The heading of this post indicates “Another…”. I am referring to the fact that we had a wonderful fall last year. I reported rather dismal crop yields last year – BUT at least we had a crop; in large part due to having warm fall weather, that allowed the crops to mature – at least enough for a decent harvest.

This year we had another challenging spring; due to wet weather, we could not get our crops planted in a timely manner. So the crops were late and I wondered if they would mature (mostly the sorghum) before frost. I could not help projecting: we had a great fall last year – could it happen again this year, 2 years in a row?. Then, we had drought conditions in August: it stunted the beans and put the sorghum crop on hold (delaying maturing). However, we are now having another great fall – unseasonably warm weather. We are harvesting the sorghum before it is fully mature because it is very labor intensive: we now have a lot of visitor help as well as labor exchangers from our sister communities – Twin Oaks & Acorn in Virginia and East Wind in southern Missouri (and because we are already at the average date of the first killing frost).

At this time, we are about half way through the sorghum harvest (2 weeks into it), but I can tell already that we will have an “average” harvest – due to deliciously warm fall weather.

Thank you Gaia, nature spirits, & the Mysterious Ones for two consecutive glorious autumns!

About 2 months ago, my post read A More Normal Spring – indicating that after 3 years of wet springs, we were having  normal spring weather – ie, the absence of small windows; that turned out to be premature. It is being another incredibly wet spring – with small windows.

In an average year (actually, I’m not sure there is such a thing anymore), all of our spring crops would be planted by now: sorghum, field corn, popcorn, corn for seed for SESE (Southern Exposure Seed Exchange), soybeans, pinto & black beans. Right now only about half of our sorghum crop is planted – and none of the others. Earlier this spring, we had windows when we could have planted these crops but it was too cool for us organic producers. A week ago, we had a 3 day window in which to work down the green manure crop & weeds, and plant. We transplanted/planted about half of our sorghum crop; we could have planted more, but the weather was once again cool and the green manure crop was not all dead yet – so we decided not to plant more. Was it the right choice?

It is still too early to tell – why? Since we practice organic methods, we depend on good soil conditions for seed germination and weed control. In seasons of small windows, we are at a distinct disadvantage compared to our conventional neighbors; eg, in that last 3 day window, they finished all their planting: their seeds are treated with fungicides so that if the weather turns cool, the seeds will not rot and/or be picked apart by fungi. Further, they don’t have green manure crops and so what if there are still weeds in the field when they plant? They will be taken care of by an herbicide spray later. In our case, non-treated  seed germination depends on how wet and/or warm the soils are; eg. even though I planted the sorghum seed a week ago, and some plants have poked above the ground, I am still not sure that the germination will be consistent enough for a crop – or that the crop will not be totally swamped with weeds.

For me, small windows are  similar to niche markets: we often have to make snap decisions with little/no info to guide us. We don’t know until much later whether they were good decisions – depending on weather or changes in the marketplace. How to make these decisions? by the seat of your pants? consult your favorite oracle? prayer? At various times, I’ve done all of these. I have no definitive answers/results.

Small windows in agriculture make for stress. Oh well, I am trying to embrace small windows – I assume there is some kind of lesson to be learned here. Here’s to more lessons in life!

In my experience as a farmer, it is with honey bees, that I am most humbled. A prime example is this post.

Here is what I wrote May 1:

My last post on bees – only 7 months ago – was very positive and optimistic. To recap, I was very encouraged/optimistic about our bees last fall. They appeared more vibrant and healthy than in many years. We fantasized about the year ahead: we would build up our colony numbers and have a normal honey harvest.

THEN – this winter, we lost more than half of our colonies (11 out of 20) and currently, several more are struggling for survival. How could this happen? I’ve been keeping bees for 30 years – how could I have totally misjudged this situation?

I don’t have an answer; naturally, I have theories/possible explanations:

1. It’s really the mite problem all over again: for about the last 20 years, the varroa mites have been the main challenge to honey bees in this country – they compromise the immune system of the bees, who are then susceptible to various opportunistic diseases.

2. It’s due to a new class of agricultural chemicals: systemic seed treatments; some beekeepers believe that a new class of systemic seed treatments (eg on corn and other crops) have a devastating effect on honey bees. How so? The theory is that the systemic nature of the seed treatments expresses itself in the entire plant including the pollen – which is collected by bees to feed their brood. The effect of this pollen compromises the development of the immune system and health of the bees. Further, the effect  may not be noted for 6 months or more since the pollen is stored in the hive until it is needed – which may not be until the following spring.

The symptoms described by beekeepers due to #2 above match what we have been experiencing with our hives. I noted this a year ago – but then I could not imagine how seed treatments could influence the bees (see explanation in #2 above). According to the movie, The Vanishing of the Honey Bee, beekeepers in Europe first noted the connection between the new chemicals and effects on their bees and then put pressure on governments to the point where these systemic seed treatments have been banned in France, Germany, & Italy.

NOW:

forward to May 22:  I have a totally different assessment of our bees; for those of you who are beekeepers, this may not be surprising. The energy of a beehive can be totally different from week to week – depending on the queen, weather, nectar/pollen availability, etc. Now the hives are radically different – the bees are vibrant, alive, and bustling. The energy is palpably different – they are purposeful, busy, and hum with a contented sound.

What happened? It’s a wonderment. Some factors: some of the new queens were finally able to go on their mating flights (good weather) and the populations built up. It seems they need a critical mass to make it all work right. And there are a lot of flowers out now: cherry trees, black locust trees, clover, etc. They love being busy.

Part of it is the natural cycle of bees: at this time of year, there is lots of honey & pollen, queens lay thousands of eggs a day, thousands bees hatch every day: workers to gather nectar, pollen, feed brood, etc. more bees, etc etc. all to say, that this is the time of exploding bee populations when the mites simply can’t keep up (that happens later – in August, when the mite population catches up when the bees start sizing down, getting ready for winter.)

Today June 11: the bees continue to do well. We had the bees make some queens and we started new hives with those virgin queens. These queens have now mated and are heading up energetic new hives (all is right in the bee world – for now).

I am in love with the bees again.

I figger I am now officially a senior – even though retirement is not in any of my plans. In one of my paradigms, my senior status indicates that I am now an “elder” – with connotations of experience & wisdom. Some days I relate to both those terms. This post is about times when I don’t.

I have been sharing this experience recently with my friend Dan, who has a 500 tree apple orchard. Although Dan is about a decade younger, we both note that the longer we live, the less we know for sure. Here is the crux: after decades of experience – when we thought we would be experts in our field, we find there are very few things that are always true.

