every day after May 10 that you don't have seeds in the ground, the farmer can plan to lose 1/2-3/4 bushels a day. Furthermore, the deeper in to the season a farmer waits to plant, the more he is penalized on his crop insurance. (Though I am still learning about what this means, I believe the cut-off date is June 10.)

Right now, every farmer in the region is walking around with a spinning mind, asking himself, "Do I dig up and replant? Wait until after this rain passes? Will it be too late?" and the bigger question, "Is the 2013 season going to be a total washout?" The latter is the scariest question of all - no crop means no income and again, the damage to one's crop insurance with regards to annual averages. Talk about taking a long-term gamble - hoo boy....

Sitting on the mower today, Brent sounded nervous. "I'm not sure what to wish for, more rain - which is due late next week - or hot and dry," he said. "Either way, it ain't going to be easy." 

Nearby "field"

And then Brent, a man who has been farming nearly all of his 56 years, said something that was so strange and bizarre, it made perfect sense to me:

"After doing this year after year, the only thing you learn is that no two years are the same. You're learning but you're not really learning. Every year is starting from scratch."

He painted a grim picture that was suddenly clear. Though one may gain experience, anecdotes and a body of knowledge each year, Mama Nature shakes that big Etch-a-Sketch in the sky and it begins anew. While the older generation continues to compare everything to a big storm in 1950, Brent's generation still refers to 1997 as a measurement. Looks like 2013 will register in there too, somewhere.  Basically, we're all a bunch of hairless meatballs running around on a blue marble trying (and mostly failing) to make sense of it all - liberating and depressing all at once.

All this makes me wonder what I could possibly learn in my own tiny effort at growing food here. Right now, I guess, I'm learning to wait and it is not easy.

Though my garlic and shallots planted last fall survived nicely under all the straw mulch, they still need more sun and heat. In my uneducated opinion, my square section of earth looks healthy and ready for seeds but Brent tells me it is too soon. I kick the dirt and see he is right - though a chalky, white crust has formed on top, it is still dark and moist below.

After uncovering the garlic - photo by Kirk, who helped!

I also see random weeds and quackgrass already trying to take over and we agree that it could use one more run with a cultivator. "If we do it now, you'll get nothing but mud balls," says Brent.

Strange that I planned it so well to get here early and now I'm just waiting around, feeling anxious. One thing I've learned, I understand why country folks talk about the weather so much.

Last week, in the nearby town of Leroy

Heh.

Limits of the Sky

Today was my first full day back at Second Chance Ranch this season. Though I rushed to get here, it’s been a slow start as I am still waiting for the soil to dry out so I can plant. We (Kirk and I) practically had to swim our way here….

***

Somewhere outside Valentine, Nebraska, we stopped at a gas station to pee. In the ladies room, I noted a big scale – the kind you put a quarter into for your weight, lucky lotto numbers and fortune. I couldn’t resist.

My weight was an astonishing number that I will not be sharing here. (After months of Mama Iva’s delicious cooking, generous meals of my various hosts and urban culinary indulgences, I have gotten (ahem) fluffier. I take some comfort in the knowledge that a summer of manual labor will inevitably melt some – but not all – of my hard-earned fat.  The rest will have come off through something called “sheer will power”, which sounds curious.)

I then ignored my lucky lotto numbers and waited for my fortune. Finally, it came:

THE SKY’S THE LIMIT!

Positive, right? Hopeful, no?

Alas, my fortune turned out to be a weather warning of the most literal kind. Over the next few days, the sky poured water on the region in torrential fashion. 

Approaching the farm.

 And it didn’t stop.

Rain seemed to splash down harder with each passing hour – big, fat, mean drops - which meant I could not plant. It also meant that the farmers couldn’t plant, and those that had were screwed because now their seed would flood and/or rot.  

With Brent (who had planted 500 acres already), we cruised the area, taking note of all the fields that were now lakes. Though I was disappointed that Kirk would have to leave before we could plant (he’d come along to help, again), I said nothing. In comparison to the real farmers, my problem was a mere inconvenience, not a sharp loss.

“Well,” I reasoned to my mother over the phone, “I wanted to know what it felt like to be a farmer and this is a taste of it. Weather can rearrange the best of plans.” 

Flooded field on right.

And for the nearby town of Cavalier (where I get my mail, water, groceries, gas, booze, etc.), it was about to get worse. The town of 1300 is under mandatory evacuation due to it being downstream of the Renwick Dam. There is such a surplus of water coming toward the dam, city officials fear it won’t be able to hold the volume. All citizens found lodging elsewhere, except for about 4 people, who refused to leave.

