Rick's Blog

consider the lilies...

9/5/2020

To my son:

I read the Rolling Stone article you shared on the "End of the American Era." Very sobering--but in my view, "spot on" and a message important for every American to hear and contemplate.

Troubling as our times are, the author correctly recognizes that change has always been a constant, and also that the human species is capable of adaptation. Most important, he reveals for us the critical tenants for meaningful human existence and a healthy life: grounded values, social bonds, shared community, sense of place, family, and the power of Love.

The end of American dominance in the world is not the worst that can happen to us--our family has been preparing for this for some time. We, as individuals and as a nation, will just have to learn how to live more like the Canadians and the Danes.

I Love you,

Dad

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THE PANDEMIC EXPERIENCE AND THE CLIMATE CRISIS

7/13/2020

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Like the climate crisis, the current Covid-19 pandemic is a global crisis that threatens the entire world community. Although some populations have proven to be more vulnerable to the virus than others—the elderly, the sick, the poor—no individual is immune. National boundaries have not proven to be a protection against infection. In less than six months the virus has pervaded nearly every human community on earth. Millions of people continue to become infected and hundreds of thousands continue to die.

Despite the fact that approximately 1 person of every 25 infected with Covid-19 will die, some people foolishly and irresponsibly discount the threat. They refuse to cooperate with—or even ridicule—the recommendations of health experts and medical scientists, exacerbating the spread of the disease. As we wait for a vaccine and effective therapeutic interventions, more of us will die –many unnecessarily—due to denial, inadequate preparation, and lack of appropriate response.

The global climate crisis, on the other hand, will impact us ALL. No one can hope to be spared from global warming by “playing the odds.” There will be no vaccine or therapy to protect individuals and communities, and as has been said, “There is no planet B.” We have already gambled too long in debate over the reality of the imminent danger. We can only hope to SAVE the one planet we share and the human community it supports before it is too late.

Limiting the proportions and outcomes of both global crises will depend on leadership and collective action. We must acknowledge the present dangers, heed the recommendations of experts and scientists, and act NOW. Viable solutions need to be big and lasting—which means bipartisan legislation and global cooperation. In the coming elections, vote for responsible leadership that will support cooperative science-based action at home and abroad.

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LIVING IN PANDEMIC TIMES BEYOND THE SIDEWALKS

7/5/2020

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The present covid pandemic grinds on, disrupting lives with its travel restrictions, school and business closures, job losses, social isolation, uncertainty and fears. As much as I am concerned for the physical and economic health of family, friends, and community, I am concerned for our mental and spiritual health as well.

Janet and I are doing as fine as any have a right to expect in the current situation. The decision we made many years ago to pursue a rural life and livelihood is now paying dividends. Yes, we get frustrated with the imposition of "self quarantine" and the necessity of "social distancing," but we are so fortunate to have open space, a degree of self-sufficiency, our family close, and no end of interesting activity to share. It must be especially difficult for urban dwellers with limited means living in in tight spaces.

I have been "reborn" in the garden this year. I figure that if we are going to have an economic depression, it should not be a reason for starvation! We planted the biggest garden we have had in several seasons, with more of all the essentials and including some vegetable crops we haven't grown in years. I spend a part (often a large part) of every day in the garden. Gardening is wonderful therapy--especially in times like these--for restoring optimism and faith. Martin Luther, once asked what he would do if he knew with certainty that the world would end tomorrow, responded that he would plant an apple tree.

My youngest grandson and his mother began a watermelon plant from seed in a flower pot at home and we transplanted it into Grandma and Grandpa's garden at planting time. Its progress is the first business Oscar excitedly attends to upon arriving at the farm. A tiny yellow flower the vine arrived with has already developed into a softball sized fruit, and now several more are forming. He also helped Grandpa plant the onions, taking the left over sets home so that he could teach his parents what he had learned that day.

Business-wise, our farm is implementing a "pandemic plan:" The biggest change for this year is that we will not pack any bulkbox fruit. Like the meat packing industry, berry packing work involves long hours, indoors, shoulder-to-shoulder across a moving belt from other workers. We just felt we couldn't guarantee worker health and safety. We will hire some help to pick into pints in the field and offer this fruit with minimal sorting as fresh ready-picked berries at the farm. It is unlikely we will freeze anything. Even if we could strategize a plan for worker-safe berry packing, a poll of our commercial bulk berry customers (we sell a lot into schools and restaurants) indicates that they are not likely to renew their inventories of frozen fruit until they can open again.