So what’s the problem? First off, we appreciate how much we do know: we no longer have the angst of being new to the basics: soil fertility, plant growth, etc; but even those are incredibly complicated and what seems obvious one year is totally contraindicated the next (or several years later). It doesn’t seem fair: really, I was paying attention to the weather, the health of the plants/crops, and nurtured them the best I could – yet the outcome was totally different; eg, usually, the sorghum we grow from transplants is healthier and more productive than the ones we direct seed in the field, but in 2010 – it was exactly the opposite. So what is the lesson here? That really I don’t know – after all? Humbleness? OK, I got it.

Another prime example is my experience with honey bees – see next post (forthcoming).

Fortunately, Dan and I also share a lively sense of humor. We laugh at ourselves: at how we – the experts – find ourselves guessing at what happened last year and what to do next. Further, laughing at ourselves is more fun when we do it together.

Sometimes, I feel frustrated that I don’t have more definitive answers when folks ask my opinion and about my experience; and yet, perhaps that is part of the wisdom: the absence of definitiveness when dealing with life – soil, plants, critters, etc. It also relates back to my earlier posts re Spirit in Agriculture: a reminder to celebrate the mystery in agriculture. Perhaps that is the wisdom.

It’s amazing how easily we take the seasons for granted – it’s simply the natural flow of life. However, the last three years we have had incredibly wet springs with below normal temperatures – making it very challenging to get crops planted in the fields and even in our gardens. I noted that last year, it was hard to be excited by spring – the constant waiting became depressing. In short, spring was mostly not joyous.

This year we are having a more normal spring: average temperatures and rainfall which means that so far we have been planting crops in a timely fashion. It is still too early to be planting most of our field crops but we are on schedule in planting the vegetable crops. This year we started a new venture – planting produce to sell on a larger scale and that planting is in the normal range. Our peach, cherry, and pear trees are in full bloom; the apricots are finished, and the apples are just beginning.

t is noteworthy how uplifting I find this situation. Perhaps I had not fully realized how much the cold/wet springs had affected me – although I do remember us talking about it last year. In my role as an organic inspector, I had also noted that I had never seen organic farmers more depressed about the weather preventing them from timely planting of annual crops.

I note that this is still early in the season – hopefully, I am not jinxing us by writing about it; in fact yesterday & today it is rainy and cold.

BUT – at this time, we feel uplifted by having a “normal” spring. I am not taking it for granted – I am celebrating and once again, joyous for this season!

For the first year I meditate for about 30 to 45 minutes daily – in the morning (it is the only time I can meditate – after that, the inner dialog is too distracting). Gradually I skip some mornings  and meditate for shorter periods of time: I am wondering if my practice will peter out and die? Then, last summer I am going through some health challenges – GI issues. It occurs to me that in my meditation practice (which includes a body scan to feel the energy in various parts of the body), I should be able to detect where/what the problem in my GI tract is. With this as a focus during my meditation, I sense that my colon is blocked in a particular place. I massage the area – which feels good but does not alleviate the symptoms. My doctor is recommending a colonoscopy; I decide to go ahead with it and indeed, he finds an obstruction. To explore the nature of the obstruction, a MRI is recommended – I go ahead with it and the MRI confirms it: the guess is that my colon is twisted or otherwise blocked. Is it the same area I identified during my meditation? It’s not conclusive, but my gut (ha!) feeling is that I identified the area/obstruction correctly; however, I am now on the western medicine tract and a barium enema is next. Surprisingly, it indicates no obstructions – now the guess is that the enema straightened out the obstruction. My GI tract improves – although very slowly.

Back to Vipassana: I now meditate regularly and currently, I miss only once or twice a week. Why the change? Is it because of all these medical procedures? It certainly appears to be a significant factor: the intense physical experience of the various medical procedures has made the body scanning of the Vipassana practice feel more relevant. On the other hand, it’s hard to sort out all the variables – eg, the mediation practice is such an integral part of my morning routine: I get up before anyone else does, make coffee, make a fire, empty the dish rack, then sit down to a cup of coffee in the dark – and FEEL myself: in the dark, with my brew, wake up to a new day, and then meditate. It feels so right.

I still wonder exactly what benefits I derive from my meditation and/or my morning routine. Why do I meditate more regularly some times than others? Mostly, I feel that something is lacking – when I don’t do the practice. But what exactly is it? I can’t really verbalize it.

I wonder whether I would be meditating now if I had not experienced the GI issues; in any case, I am happy to be back in my practice (and my GI tract feels much healthier).

I am as eclectic as ever. I am in awe of all the life forms and spirits that contribute to agriculture (& life) on our farm. I wish I could more actively communicate with the plants and spirits – mostly, I try to listen. When the weather feels unfriendly, it is challenging. I find it difficult to feel in synch with spirit when instead of experiencing abundance from nature, we have to fight for what we get.

Spirituality: when I came to the communities movement in the late 1970s, the word “spiritual” was not a welcome word. We were still rebelling against religion and to us, spiritual described groups that had an exalted or charismatic leader (eg ashrams). We were egalitarian and distrusted leaders of any kind; however, I have always been drawn to spiritual experiences – I gradually reclaimed that word for myself and declared myself to be spiritual – but not religious.

Wu-wu – a word/concept some folks use to refer to some of the ideas I am expressing here. In my experience, people use it to refer to: the spirit/non physical world, issues they feel uncomfortable with and/or can’t be proved. It is often used dismissively as in “that’s too wuwu for me”. I am actually proud of my wuwu-ness. Simply put, I’d rather not limit myself to the physical realm – some of my greatest experiences are in the wuwu field. I welcome more wuwu in my life.

With reference to where I started this topic: re spirit in agriculture or spirits out there –  I note that currently most of my activity relates to spirit/energy in farming – I am less active in trying to contact nature spirits.

I work mostly with field crops – using a tractor and equipment – on a very small scale; we grow our own grains, beans, and some crops to sell – eg sorghum. I take to heart the old adage: “the best fertilizer is the footprint of the farmer” which I take to mean being in touch with the soil and plants. It is easy to relate to putting good energy into growing crops – but what about nature spirits taking care of plants? I believe they are there – but how to communicate?

My searching leads me to an Acres conference, where non physical energies in farming are generally acknowledged – but how do they work? How to augment/increase the positive energy? I recall one presenter at the conference describing his experience of communicating via non physical channels – it inspires me to try something similar. While planting that year’s sorghum crop, I concentrate really hard on sending my positive vibes into the seeds as they go into the ground. When I finish the field, I realize that the mechanism on one of the two row planter was plugged – no seeds were actually planted in that row. I ended up replanting most of the field; the lesson I take from this is that good vibes (no matter how strong) do not replace common sense and keeping machinery functioning properly.