Of course, one of those four is Brent, SCRANCH hero and the ultimate guy-who-knows-a-guy. (When I arrived last Sunday, he already had the Mae Flower parked in her spot with the sewer hooked up, battery charged, propane filled – she was ready to go.) Brent’s not the kind of guy to run and hide, he’s more of a go-down-with-the-ship fellow. 

Officer Adam at one blocked Cavalier entrance. 

I hear the four remaining citizens have been passing the time mowing (a common pastime in these parts), monitoring the pumps and wondering why they did not buy more beer. The Border Patrol (?) and the Sherriff Department have blocked all three city entrances and are not allowing anyone in or out. So, Brent is trapped there which has to be driving him crazy because he’s not a man who likes to sit still. 

Cavalier citizens waiting for sandbags.

Last I heard, the evacuation will be lifted tomorrow (Friday) morning. Alas, the weekend calls for more rain. 

I shot this video last Wednesday. I was coming back from taking Kirk to the airport (about 1.5 hrs. south to Grand Forks) off of I-29, traveling west on Hwy 55, and was blocked by this waterfall. The driveway you see belongs to my cousin, Wayne Newell. Had to take the long way home from there.

I Be SCRANCH-Bound

Kingman, AZ

On May 9th, I left my cozy perch at Mama Iva's house in Long Beach, bound for North Dakota - spring has swung around and it's time to farm again. After seven months of hanging in LA (give or take a few side trips to Mississippi, Costa Rica, San Francisco, Santa Barbara, Nevada City, Foster City and San Diego), I am now at the Niobrara Lodge in Valentine, NE, a small town off Hwy 83.

After leaving SoCal (Bye Mom! Bye massages! Bye In-n-Out! Bye helicopters! Bye smog!), I stayed one night in Kingman, AZ, then on to Albuquerque, where I hung for a few days with Laurianna and her wonderful boys, Wyatt (who just graduated 8th grade) and my godson, Jack, the shortest as-yet-uncredited marine biologist that I know. He's 5. Together, we went to see Iron Man 3, one of the best cared-for action sequels I've ever seen. (They are taking that character to some very human, relatable places without the suit - so smart.)

After leaving my loved ones in New Mexico, I drove to Crestone, Colorado, known as a spiritual vortex of sorts - a small community at the foothills (elev: 8,000) that is home to one of my favorite couples, Bliss (yes, that's her real name) and her husband, Nealio. (Real name Neal but I never call him that.)

Nealio and his two favorite tools.

 There, in the vortex, I was taken to a spiritual gathering where I met a beautiful poet named Istacia (sp?) and a fascinating woman named Helen, among other folks. I held a ceremony to bless my seeds and Bliss and I got slowly drunk on champagne - it was glorious.

Bliss, with a dog named, Bliss

The next morning, Bliss and I hiked to the Tashi Gomang Stupa, the stupa of "many auspicious doors, symbolizing the 84,000 paths taught by the Buddha to reach enlightenment." I'd given three seeds (from last year's bean crop) each to Bliss and I to represent whatever we are trying to manifest these days. My seeds represented Creative Strength, Home and Love. 

After an overnight stay with family in Wahpeton, ND, we will arrive at Second Chance Ranch around mid-day on Sunday, May 19th, exactly two weeks earlier than last year, which is grand. And thanks to some last-minute divine intervention, Kirk is accompanying me on this trip, thank the lord. Not only is he, once again, going to be a huge help in planting but he brought along a water pump too, which will bring me all the way into last century, technology-wise.

My favorite "scenic overlook" - off Hwy 83, over the Dismal River in NE.

It will be interesting to see just how much - if anything - I've learned since last year. Already, it's about 8,000 times less stressful knowing that I have a place to live, an electrical source, homemade sewer system and a far better understanding of what needs to be done. Last year, I was swimming in ignorance - which was liberating, actually.

I think this year is going to be a gas.

Cousin Pride

Might I brag for a moment?

In the May 1 issue of the Walhalla Mountaineer, I learned that my SCRANCH neighbor/friends/second cousins, Wayne and Mark Newell, won the 2012 Soil Conservation award! Presented by the Pembina County Soil Conservation District Board of Directors at the North Dakota Soil Conservation Convention in Bismark, the award honors farmer efforts in improving soil, water, air, plants and animals.

"Mark and Wayne Newell are 4th generation farmers, they took over the family farming operation in 1995. they have implemented strip tilling, crop rotation, nutrient and pest management as conservation practices on their farm. They also currently raise wheat, corn, soybeans and dry beans." 