We expect to be able to offer a safe experience for Pick-Your-Own blueberry and raspberry customers. The activity is, afterall, outside and our fields are large--no reason to crowd. Jon has constructed an outdoor checkout booth in front of our sales shop with a plexiglass barrier between customer and cash register. Despite a lot of winter bush damage from the heavy snows in November, the crop is looking pretty good after spring pruning and clean-up. Our strawberry-growing colleagues on the hill have reported large turnouts of pickers for their harvest now in progress. We become more optimistic for the blueberry harvest as the 2020 season draws near.

Hopefully by summer 2021 there will be a covid vaccine as well as therapeutic interventions and a degree of restored normalcy to our social interactions. We are all well here--healthy, content, and secure for the time being--but eager for the day when we will be to be able to safely socialize again in a wider world.

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lessons for american beekeepers from slovenia

5/12/2020

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TIME magazine recently ran an article on beekeeping in Slovenia suggesting that the solutions for global honeybee maladies had been found. It's interesting, but old news within the industry--and only a partial description of a much more complex reality. It's always interesting to me (if I should have some expertise and experience on a topic) to to see what some twice-removed journalist does with the details and facts of a story they report.

Like for instance, suggesting that American beekeepers should follow the example of Slovenian beekeepers and work with "native honeybees," because native honeybees will be better adapted to the North American climatic conditions in which they evolved. Problem is, there are no native American honeybees! All Apis Mellifera (honeybee) races evolved in Europe and western Asia and were introduced into the Americas by arriving European colonists.

Or, suggesting that neonicotinoid pesticides are the cause of diminishing bee colonies in the world, which science supports--in part--but is apt point out that the problem is more complex than this single factor. Loss of habitat, climate change, air pollution, global trade, spread of once localized bee diseases and parasites all play a role. Once again, the inference is that if its "organic" its better or safer. The irony here is that neonicotinoids are organic--developed in response to public outcry for organic solutions to food production issues!

Slovenia: small, land-locked, and fortressed high in the Alps is a pretty pristine place--I've been there--it's beautiful. Ljubljana is a fairytale-city complete with its castle on a high bluff in the middle of the old medieval town--It's where, as legend has it, St. George slayed the dragon. Honey is a big deal there, and there are a lot of Slovenian beekeepers. Lucky for them that they have such perfect conditions for production AND their own native Carniolan honey bee.

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A Thank You letter to curt

4/2/2020

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Thank you for sending the video, "Look and See: A portrait of Wendell Berry." I watched it again the other evening and was reminded: His "vision" was so instrumental in the choices and decisions we made so many years ago to settle at Bayfield. Looking back, the experience has not been utopic--"its hardship is its possibility"--as he tells us in verse from his poem Worksong: a Vision. But for the most part, when I look at my kids for who they have become, and our farm for what has been accomplished, and this place--this community--which has become the heart of our life together, I know I am indebted to Wendell for his eloquent sharing of that vision.

Now we are being tested. I don't expect in the present crisis that a majority will reconsider Wendell's call to return to agrarian values--but for those who already have, and for those who might, there are lessons and examples for life and hope. I spent yesterday with my son Chris in the sugarbush soaking up equinox sun, boiling sap, sharing conversation, surrounded by the beauty of a forest waking to a new season, Our relationship was enriched and I can only feel joy and gratitude.

As we come into this new season, prospects for the farm are clouded. A crushing snow cover (more than 50 inches in November alone!) has resulted in a lot of apparent bush damage. The crop may be light. With the present virus pandemic, will we be able to hire sufficient help? Will our markets return? Schools and restaurants are closed and likely will be for a while longer--will they be ready to receive new inventories of frozen berries? People are fearful and many are suffering financially--will they turn out to pick our berries this summer? It is all very uncertain. But our debts are small, our family bonds are strong, and our values won't have us demanding more than our need. We have plans for a larger garden, the seed is in hand--and we have each other.

Hope you and yours are well.

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Loss

2/19/2020

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I lost a very good friend recently--suddenly and unexpectedly from a heart attack. Bill Beyer and I had been close since college and had shared a lot of personal experience over the years: Luther college, Hothorpe Hall in England, Upward Bound work, canoe trips, winter camping, travel, and in recent years a partnership in a maple syrup venture on our family farm. He was a frequent presence in our home, and to my kids growing up more of an "uncle" than either of my brothers. With the exhale of a breath he is gone.

Life is ephemeral and close friendships are precious. I will miss Bill immensely. This and other recent and imminent deaths have thinned my circle of closest friends. It is a condition of the stage of life I have entered. I am reminded to reach out to those I care about and to those who care for me.

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santa's workshop

12/11/2019

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This past summer I convinced Janet to help me sort out, or get rid of, more than 40 years of clutter that had accumulated in our basement. My plan was to convert the newly reclaimed space as my home workshop.