I want be more active – to welcome and celebrate spirits in my farming practices. I try the biodynamic (BD) model: it appears close to embodying my ideals – and it comes complete with a practice. There is making the preparations, stirring them, and then applying them. I like the symbolism: each of the preparations (preps) consists of a vegetative matter (eg, dandelion flowers, oak bark, etc) inside an animal sheath (male deer bladder, cow horn, etc), which is then incubated (in shamanic terms – it is charged with energy/power). There is ritual: making the preps and stirring them in water – first in one direction until a deep vortex forms, then reversing directions, creating chaos until a new vortex forms – for a full hour. Then I spread it on the ground, on plants, or on a compost pile – depending on the individual prep.

Does it work? Some BD practitioners do experiments that indicate positive (even fantastic) results. I am not scientifically inclined: I make the preps and apply them – but I do not see dramatic results. To me, it’s like asking: does prayer work? It depends on your belief system. I do note that when I do the BD preps, I feel good – like I am doing something positive and raising the spiritual energy on the farm. And yet I have this nagging doubt – is this a personal head trip? Am I doing this for the earth & the spirits? Or for me? Does it matter?

Part of what I like about BD is the transformation of something physical to non physical: the matter (prep) is infused with energy/power (like a shaman charging an amulet). A quarter cup of prep is stirred in 3 gallons of water for an hour and is enough to treat an acre: this small amount of matter cannot possibly make a physical difference in the soil. Further, I like the BD way of looking at the farm as a living organism (similar to Gaia). It fosters a reverent attitude – that we are stewards of the earth.

However, my BD practice is still erratic: I rarely make any of the preps myself anymore – I buy them; I do some stirring and apply them every year – but not to all the crops. Is it laziness or not quite the right fit?

On a tangential note, in the early 1980s I start going to a regional mens gathering. I resonate with the spirituality I experience in the radical faerie culture here. In general, it is related to pagan/wiccan traditions, but then they adapt it to our current culture. We create our own rituals – our own experiences shape the way we relate to the divine, the mystical, and the spirit world. While this does not pertain to agriculture, it is my ideal model – to create my own symbols and ritual that express how I experience and communicate with the spirit(s) in agriculture.

Here in the rainforest of Guatemala, I live in the midst of trees: I talk to them and hug them. I try to feel the presence of nature spirits and sometimes I do – how to describe it? a sense of an other, a sacredness. Then I realize that I’m going through a paradigm shift:  I feel fundamentally different about the natural world – it is so much more complex than I ever imagined. There are all these physical life forms: bacteria & fungi, earthworms, mammals, etc. and then the spirits. How do they interact? What is my place in all this?

I read about paganism: how we humans have interacted with the spirit world through the ages and in various cultures. I now see fairies in a new light – perhaps they are real after all; and I remember the shamans in Africa – the intermediaries between humans and spirits. And I remember that FEELING – that in some way I was connecting to my primal roots.

So how do I manifest this new way of seeing the world? I now believe in spirits – so what? What has changed? I want some physical manifestation of how I am different. I vacillate: some days I feel it’s all in my head; at other times, I’m blissed out by my new understanding of reality.

The commune we are attempting to establish in Guatemala is not coming together: we are lonely and decide to go back to the mother culture. I’ve been gone for three year – how will I fit in?

I decide to join Sandhill farm/community; it is close to my twin dreams: an agricultural base with a communal setting (although there are only 3 folks here). What about spirit? That seems a private/individual matter here – so I don’t talk about it. Another dilemma: at Sandhill, we farm with tractors and machinery – do/can spirits coexist with this technology?

By spirit I refer to the non physical: thoughts, prayers, forces, energies, etc – but is spirit inside or outside? singular or plural? To illustrate: does spirit refer to: A) life force/energy in nature – eg Gaia (the notion that the earth is a living organism); and/or B) individual spirits – eg fairies and/or spirits that take care of trees, plants, rivers, etc? In my world, folks generally readily agree to A, but there is a wide divergence with reference to B.

A further clarification: there are different agricultural paradigms. The conventional one is the NPK approach (nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium), characterized by: an analysis of what nutrients a crop requires for optimal production, a soil test of what is already there, and then one can make up the difference with fertility inputs. It is a mechanistic/industrial model: inputs & outputs. In the sustainable/organic paradigm, agriculture is seen as a complex interaction among humans and various life forms – both physical and non. With reference to the above, this paradigm generally includes A – but not B.

I note that I am hesitant writing about spirit/spirituality (I’ve been working on this post for weeks – and have ambivalent feelings). I finally decide to write not analytically – but rather to share my experience with this topic. Here goes…

I grow up on a farm in a Mennonite community in Canada. In my Mennonite history class in high school, we are taught that our people have been and are innovative farmers – but there is no instruction of agricultural principles or practices. There is definitely no mention of spirit (except for the Holy Spirit – in church). It seems we are expected to absorb how to farm by doing the work – we have “chores” to do from an early age.

In school, I love reading to learn about different cultures and I do not expect to stay on the farm. I head for the city, but after 2 years in Mennonite Bible College, I am ready for something new. I go on a Junior Year Abroad program to the University of Nigeria in West Africa. One of my courses is on Traditional Religions of West Africa, taught by a Nigerian catholic priest. He takes us on trips to see witch doctors (now known as shamans – a good example of changing paradigms). Although I am very christian, I like these guys – they are colorful characters and respected in their villages. It dawns on me that they are the spiritual leaders in the community – a link between the physical and the spirit world. I note that everyone (even the christian students at the University) wear amulets, which have been charged with power by a shaman. While visiting students in their homes, I become aware that in this culture, spirits are very real – for example, they are given food and drink at the beginning of every meal. Fertility rituals, as in blessing the soil and crops, are performed every year – but what really impresses me is how spirits are an integral part of daily life.

When I return home, the memory fades – and so does my christian paradigm. I don’t know how to incorporate spirits into this paradigm. For the next decade, I flounder through a nihilistic phase…

Our 2010 wheat crop was the poorest ever; not in quantity, but in quality. The wheat kernels (berries) were shrivelled up and light – they weighed 49.5 lb/bu (normal is 60 lb. I’d never heard of wheat below 55 lb.) So what does that matter – since we grow it all for ourselves (and our chickens)? Technically, it doesn’t – we still use it to bake bread, etc. But I can’t help but feel that it does not have the vigor and nutrition of more normal/heavier wheat. I decided to buy wheat seed to plant next year’s crop because I feel seed vigor is important; however, the chickens are not complaining and we planted a lot of it for green manure crops.

Another big surprise was our sorghum crop. It is our signature crop: our main cash crop and what we are known for in the area. We put a lot of energy into producing and selling it; a good crop strokes my ego and reassures us that we really are farmers. We began raising sorghum transplants about 15 years ago and since then plant about half of our annual crop (6 acres) with transplants and the rest is direct seeded. Usually, the transplants yield considerably more per acre than the direct seeded and have fewer weeds; consequently, I have often been tempted to transplant all of it.