In the paper, they included this photo:

And this is where I have to step in because, holy cow, they look so serious and boring here - which is not true - so I feel the need to flesh our their personalities a bit with some additional shots:

Outside my bedroom window on one of my first mornings - Mark (I think) and Brent changing a tractor tire.

This is Wayne and one of their (he and his wife, Paula) awesome dogs, Abbie, in front of "the shop" - the gigantic man cave that would make any suburban husband cry from sheer longing. In it, you can find things like this:

My weakling arm is no match.

I thought Kirk would die from joy when he saw these drill bits.

In addition to the giant wrench, Brent can also be found here daily.

Also, here's Mark Newell, ever-so-patiently explaining the technology of a modern John Deere combine to me:

Then came the day when Wayne came to my rescue. I was at the end of my mental health rope - which was frayed and coming undone - when he included me in a family 4WD outing.

Can you find the Californian in this photo?

Wayne Newell, in one of my fave shots.

Mark, Wayne and their brother-in-law, Sheldon. Great guys.

Congrats to the Newell brothers! Well deserved.

Hemp Envy

I'm bursting with pride that Colorado is - once again - confronting the Feds on their misguided, overwrought drug policies by allowing hemp to be grown legally in this country for the first time in nearly 60 years.

Image: V.H. Hammer

Hemp, one of the most useful, pest-resistant, low-water crops in existence was grown by George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and numerous other founding fathers. Truth is, hemp - an unfortunate member of the cannabis family - can be made into almost anything, except a party favor. While hemp and marijuana looks nearly identical, MJ contains 3-15% THC (the psychoactive ingredient that makes it so popular with the kids) while hemp contains less than 1%.

"Hemp is good for almost anything except getting you high: you can eat it, wear it, wash yourself with it and build your house out of it. It's strong, nutritious and naturally pest-resistant. In the United States, hemp is also illegal."

--Westword, "Green Acres", March 2013

Image: Kristen Healy

Hemp got caught up in that black hole of common sense, the War on Drugs, and was wiped from America's crop lands in the late '50s. A 1985 book by Jack Herer, "The Emperor Wears No Clothes", posits a conspiracy by greedy capitalists (DuPont, William Randolph Hearst, among others) who worried that hemp would compete with wood-pulp paper and the newly invented nylon. Herer claims they teamed up with Harry Anslinger, head of the brand new Federal Bureau of Narcotics, to pass the Marihuana Tax Act in 1937... and to include heavy hemp-growing restrictions.

Honestly, I care little about such theories of the past; all that matters is the state of things today. And change, my friends, is on the horizon.

Flash forward to 1998, when Canada legalizes hemp growth, because something about all that northern niceness lets their brains breathe a bit. It was a genius move - with a hemp-hungry neighbor to the south ($500M in sales last year), they were - and are - quite happy to exchange green for green. (By 2015, Canada predicts that industrial hemp will contribute $100M to their nation's economy.) Growing and exporting industrial hemp is also profitable for China, England, Australia, Russia and France.

Image: Idrhen

This is where North Dakota comes in. I love that this socially conservative state always puts agricultural issues front and center, above all else. When it comes to high-yield, low-maintenance in-demand crops, fair is fair and enough is enough. In 1999, the North Dakota legislature legalized the cultivation of hemp - the first state to do so since it became illegal in the 1930s.

Alas, no ND farmer has yet to plant the crop and test the Feds. (Wait, did I just dare myself?)

Meanwhile, beyond North Dakota and Colorado, other states have followed suit, including:

• Hawaii
• Kentucky
• Maine
• Maryland
• Oregon
• California
• Montana
• West Virginia
• Vermont 

No farmers have actually planted any hemp crops due to "resistance" from the DEA. What we have here, folks, is a backward reefer madness. I'm confident that the economic reality - which always wins out - will become alarmingly clear and then we can emerge from the dark ages of hemp ignorance.

Image: twicepix

 And then I can be an out-in-the-open hemp farmer without wondering if I can bring my ukulele to prison.

The 2013 Garden Plan

We brainstormed, took in measurements and I think a plan has formed: The SCRANCH 2013 Plot has (more or less) gelled. My plot is roughly 45 'x 115' with 8 square (20' x 22.5') quadrants (blocked off by stakes and string) plus two 'open ends' for the melons and squash whose viney appendages need room to grow. With the seed plan somewhat cemented, I just need to gather a few more materials, read up on "Good Bugs, Bad Bugs" and wait around for May.