There has always been a "workshop" on the farm. but it had always been just that: the farm workshop. When my kids returned as adults to take over the farm operation, the lines blurred as to which tools were Dad's and which belonged to the farm. Organizational styles and disciplines also changed. In the early years I knew where to look for a needed tool. Generally they could be found "hanging up" right where I kept them. In recent years my frustration became finding the tool I needed for even for the simplest of household tasks. The required tool might be found in any one of seven farm buildings or riding around in someone's truck. Often, after an exhaustive search, the tool when found was worn, dull, or in other ways marginalized from long use (and sometimes abuse.)

Beyond a desire for convenience and a need to organize and upgrade my tools, I also was inspired by a new vision for a workshop. Now that I am retired, I have time to putter, and "puttering" requires a special space with special tools. My day for major construction projects is past. I don't require "job site" capacity tools. My new home shop is being equipped with downsized tools appropriate for smaller projects. I am also a grandfather with three young grandsons who might benefit from having an alternative activity to computer games, Ipads, and smart phones.

My youngest grandson, Oscar age 5, chose for us to make a birdhouse for his Moms' Christmas present this season. Together we did an Internet search to select a do-able design and find a pattern. Oscar measured all the parts. Grandpa cut them out on the power-saw, Oscar drilled the holes on the drill press and nailed the birdhouse together. He selected colors (which required a trip with Grandpa to the hardware store) and did the painting. We just finished it after school last night--well in time for Christmas morning.

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paradise lost

11/17/2019

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In 1966, when I was a young man living in rural England working with post-war East-European exiles and more recent Iron-Curtain refugees, I remember visiting Stonehenge with a Finnish colleague on a weekend day off. At that time Stonehenge appeared on the wind swept plains of Salisbury in Wiltshire as it must have looked for 5,000 years. There were no fences, large parking lots, admission fees, or interpretive center. Sheep were "mowing the grass" among the stone monuments. A congenial, uniformed, white haired, civil servant, kept watch from a small "guard house" near a tiny graveled car park. He offered us tea. As the only visitors that Sunday afternoon, we freely wandered the site, climbed the stones, took pictures of each other as "sacrifice" on what was believed to be a Druid alter, and pondered the prehistoric past of that iconic place.

This year, Janet and I spent the first two weeks of October island hopping in the Aegean. Having studied classical languages and culture in college, I was eager to visit the ancient sites of Greek mythology and the origins of Western civilization. We had planned our trip to coincide with the end of the tourist season in hopes of avoiding crowds. The weather was pleasant. The antiquities and museums were spectacular. Everything we had come to see was there... but our experience was soured by the fact that there are simply too many people travelling these days. The most popular destinations of Europe and many other parts of the world (not unlike our own National Parks) are being "loved to death."

The islands of Mykonos and Santorini were particularly overrun by tourists. Huge multi-storied cruise ships anchor in the harbors--three to six at a time--and disgorge 3,000 to 5,000 visitors per ship per day into the narrow streets of the island villages. At Mykonos the beaches, seaside restaurants, bars, and clubs are the attraction, It has become a party town with a capital "P". At Santorini it's the post-card scenic cliff-side villages of Fira and Oia that draw the crowds. The shops of the town centers (many owned by the cruise lines) sell high-end fashion, jewelry. leather accessories, art, and little else. We were told that local resources and infrastructure were being overwhelmed. I used to think that the glut of tourists visiting popular European destinations were largely from the USA, but in today's Europe, Americans have been joined by increasing numbers from Russia, India, China, Japan, Australia. and Europe itself. There are archaeological and cultural sites worth visiting, but you are advised to arrive early and still you will wait in line.

In present times, more than one million people every year visit Stonehenge. The sheep are gone, as is the elderly civil servant. Tour buses clog a huge parking lot. People wait in line for entry. Barriers keep the crowds back from the monuments. Of course, there is an interpretive center. Admission in 2019 was $27.00 per adult or $71.00 for a family pass.

I have lost a lot of my zest for international travel in recent years. Yes, I'm older and tire more quickly, and it must be said that air travel just isn't fun anymore. But more than that, I must consider my own contribution to the "crowds" I find so oppressive. The "carbon footprint" of international tourism must be horrendous! A good friend at coffee the other day commented that the single thing that an individual can do to positively affect the current climate crisis is to give up air travel. He may be right. I might be close to that decision.