This year our transplanted acres yielded about 35 gallons syrup per acre and the direct seeded 100 gal/acre. This – in spite of the fact that some of the direct seeded was planted 3 times (due to heavy rains washing away the seed and/or the seed rotting) and so was very late. The transplants also had a hard life: it was unseasonably cold when we planted and so many did not germinate – instead of having 3 transplants every 2 feet, often there was only one. Then some plants died due to incessant rain after transplanting. All in all, it made for a low population in the field – which could have resulted in big vigorous plants but instead the shallow rooted plants (due to constant moisture) were blown over by wind. In contrast, the direct seeded plants were planted much later (usually a disadvantage but this year the weather turned warm and somewhat drier in mid summer – much better for the crops.) The late sorghum grew very well – but it was not mature when we harvested it and so the yield was lower than it could have been.

We grow dried beans for our own consumption. This year we planted black beans, pintos, reds, & tiger eye beans. Heavy rains washed away the seed and/or they rotted. We replanted all again – except red beans because we ran out of seed. The same thing happened again. Now we were out of tiger eye seeds as well. The black beans seemed to fare a little better than the others – so we kept a small portion of that crop and replanted a few pintos and mostly black beans. By now it was very late and the beans continued to struggle with the wet conditions but then finally grew in the summer heat – but they never got very big. I expected a poor yield. We harvested them yesterday: we got about 25 lb of pintos and 120 lb of black beans – much more than I expected.

Back to the unpredictability factor: if I had predicted yields at middle of growing season, I would have been way off – picking random numbers out of a hat would have been as accurate. I remember being amazed last year when an organic farmer I was inspecting showed me how they estimate corn yields: count the number of cobs per foot of row, measuring the size of the cobs, and then multiplying by ?(I can’t remember); apparently, it is fairly accurate.

Me – I suppose part of me enjoys being surprised – I like the mystery in agriculture (& life in general!). But when it comes to crop yield surprises: I admit I enjoy them more when they are abundant – rather than scarce. I had both this year.

Then a raised eyebrow and “any CCD?” (colony collapse disorder). No, no, I reassure them; fortunately, we have not had that scenario.

We currently have 20 hives (including 2 top bar hives). We harvested a little honey a few weeks ago: the second consecutive year of lowest ever honey harvest – average of 1.5 gallons of honey per hive (our average had been 5 gal/hive). Then I got worried: maybe we took too much honey and did not leave them enough for winter (that happened last year).

BUT – here it is Oct 2 and y’know what? Our bees are doing fantastic! Better than they have all year (maybe 2-3 years…): they have good brood & populations, energy in the hives is focused, and they are bringing in honey & pollen. It is being a beautiful fall: finally, some dry weather, comfortable temperatures, and lots of wildflowers (as well as our planted buckwheat). The change in the hives is remarkable.

My current theory: we have not done any of the “chemicals” for 10 years and now we are off all “treatments” – even organic ones. We are also not bringing in queens from the outside. I figger the bees are coming back to their equilibrium in this environment – which is a mixed one: there are conventional crops within their flying range – but not very many; however, some of the symptoms we saw this summer were eerily similar to effects of exposure to pesticides. Yikes! That’s scary.

AND – I am reading an AWESOME BOOK: I highly recommend it:

FRUITLESS FALL by Rowan Jacobsen, subtitle – The Collapse of the Honey Bee and the Coming Agricultural Crises. It reminds me of Michael Pollan’s writings: great explanations of how things work woven into the larger context. I am re-orienting how I think of bees.

This kind of weather is particularly difficult for organic farmers. Conventional farmers often no-till their seeds into the ground: they have a custom applicator spray an herbicide on the field and then plant with a no-till drill/planter and it’s done! Organic farmers rely on tillage to destroy weeds or green manure crops in preparation for planting. This means we need the soil to dry out enough to properly till the soil and kill weeds before planting. This year whenever we could work the ground, it usually rained again before we could plant. In that small window, conventional farmers planted their crops. When we finally did plant crops, we often had a heavy deluge – which made for erosion and poor germination. Then we could not get in the field to rotary hoe and cultivate – to control weeds; sometimes, the weeds took over the crops. (I now wish I had taken photos of several of our crop plantings that were so poor that we destroyed them and replanted; at the time, I found it so depressing that I did not remember how helpful photos can be).

During my inspections of organic farms this spring and summer, I met a lot of discouraged organic farmers; a typical attitude was: “For most businesses, 3 bad years in a row means going out of business. This is our third consecutive year of poor crops and the worst one of all – I hope I survive.” Many had to replant crops – extra expense and usually less yields. Weed control was also difficult – it was too wet to get in the field to cultivate. It is humbling to have very weedy fields after having worked hard at weed management.

In general, in our part of the country, the corn crop looks poor, the soybeans look quite good, and there is abundant grass for pasture and hay – although the lack of dry weather has made haying challenging as well. The corn is poor – because of all the rain while it was being planted. Most beans are planted later – when there was slightly less rain and warmer weather.

Further: grain markets are discouraging for organic farmers (conventional farmers seem to be able to get by because they get a lot of government payments). For grain and row crop farmers, soybean prices continue to be good. Some crops (corn, wheat, oats, hay), the prices are low which means that the pressure and urge to plant as many fields to soybeans as possible is very strong. The organic certifiers are constantly reminding farmers that planting soybeans two years in a row is not a good organic rotation practice – and highly discouraged in the organic standards. Farmers, on the other hand, need to plant profitable crops to stay in business (ie. Soybeans). As an inspector, I am in the middle – I get it from both sides and empathize with both. Fortunately, I don’t have to make a decision as to whether they are complying with the organic standards – I report what is happening on the farm.

Now, it has finally dried out; in fact, a week or 2 ago, we wished for a rain – first time this year. And we got it!

(Dee Lusby, a commercial beekeeper and founder of small cell movement – I wrote about her in my post on Organic Beekeeping Conference)

I realized that since I was already in AZ, I could spend a day with Dee in her bee yards – I call her & she agrees. I get to Dee’s farm near Amado AZ at 9 am; she and David (a beekeeper from Tucson, who has come out for the day as well) are already loading the truck. She gets me a bee suit and we are off. After 45 minutes of driving on desert roads (often only tracks) we arrive at the first yard. (Dee disputes my calling this area a desert – she says there is a lot of vegetation here. And really, there are wildflowers everywhere!).