I'm also hatching a plan for raspberries and blueberries, although nothing has been cultivated yet and since they tend to take over, I'd likely conduct that experiment far away from the main plot. Otherwise, the garden will grow:

• Watermelons
• Popcorn
• Herbs
• Tomatoes
• Eggplant
• Peppers
• Spinach - in constant rotation
• Carrots
• Parsnips
• Lettuce
• Peas 
• Onion
• Radish
• Squash

Also, Westword's cover story, "Green Acres" has me thinking all kinds of crazy thoughts, especially after reading this:

"After watching Canada legalize hemp in 1998, the North Dakota legislature passed a state law in 1999 to do the same; it didn't seem fair that farmers across the border could grow it and profit from it when North Dakota couldn't."

Since then, seven other states (including Colorado) have taken similar steps. However, no farmer has dared challenge the federal law that still outlaws this incredibly versatile crop (rope, clothing, food, building materials, bedding, paper, etc.). A farmer would even be hard pressed to get their hands on the seeds, which are banned here in the US. Yet another taxable industry blocked by the overzealous DEA...

When the feds finally figure out the difference between an industrial crop and a drug crop, farmers will grow it like crazy, as George Washington and Thomas Jefferson once did.

Seeds on the Brain

My trusty box o'magic.

Spring has sprung in my soul.

The calendar says that spring is less than a week away but the seeds in my brain are already starting to sprout. Looking ahead to next season, I am heavily pondering my garden strategy for “SCRANCH: Second Summer.” (Now on DVD!)  

Honestly, I can’t believe I’m going to do this again. It was so much work last year, definitely the most physically demanding thing I’ve ever done. Before the SCRANCH project, the most physically thing I’d done was tracking gorillas in Zaire, and even that was only three days.  

You’ve played Farmville? Yeah? Good. Real farming is nothing like that – it rarely involves sitting, for one thing.

Beyond the physical, the project was taxing mentally, emotionally, financially and personally. Oh yeah, and wildly geographically inconvenient; why my ancestors did not have the decency to settle in, say Sonoma or Santa Barbara, is beyond me.

But MAN, I had fun! I experienced total exhilaration at calling my own bluff and following through on a vision. The nerve of me! I make bad decisions all the time but this one was solid and it felt like something I could really stand behind. (Again, no sitting!)  

No matter what happens from here on out, I will always have that feeling of accomplishment and it is priceless. Certainly, I aim to build on the momentum to create something interesting and worthwhile, or if nothing else, entertaining. (Certainly for the NoDak locals, I’m sure.)

Since I made my lazy 3-week autumn trek from SCRANCH to Long Beach, I’ve been living a cush life, staying with mom in her spacious suburban home full of love and food. I have scads of wonderful old friends available to me socially and they all make me feel so welcome, so treasured - I often wonder just what it is I can give them in return.

I've known all these women since we were the little one's age, and we still have slumber parties.

Together, we these same friends, we've been gorging ourselves on the many, many perks of being in Southern California – paddling on the bay in January, In-in-Out Burgers everywhere, hearty games of Spot-the-C-and-D-Grade Celebrity!, endless museums and scads of incredible live music.  (StringTheory! The Wood Brothers! Warren Priske! I saw - and heard-  them all.)

 Here's Warren singing - he is an old friend of mine (younger brother of my college pal, Alicia) and he is as funny, talented and handsome as ever.

But very soon, around Mother’s Day, my life will shift to a very different scenario. Then, I will pack up my trusty Ford Ranger, reverse my trek northward and give this organic farming thing another go.

I watched a TEDx Manhattan talk the other day by environmental journalist, Simran Sethi, about seeds: “The Buried Beginnings of Food.” Her talk included chilling information such as:

·      There are 80,000 edible plant varieties in the world, though we only cultivate about 150 of them, and 95% of the world’s calories comes from just 30 species.

·      Monocropping is what killed 1 million people in Ireland’s potato famine in the mid-1800s – all it takes is one rabid pathogen.

·      In the US, half our caloric intake comes from just four crops: rice, corn, wheat and potatoes.

·      Food variety is going extinct: The Food & Agriculture Organization of the United Nations estimates that since 1900, 75% of crop varieties have disappeared.

·      Just 3 companies (Monsanto, DuPont, Syngenta) own 50% of the global seed market, including hybrids and GMOs, which cannot legally be saved or reused.

·      Just one company, Monsanto, owns 90% of the corn, soybean and cotton seeds grown in the US. In 2005, they also acquired Seminis, the world’s largest vegetable seed company.