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Visitors come from god

7/8/2019

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The peoples of the Caucasus have a saying: "Visitors come from God." They have survived for millennia in their crossroads of the world practicing hospitality. Traders, crusaders, and invaders have all traversed their mountain passes. Explorers, adventurers, pilgrims, tourists, and refugees continue to knock at their door. Mother Georgia stands astride Mtatsminda above Tbilisi with a sword in one hand, while offering a bowl of wine in the other.

Following a morning working in the garden and a light lunch on the porch, I had just laid down for a "cat nap" when there was a knock at my door. A dark smiling face asked if we were open--they (I could see five others who had come with him) were interested in wine. My son is the wine maker, I explained, and he doesn't keep regular hours for his "tasting room" until the berry harvest, but I could open the wine shop for you to make a purchase if you would like.

As we walked together to the shop we became acquainted. They were three middle aged couples, all originally from India--but having lived and worked professionally for several years in Milwaukee where they had all met. Two doctors, a chemical engineer, a business consultant, and two teachers. They comprised a "book club" and were celebrating their 100th shared book by making this trip together to Bayfield, a place they had never been before. "It is a beautiful day," I said, "and if you would be interested, I would enjoy giving you a tour of our farm." They would like that--but would I have time for them? "Visitors come from God," I responded.

We stood by the Farmland Protection monument in the shaded picnic area across from the shop as I shared with them our family history regarding our decision to settle near Bayfield, to make a home, raise a family, and establish a farm business. They were interested in it all, asking many questions, and sharing relevant stories from their own experiences. We walked the path that begins behind the house, through the forest, first to the bee yard and then on through the sugar bush to the maple syrup shed--pausing along the way to talk about bees, honey, the trees of the forest, and the making of maple syrup. Out of the forest and onto the fields, the questions and conversation turned to berry farming in all of its detail. Two hours later we were back at the shop where they each purchased wine and honey to take home.

Pictures were taken. Appreciation was expressed by both sides, Warm hand shakes were shared. "This was the best experience we have had on our trip to Bayfield and the Apostle Islands!" one of the visitors expressed.

"Your visit was the best part of my day," I returned.

We parted as new-found friends.

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Appalachian Spring and the Dalai lama

3/18/2019

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Dear Paul,

This morning--a late winter day--or early spring day (I guess it could be either)--as the sun sparkled on the deep drifts of snow still outside my window, I was listening to Copland's Appalachian Spring, as I read the bio-oped that appeared in a recent issue of TIME regarding the Dalai Lama. Both Copland and the Dali Lama caused me to think of you. I first had my attention drawn to Appalachian Spring during an early visit Janet and I made to your first home in Marquette years ago. You had it playing as we sat in your front room listening and talking before breakfast--I went right out and bought a recording. It has since become one of my very favorite compositions.

Last spring, Janet and I made the opportunity to drive the length of the Appalachian Blue Ridge Parkway from Great Smokey Mountains National Park to Harper's Ferry. We were too early for the Rhododendron (and the multitude of tourists that go with them!) but the Dogwood and the Eastern Redbud were in full splendor.

Likewise, it was you who introduced me to meditation. Although I have not as yet become a faithful practitioner, I have been witness to the impact that meditation and Buddhism have had on you--my good and long time friend. The TIME article moved me. I hope that you have read it--or will. That the Dalai Lama has been able to find such inner peace and balance despite the violence, turbulence, injustice, exile, and seeming hopelessness for his cause experienced these last six decades is a powerful testament to his faith--and an example to all who are touched by him.

Yesterday, we were able to begin our maple syrup season. Our day was calm with clear sky, perfect temperature, and sunshine. Jake and I got started about noon and had a hundred taps in before breaking for lunch about 1:30 PM. Chris, Magdalen, Jen, and Oscar, together with two people who had been on the morning dog sled run (one being a former field hand from 20 years ago), descended on us as we were ending our break. Everybody got involved--we had drills and sleds enough to equip three tapping teams--and the remaining taps were in before 4:00 PM. Even four-year-old Oscar enjoyed pushing a sled with bag hangers for one of the teams. The afternoon ended with cookies, beer, and high spirits on the bench, stumps, and rocking chairs behind the sugar house--enjoying the company, the dogs, and the equinox sun.

Today we expect a heavy sap flow and we may be boiling before the day is through. This will go on now for about a month. We'd love it if you and ZZ could get over for a night or two to share the experience with us.

Rick

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consider the lilies...

THE PANDEMIC EXPERIENCE AND THE CLIMATE CRISIS

LIVING IN PANDEMIC TIMES BEYOND THE SIDEWALKS

lessons for american beekeepers from slovenia

A Thank You letter to curt

Loss

santa's workshop

paradise lost

Visitors come from god

Appalachian Spring and the Dalai lama

Rick Dale

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