Dee is very excited about the prospects for her bees this year: due to rain this winter -she is seeing more flowering plants now than since the 1980s. I am constantly asking her to identify various wildflowers. My favorite is the fairy duster (aptly named); Dee: “oh yeah, that blooms only about once every ten years.” According to David, this is the first time he’s seen it bloom. Dee muses: this is the kind of year we dream about – with all the wildflowers, the bees are building up fast and with the rain we are having, the flow is likely to go on all summer. I get to build my bee numbers back up AND get lots of honey – maybe 60 barrels this year! It’s the year to break even and then next year, actually, make a profit!

At the bee yard: this is the first visit of the season – very different from our system where from April, we visit our bees almost every week. In contrast, Dee visits her bees once in spring and then for honey harvest in July and again in the fall. She uses only deep (brood) boxes – no supers; the hives have 5 boxes each; in our system, we get our hives down to 2 or 3 boxes for the winter and then add boxes as they build up in the spring.

Time to get to work: several hives had died last fall and are marked. David and I pull apart the boxes from those hives and prepare them for divides. Dee is inspecting the rest of the hives to see if any more died – a few have: there are 20 hives, Dee wants there to be 30. We prepare places for 10 more hives.

Dee: “ok boys, you ready for action?” Sure – yikes, she’s not kidding! Once she gets down into the brood in the hives, bees are in our face – big time. We work fast and by the time we open all 20 hives, we have halos of bees around our heads and my veil is crowded with bees. I’m not used to this kind of bee frenzy – and I’m on edge; but there’s no time to reflect. Dee does all the deciding – this one is ready to be divided: she takes off the top 3 boxes, then “OK, take it away”. David quickly grabs the next box and carries it to one of the empty spots. I follow and place other empty boxes on top and number the hive. Sometimes, Dee yells “Wait, I’m not done with that one.” I have to take off the boxes again, and she pulls out several frames of brood to take back to the old hive or to start a new one. I’ve done this work myself for years and after awhile, I start pulling some frames out to help her. “Please don’t do that – you can’t anticipate what I want” she admonishes. I get it: she does not easily delegate work and is particular about how she wants things done; however, after awhile, she gets that I know Housel positioning and trusts me to place the frames properly.

We are done fairly quickly. We get in the truck – bees swirling all around us. It takes 15 minutes of driving before the bees clear out and we can take off our veils & gloves. David asks “did you get stung? What do you think of these Africanized bees?” I realize that I had no stings and they are waiting for my answer. (I remember that this is a sore point for Dee – many in the commercial and scientific community dismiss her success in beekeeping to having africanized bees; she is convinced that it’s their way of dismissing the real reasons – the fact that she uses small cell, is organic and practices no treatments at all.) I answer carefully: I was surprised by how defensive the bees were. Dee comes right back: “you didn’t get stung, right? The bees get all disoriented when I rip apart their brood nest and I deliberately did not use smoke because I don’t want the nurse bees to leave when I am dividing hives. The bees are disoriented – not angry.” Ok, that makes sense.

It takes at least an hour to drive to the next yard – plenty of time to admire the scenery: mountains all around, landscape is green and full of wildflowers. David muses “a bee paradise”. And so the day goes. We spend as much time driving through the desert, canyons, washouts, etc as actually working the bees. We work easily together, settling into the routine. In between, we enjoy the scenery and discussing bees and their keepers. I’d hoped to get photos from David for this post – no luck so far.

The third yard is different: there were 17 dead hives and only 7 alive; further, the survivors have fewer bees than in the other yards. Dee shakes her head in disgust: “bee wars – this happens every year. That jerk across the valley (another beekeeper) comes in every winter and steals my queens and bees. He needs bees to take to California for the almond pollination but can’t keep his bees alive because he dopes them up constantly.” I reply: “I think I’d leave – there’s lots of room out here.” Dee is adamant: no way – I am staying here – just to be in his face. Me and my bees – we’re survivors. She’s got that right! She is undaunted and starts a bunch of new hives there.

End of the day – we are tired but satisfied with what we accomplished. When bees are doing well, it’s a joy to work with them. Dee’s enthusiasm is infectious: I feel energized and blessed with ideas of how to work with bees more efficiently.

About 27 years ago, we decided to plant one of our pastures into native grass (big bluestem, Indian grass, & sideoats grama) – mostly to provide forage for our dairy cow(s) during the hot months of summer. We did not know anyone else in the area who had native grasses and when our local vet & conservation personnel found out about ours – they came out to observe it themselves.

Apparently, the native grass prairies depended on occasional fire/burning to maintain it: perhaps mostly natural (lightning) or set intentionally by the native people living here.

In our case, we have only one pasture field in native grass – and we burn it irregularly:  every 2-5 years, depending on the season and/or our energy.

The photos are from our most recent burn – April 13, 2010. The first one is of the fire beginning – it was a “back burn.” There was a very slight wind from the left in the photos and there are woods on the right – we did not want to catch the woods on fire so we started the fire on the side close to the woods and watched it closely. After a corridor was burned , we spread it across the field from the edges. The last photo shows the hottest part of the fire – it crackled a lot: in fact, we kept hearing popping noises coming from the woods – echoes of the fire.

The burn went perfectly!

The vision behind the founding of Sandhill Farm was to move toward self sufficiency – a key component was to grow our own food. Keeping bees was an easy fit and so a year after taking over the farm (1974), Ann & Ed ordered bees and equipment from Sears. The hive did fine until the milk cow accidentally knocked over the hive. Eventually, the bees died. In the meantime, a beekeeper in the area asked to locate one of his apiaries (25 hives) on our land – we were thrilled to have bees in our environment.

1980

I get stung a few times driving by the hives with our farm equipment – I get the community to agree to request Desi to move his hives somewhere else. When I ask Desi (Cuban), he responds: “Oh no, can’t move bees in summer – zere are zousands & zousands of baby bees – they get lost. I make you good deal – you buy them.” Huh? interesting proposition: but wait, I’m getting stung – maybe it will be different if they are our bees? We decide to buy them and as Desi predicted, we make half of our investment back with the first year’s honey harvest.

One of the impulses to buy bees is that we were trying to find ways to support ourselves – to make a living off the land. We began making sorghum syrup in 1977 and were selling it at local fairs and on the farm. We soon note that when we’re at a table and have only one product to sell, – it limits the customers. With 2 products, we can potentially double our sales! (Since then, we have continued to increase the number of products we sell at our booth – sometimes, 10 different products).

Honey sales are good – it’s a profitable venture for us; having Desi as a mentor and consultant helps. He also supplies us with equipment and queens when we need them. In 1986, we purchase another 27 hives from him – this apiary is at a neighbor’s farm about 5 miles from us. Two years later, we purchase another 25 hives from Desi at another neighbor. We are rockin-n-rollin.

Everything is going well: our average honey harvest is approximately the national average: 4-5 gallons per hive.

1990-01:

FOULBROOD! What every beekeeper dreads. We lose a lot of hives, burn some boxes, bees, & honey (recommended in the literature and by Desi).