I knew most of these things already but hearing them again reminds me why I’m doing SCRANCH, why it is my own form of protest, for my own education and also aimed at sparking conversations among others.

And like any good speech, Simran started with a catchy opener by recounting a conversation with an Italian scientist working on seed conservation. She’d told him about her pitch to a book editor, about seed conservation, how he’d discounted the premise as “not sexy.”

“In an intoxicating Italian accent, the scientist leaned in and replied, ‘Simran, seeds ARE sex.”

Simran went on to marvel that seeds are, in fact, “little sex packets” and “the beginning and ending and beginning of everything.” She's so right. I still marvel at how much information is held in each tiny seed how it knows exactly what to do and become within the right environment.

Oddly enough, I had heard the ‘plant porn’ topic the night before. While thumbing through the tantalizing Landreth’s catalogue (since 1784!), I read about the basic difference between fruits and vegetables, their sex lives:

Difference between a Vegetable and a Fruit

This is a question which we are frequently asked by correspondents, and here give the answer in a physiological sense.

A Fruit is borne subsequent to inflorescence and upon the flower stem, and is result of sexual growth, as exemplified in the case of an Apple, Tomato, Egg-Plant, Melon and Pea or Bean.

A Culinary Vegetable, on the other hand, is a portion of the plant developed under or above ground, independent of sexual results, and generally requires cooking to prepare it for food.

--from Landreth's 1884 catalog

Meanwhile, mom and I have been messing around in her front and back yards, fiddling with flowers and such. I convinced her to take on some tomato plants and herbs. Strange that she grew up on a farm but never grew food in California. She doesn’t have much farmer patience, that’s for sure: “Gosh, those seeds have been taking a long time! How long do they take?”

So, I’ve been gathering up my seeds, taking inventory, and thinking about what will grow fast, with less work and transport/storage potential. I had way too many tomato plants (maybe 25 or 30) and varieties (maybe 8) last year – too many came at once, or too late, and they were tough to save over frosts. Plus, everybody grows tomatoes so they were tougher to sell. (Except for the Yellow Pear, which look like little light bulbs. Folks had never seen those before.)

Seeds I already have:

VEGGIES

            Carrot: Atomic Red & Nantes

            Cucumber: Straight Eight

            Green Beans: Cranberry Bush* & Contender*

            Lettuce: Buttercrunch

            Onion: Valencia

            Pea: Sugar Snap

            Pepper: Sweet Chocolate

            Squash: Yellow Crookneck

            Watermelon: Moon and Stars* & Sugar Baby

HERBS

            Basil: Lemon

            Cilantro: Santo

            Parsley: Italian Flat Leaf

FLOWERS

            Poppie: Golden

*seeds harvested from last year

 And because I’m greedy and not entirely sane, here’s my seed wish list:

• Basil: Actually, I may not need to buy regular basil, it was starting to grown wild when I left….
• Dill: And time the harvest, if possible, to the end of cucumber season, when everyone is pickling.
• Eggplant: Apple Green and probably Black Beauty
• Horseradish: ??? I have no idea how that works.
• Parsnips: Sugar Hollow Crown
• Popcorn: Black Dakota, Painted Mountain & Strawberry Corn
• Radishes: Red Meat
• Squash: Uncle David’s Dessert, for sentimental reasons
• Spinach: Several kinds, I have some spinach plans brewing…
• Tomatoes: Dakota Yellow Pear, 2 more TBD
• I’m also thinking some fruit would be nice – blueberries? Raspberries? (Thing is, raspberries takeover a field…hey, maybe I could plant a giant raspberry basil-field and let everybody just grow wild. OMG!)

Also, I must have flowers. Not only do blooms brighten the place up and make it looked loved, they bring bees and, they’re PURTY! I also have some Golden Poppie seeds – specifically because it’s my home state flower (California) – and they are a tough cheery plant. I would love to honor the other states in my life so I’m going to get NoDak’s state flower, Prairie Rose, and plant those. I’d love to have Mountain Columbine, for Colorado, but I don’t think NoDak offers the ideal climate, it being decidedly mountain-less and all. Mississippi’s Magnolia might be tough too.

Seeds are sex and I’m totally getting in the mood. Making notations, starring varieties and dog-earring pages, I’m devouring Landreth’s and my brain is percolating. 

 And, oh, did I mention that I’ve spent all last week visiting farms in Costa Rica and talking to farmers about crops and business realities? I will soon be writing posts on each farm – what I learned, what I saw and the people I met along the way. As a journalist, I was intrigued and focused; as a farmer, I was a mix of hopeful, envious and grateful. 

Gosh, I miss my dirt.