1992: I’m hearing news of a new bee parasite: mites. After research, I decide to buy 20 Buckfast queens – reportedly, they can live with the mites.

1993

Spring: I’m scared – the mites are spreading all over the world and killing large numbers of hives. I decide to control the mites by treating with an insecticide (the next year, it’s recalled).

Fall – we have a record honey harvest: 480 gallons from 50 hives: I’m ecstatic.

BUT: friends who are helping us harvest the honey point out that we have the dreaded varroa mites on the bees; according to the literature, it takes 3 years for the mites to kill bee colonies. OK, I have 3 years to come up with a strategy.

While in one of his apiaries harvesting honey, Desi has a heart attack & dies. My mentor is gone – now I’m on my own.

We buy 24 hives from the person who purchased the entire operation.

Spring 1994

All 50 sandhill hives dead! I’m dumbfounded – how could this be? Ah! I thot we had 3 years; however, this must have been the third year: it fits – apparently, it is common to have a record honey crop when the bees have a heavy mite load – they pull out all stops in their attempt to overcome the mites. Also, the Buckfast queens are reputedly resistant to mites – but not the varroa mites.

12 hives survive in the apiary we purchased last fall.

We build up the number of colonies by dividing the hives. To overcome the mites, we get Yugoslavian queens (just released by USDA), reputedly able to live with varroa mites.

I don’t trust it: I treat most hives with formic acid (allowed in organic certification & used a lot in Europe).

1995: lots of queen failures: on further reading, many beekeepers report queen failures after using formic acid. Yuk! Also the bees hate it.

In the fall, distrusting other solutions, I treat most hives with Apistan – the conventional

miticide used in the industry.

1996 – 33 hives

I try to raise lots of our own queens – very little success. Why? My guess is that I did it too early and did not really pay enough attention to important details. It’s more complicated than I’d imagined.

I feed grease & essential oil patties to bees – to control mites (the grease is vegetable shortening – makes the bees slippery so the mites fall off).

1997

Only 7 hives survived the winter. OUCH! What am I doing wrong?

I begin to do essential oil treatment seriously – in sugar water fed to bees weekly.

We buy bees and frames of brood from a local beekeeper and queens from commercial producers in AL & CA to start new hives. (At this rate, it is not a paying enterprise…)

End of year I treat a few hives with Apistan and all hives w/ Terramyacin (for foulbrood). (I don’t want to lose so many hives again…)

1998 – 33 hives

FOULBROOD again – ugh! I take away their honey and feed it back to them w/ Terramyacin & essential oils.

Amazing – they bounce right back and we have an average honey harvest.

1999

Foulbrood continues – I treat hives individually. I continue with essential oils & terramyacin. For the first time, I hear that foulbrood is now resistant to terramyacin.

2000 – 24 hives

I buy bees and queens again – wanting more bee hives NOW.

I make a few screened bottom boards – for mite control; apparently, mites fall off bees and if they fall through a screen, they can’t climb back up into the hive.

2001 – 23 hives

I begin introducing small cell foundation – for mite control (what else?). The only bees that draw it correctly are captured swarms. I realize that this will require a lot of management. I put all hives on screened bottom boards.

2002

No more chemical treatments: terramyacin or apistan. From now on I use only treatments allowed in certified organic production: powder sugar, essential oils, acids.

I begin using powder sugar & garlic powder for mite control – the powder sugar makes the bees slippery so that the mites fall off and through the screen bottom board; the garlic? To deter/kill the mites.

I start to use drone comb catchment & destruction for mite control: drone brood is more attractive to the mites – they migrate there and then we freeze it and kill the mites.

2003

12 hives survive, I buy more bees, brood, & queens.

I try a new system of mite control (developed in Holland): rotating brood in and out of hives so that each colony has a time of no brood and so no place for mites to reproduce. It consists of drone catchment and a lot of brood & hive manipulation – it really upsets the bees and so is unpleasant for us as well.

2004-06

I’m seeing a lot of mites, I treat all hives with formic acid and continue with small cell and powder sugar dusting.

2007-8

I continue having to re-queen about half of our hives every year: it dawns on me – it may be the effects of formic acid – the literature confirms my suspicion. I back off on formic acid: at most, one application per year (rather than 2) and treating only half of the hives.

2009

No more formic acid. At end of season, we treat most hives with thymol.

Honey harvest is the lowest ever – average 1 gallon per hive (due to cold rainy summer).. We should not have taken any because we had to feed them heavily in fall

2010: we have the best over wintering ratio in a long time – we lose only 2 hives.

THE BIG PICTURE

Beekeeping changed dramatically with the arrival of varroa mites which have now spread all over the world; they arrived in our area about 1990. A reference point: the few years prior to that, we had 75 hives; after the mites, it takes as much time & energy to manage about a third as many colonies. Everything we do is centered on how to control varroa. Perhaps it is making us better beekeepers – we are paying a lot more attention to the bees and looking for hardy bees.

Our strategies for managing varroa are in two categories: treatments and management.

Treatments

With the arrival of varroa, the industry responded with chemical treatments – apistan was the standard and is applied by inserting plastic strips treated with fluvalinate into the beehive. The bees walk on them and spread it throughout the hive. In emergency situations, I used them. Beekeepers discovered that after 3 years of treatment, the mites developed resistance The chemical companies responded by coming up with new (& nastier) treatments. The beekeeping industry acknowledges that chemical treatments are short term; the long term strategy is to breed bees that can live with varroa. It is proving more difficult than envisioned. Many producers are advertising their queens as being varroa resistant: hygienic in general, and in particular Minnesota hygienic, Russians, etc. Each has merit: we’ve tried several but it appears that none are magical – after awhile, they lose those particular genetics.

Essential oils: when varroa first appeared, many beekeepers looked for natural controls – esential oils were popular: especially wintergreen & peppermint oil (I added tea tree oil). I thought they were working for several years – looking back, it seems that some of the effect was due to my paying close attention to the bees. After a few years, I concluded that they were not worth the effort.

Formic acid: is found in the hive naturally and ants have it in their bodies as well (but the kind we use is from a laboratory). Beekeepers – especially biodynamic ones and in Europe have been treating with formic, oxalic, and lactic acid for quite a while with apparent good success. I treated hives with formic acid for several years and it appears to control the mites – but it is nasty stuff. The fumes burn my nostrils, the bees hate it, and it seems to result in queen failure. It works by soaking special pads with acid and then inserting them in the beehive: the acid is released slowly. Over a period of 3 weeks, it releases enough acid fumes to kill the mites but not the bees.  So far, every time I have treated them, some of the bees seal off the pads with propolis – rendering them useless. As of 2008, we discontinue using it.

Thymol – appears to be more gentle: bees do not react to it like formic acid. We have used it only once – in the fall of 2009.

Management:

Small cell: we began introducing small cell foundation in 2001 (for more info on small cell – see my blog post of 3/28/2010 – on sandhill website). The idea is that small cells result in smaller bees, who are better able to live with varroa mites. The challenge is that often the bees do not build small cells consistently so I gave up on it. Then I found a Mennonite beekeeper in mizzourah that invented a different small cell – the bees like it and draw it more consistently. However, he moved to Arkansas and is currently not selling the foundation. We are still in process of introducing small cell foundation – the goal is to have all hives using small cell for their brood nest – it is fine to use various cell sizes to store honey.

Powder sugar & screen bottom boards: we dust the bees with powder sugar. The sugar makes the bees slippery so that the mites fall off, through the screen bottom board, and unable to crawl back into the hive.

How effective is it? It’s hard to tell – but it’s a fairly benign and non intrusive practice – we continue to do it.

Drone catchment: the varroa mites prefer to incubate in drone brood (they take 24 days rather than 21 to mature) and more food is packed into the cells. More food = higher reproduction rates. We wait until the drone brood is capped – but before they hatch, then freeze the brood – killing the mites and larvae.

AND NOW?

It appears that what has happened with beekeeping mirrors developments in agriculture in general: the idea being that by controlling nature, we can overcome all challenges. Control consists of chemical treatments to kill the bad guys. Nature responds by evolving resistance and the treadmill continues.

What about CCD (colony collapse disorder)? The scientific and beekeeping community continue to collaborate on trying to solve this puzzle. Result? Nothing definitive; the current theory is that it is due to a combination of factors centering around STRESS: due to more systemic pesticide use in crops, migratory beekeeping in which the bees are moved often and pumped up for particular pollination contracts (eg almonds in CA), as well as the widespread use of insecticides inside the hive for mite control, etc.

Top Bar Hives have recently become very popular with hobby beekeepers. The advantages: no lifting of heavy boxes, the bees build their own comb and decide what size cells to make, opening the hive is less invasive, and the bees become more gentle. It is attractive for many first time beekeepers. The trade off is that the comb is harvested along with the honey: more wax but less honey. Many of the folks who have top bar hives are more interested in the bees than the honey.

We just started our first top bar hive today  4/18/10.

As of now (4/18/10 ), we are planning to not use treatments of any kind. Our strategy is to get the bees to live with the mites with the help of: small cell, screened bottom boards, and having the bees raise their own queens to coexist with varroa.

Stay tuned!

THE COMMUNITY FACTOR

We live communally. I’ve used the personal pronoun a lot in this narrative – I have been the primary bee caretaker since 1982; however, there has usually been at least one other member that worked with me every year and each left their imprint: Grady, Thea, Ann, Inge, Jules, Gigi, & currently, Apple. When they were involved for more than a year, we began to make decisions jointly. We have also taken numerous interns and visitors for their first experience with bees. It’s a real treat to watch a newbee be awe struck at seeing thousands of bees at work in the hive – and sometimes crawling on their arms!

Art – a better word for what I mean in this context is intuition  (it seems cumbersome) and by science I mean facts and observable conditions at hand. Many of my decisions are based to some extent on intuition/a gut feeling. I’ve  noted that when I’m asked about our crop rotation or how I make daily farming decisions, I often find it difficult to articulate. It is easier to poin to a book or website (science) – but there are always other factors that are involved (art). My conclusion: picture a decision making process that has art/intuition and science/facts on opposite ends of the continuum (most of our decisions fall somewhere in between). To illustrate how I experience this dynamic, I will use the example of planting oats this spring – on March 31.

Oats is usually the first field crop we plant in the spring. In our part of the country (northern MO), traditional wisdom is to plant oats in March – if possible. Many years it is too wet at this time and so it is delayed. However, my experience is that the oats do better when I plant them in April. So why did we plant in March this year?

The last two years have been very wet here – planting at the appropriate time has been a challenge. Last winter was wet as well so I prepared myself for delayed planting. Then, in late March, the weather turned warm and dry and the soil in some fields was actually dry enough to plant; further, the forecast was for rain in a few days. We tilled the ground on 2 consecutive days (to destroy and incorporate the cover crop) and planted the next day. It rained that night and the next day. Perfect timing!

Wait – as I said, I prefer not to plant oats in March – why did I go against this principle? It’s back to art & science. Many/most farming decisions include: what? how? when? (Where will be the  subject of a future post). Let’s look at these questions individually.

What?  to plant oats. This is basically in the science sphere: we feed oats to our chickens and and plant it for green manure/cover crop. It also fits in well with our crop rotation.

How? This refers mostly to preparing the ground for planting. (We do the actual planting with a standard grain drill pulled by a tractor. The drills plants the seed 1″-2″ in the ground in rows 7″ apart). However, the soil needs to be tilled so that it is a nice seed bed for the seeds to germinate and grow. How to prepare the seed bed? There are  standard farming techniques which can be researched  in books and/or the internet (when I am new to an area, I ask local farmers how they do it). So far – this is the science part.

Here is where it got murky: one field had a thick cover crop – it needed to be disced at least twice rather than cultivated  (the disc is more effective at killing plants but also kills more earthworms than the cultivator). Another factor:  many times when we till, we work the soil 4″-5″ deep so that the crop roots will have an easy time to go down to avail themselves of nutrients. However, in the early spring, I’ve noted that the soil that deep is still cold & wet: when that ground is tilled, it gets cloddy and destroys soil structure. So our first tillage pass is quite shallow – to dry out the soil and expose it to the sun to warm up. The next pass is a little deeper – 2″-3″. BUT it all depends on how the soil responds. Sometimes even that is too deep and the operator needs to quickly respond and adjust the equipment less deep (a combination of experience and intuition).

When? This is all in the art/intuition side. I’ve already mentioned various aspect of this issue above; what it comes down to:  it all depends on the weather, soil conditions, what we (humans) are available for (and feeling?), etc. As of NOW, it appears that the timing was perfect; however, harvest is a long time away and maybe it will not seem ideal then.

Art/intuition & science/reason: seems they are usually both involved in decisions – certainly in farming.

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.

The facility is unpretentious: a large open room with several tables of bee equipment & supplies and about 50 chairs. Dee pulls herself away from an animated discussion – to register us. She continues talking bees: “are you aware that there is a left and right side to every frame?” I look at her skeptically – is this her idea of a joke? She senses my ambivalence: “come here, I’ll show you.” She holds a frame of bee comb up to the light: “look inside the cells – see the Y pointing down? When I turn it around – see how the Y points down on this side?” After several attempts, I see it. She continues: “this may not make a difference to you – but it’s a big deal to the bees. When you switch frames from left to right – it’s like someone moving your furniture; after awhile, the queen goes “how can I do my job when the furniture is constantly moved? I’m leaving – so she swarms – that ever happen to you?” OUCH! (Coming to this conference, swarming is one of the main issues I want to explore – we had excessive swarming last season). I’ve been here less than 10 minutes and already my head is spinning: YES! This is what I came for.

People are standing around outside in small groups – talking bees. After dinner, we introduce ourselves to the group. It becomes apparent that there is no scheduled program; tonight, a few of the regulars will sketch it out: who speaks when and for how long. That’s cool – I’m down with informal.

March 6.

We have sessions all day: 8 am – 9:30 pm, except for breaks and meal times. The speakers are us: small time beekeepers (Dee is the only large scale beekeeper – 600 hives). She is not a speaker – “I’m trying to draw back;” however, she is the queen bee here – her pheromones set the tone.

Some topics are common to most beekeeping conferences: how to increase the number of your hives, personal experiences in beekeeping, health benefits of propolis, etc; others are new to me: top bar hives, how to get started with no treatment beekeeping, the interaction of microbes and bees in the bee hive, and apitherapy: a practitioner demonstrates how he uses bees to stings people to treat human illnesses.

Some generalities: about half of the folks here keep top bar hives rather than “Langs” (Langstroth hives = standard beekeeping equipment, after Langstroth – who invented the movable frame inside the hive 150 years ago). Top bar hives (lots of info on the internet) is a more natural way of keeping bees and it disturbs them less; consequently, they are more gentle, but make less honey. I gradually get it: these folks are more into bees than honey. For them it’s a way of “going back to nature” or bringing nature into their backyard.

This theme is highlighted in the presentation by Corwin and an apprentice, Claire, of Boulder CO. Although he had no experience, Corwin began catching swarms and installing them in top bar hives. He found the bees to be gentle and easy to maintain. He began teaching classes and was overwhelmed by how many were interested. For many, it’s a way to help bees (this was during the time when the plight of bees was in the national media). It is also a way to be an active participant in sustainable living and production (similar to folks gardening and keeping a few chickens). Some had attended local bee club meetings – only to be discouraged by beekeepers discussing products used to treat their hives. This is not what they had in mind. Corwin’s classes rekindled their interest in natural beekeeping and he showed folks how to build top bar hives, catch swarms, and take care of them. After 10 years, they have hived about 350 swarms in top bar hives in people’s backyards. As the number of hives in the area have increased – so have the swarms. They are now expanding into neighboring towns and people in other parts of the country are using this model to establish similar programs. (For more info, see backyardhives.com.)

Another theme: any & all treatments are discouraged and considered detrimental. Ramona gives a fantastic presentation on the intricate relationships and balance between microbes and bees within the hive. Even the so-called “soft” treatments (allowed in certified organic operations, eg acids: formic, oxalic, lactic, & thymol), totally upset the bees, the microbes, and their delicate balance. Dean’s presentation “How to get on the treadmill of no treatment beekeeping” is an overview of how to transition to this ideal.

On Saturday night, Arthur and I talk about organic standards & certification. I’d been preparing myself – sketching notes of what I wanted to say. Whenever I met Dee, she would tease me: “ha, you’ll be up front tonight – we’re gonna roast you!” I tried to be nonchalant “come on – you don’t scare me!” But, truth be told, she did! Arthur had warned me that folks here scoff at organic apiary certification because some products are allowed and they distrust government regulation.

I go first in our session – I want to get it over with. I decide to keep it personal: give a background of how/why I am involved in the organic certification movement. I’m not trying to convince anyone – I want to build bridges. I’m more nervous than I’d realized and cut my presentation short. Arthur is more relaxed and gets into the nitty gritty fairly quickly. He is very knowledgeable about the proposed standards, has all the details at hand and discourses at length. I scan the audience, looking for signs: are folks engaged? interested? Want to talk about different issues? Sometimes I cut Arthur off to call on people who raise their hands – to steer the conversation to what people really want to talk about. Summary: we have an informative and lively discussion.

Two comments after the session bolster my spirits: “hey, I appreciated the way you did build bridges – just like you said in your introduction”; and next morning Ramona says: “I could tell you really wanted the discussion to go well – I get that you don’t like conflict and work hard at getting to a smooth place – and you did!”

The conference ends at noon on Sunday. The last half hour, Sam entertains us with his humorous tunes on his ukulele – mostly about bees & beekeepers. It’s a great way to end.

Arthur & I leave immediately to go back to our inspector’s gig to attend our annual meeting. After that, we drive to Dee’s ranch. The tradition: after the conference, some folks crash at Dee’s place for anywhere up to a week – to see her operation and continue networking. I expected about 5 – but there were at least 15! People sleep in guest rooms, couches, and some of us on the floor. It’s fun getting to know people better and hear their stories.

Next morning it’s chilly and threatening to rain. No weather to go see bees – instead, Dee shows us how to make propolis capsules and gives us a tour of her honey house – it’s a large scale operation with old timey equipment.

Ruminations:

• I’m humbled: our farm has been organic for more than 30 years and been certified for 20. I’ve kept bees for 30 years – the folks at this conference are more “organic” than I am – in the sense that they practice and spread the word that NO treatment beekeeping is possible.
• Many of the beekeepers in this movement are more into bees than honey – I feel ambivalent here:  I want to believe that my first priority are the bees; however, we are also a commercial farm and part of our mission is to demonstrate how to make a living from the land – which includes selling honey. Then there is Dee – she started this group and is dependent on bees for her income.
• Organic vs organic certification. I’d like these folks to be involved in discussions re certification standards but there is little/no incentive for them – in fact, they scoff at the current proposed standards.
• This group’s enthusiasm and love of bees is infectious & inspiring; it’s part of a larger sustainable and green movement.

The energy feels like community building: it’s an intimate group and we are a small minority (David vs Goliath). It reminds me of the organic gardening/farming movement 20-30

FYI:  two of us beekeepers at Sandhill will be teaching a one day course on bees – see http://milkweedmercantile.blogspot.com/2010/03/joy-of-beekeeping-honey-and-hives-for.html

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.

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.

The photo shows us spreading the compost from Roy’s piles in one of our fields: we drive the truck (with trailer) into a field on frozen ground (although we are in the midst of a January thaw) and then slinging the compost as far as we can with a shovel. We keep moving the truck forward until we have the field covered or we run out of compost. How much fertility do we add this way? Compared to conventional (and also some organic) farming inputs, the amount of material we add is very small – but it’s what we can do and we feel good about the product.

The tricky part is waiting until the ground is frozen, we have the time/energy, and the snow is not too deep. Hey! it beats going to the gym to get my exercise!