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lessons for american beekeepers from slovenia

5/12/2020

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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Climate change: A local fruit farmer's perspective

1/14/2019

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As a farmer, I can't help "keeping an eye on the sky" for what the weather will bring. My business, my way of life, my very survival as a farmer, and the future for my children depends on the weather. Whenever the present experience is very far outside of expected norms for very long, for better or for worse, I become nervous. Agriculture depends on the regular cycles, the rhythms, the steady heart-beat of nature for its outcomes.

Weather patterns are changing.  Some who live in this short-summer-season part of the world might even say for the better. It is true that the USDA climate zone rating for our area was changed from zone 4 to zone 5 to reflect this change. We began our blueberry enterprise 40 years ago by planting only the most winter-hardy of northern adapted varieties, but now we can successfully cultivate many of the "industry standard" northern highbush types. In fact, for the last three years our production per acre at Bayfield has out-paced the blueberry production average for Michigan fields.

But, other climate change affects are troubling.  Production has become more challenging as mild winters allow a larger "carry over" of traditional pests and disease. Our climate has become more habitable for a host of new exotic pests arriving annually from Asia and elsewhere: SWD, Marmorated Stink Bug, Japanese Beetle, Lantern Moth, and others on the way. Super-saturated soils from abnormal rainfall amounts exacerbate root-rot diseases. Long periods of wet foliage increase the pressure of fungal leaf, stem, and fruit diseases. Controls are time consuming and costly.

While we have not yet experienced the extreme heat, drought, and wildfires of the West, nor the destructive hurricanes, severe flooding, and rising sea levels of the Gulf and Atlantic states, our mid-continent location near to the Great Lakes has not spared us completely to date. Violent summer storms during the last three years have washed out the major highways that serve our area, each in their turn, closing affected roads for much of the harvest season, 40% of the market for our blueberry crop depends on people being able--or willing--to come to the farm during our harvest. Most of the remainder must be trucked to urban markets. Fresh fruit is perishable. Delays, detours, and rough temporary roads take a toll. Is it unreasonable to expect that we may experience a future season when ALL of the major routes that connect Bayfield to the larger region may be affected at the same time? At the very least, it is simply not sustainable to have to repair or replace major highway infrastructure on an annual basis.

Our climate is changing and life as we have known it will change as well.  How can we respond to slow or mitigate this change? For starters, we must get serious about supporting science-based climate change policy. Immediately, we can ask Representative Duffy to support The Energy Innovation and Carbon Dividend Act (H.R. 7173) which was introduced during the last Congress. How will we adapt to the change already taking place? As communities, we must embrace sustainability, and turn away from "growth economics". As individuals, this will ultimately mean that we must learn to live a meaningful life more simply.

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thanksgiving in the wisconsin northwoods

11/20/2018

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Chris got a buck this morning! At 7:22 AM I woke to three measured shots. As a seasoned guide once said, "One shot--deer. Two shots--maybe deer. Three shots--no deer." Then five minutes later at, 7:27, I heard a single additional shot and I knew he had had success. Sure enough, it wasn't long before he came to the house with a smile on his face and a fresh deer heart in a plastic bag (He knows I like to boil heart with salt, onion and seasonings to make cold-cuts for sandwiches). Although I am sure he could have managed the task on his own, he came seeking help to hang the carcass in our machine shed. Mostly, I think he just needed to share his excitement and joy.

I am really happy for Chris. It has been a long spell of disappointing annual hunts for him. Despite his scouting, preparations, patience, and dedication, this is only the second deer he has harvested--and the only deer he has bagged on the farm. He usually hunts with his sister-in-law, Jen, who has had great success in recent years. Although they had intended to hunt together again this season, Jen backed out at the last minute--too busy training her huskies for an unseasonably early dog-sledding season. Even with Jen not in the woods with him, I am sure Chris hunted with a sense of competition-- he had some catching up to do!

As I write this he is back on his stand attempting to fill his other two tags. Whether or not he gets another deer or two, he will be proudly sharing venison with his extended family this season. Life at the farm is good!

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Reordering priorities

10/1/2018

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Recently I was invited to take part in a new USAID agricultural development mission to Armenia. The position would provide opportunity for another five years of Short Term Technical Assistance (STTA) consultant work in a country I had yet to experience. I considered the offer for three days before responding.
"Will you take it?" Janet asked.
"What has changed since I resigned my last contract in order to retire?" I responded.
I'm still 72 and not getting younger, The travel would still require adjusting to crossing 9 time zones in a 24+ hour period. The work would demand long hours of effort in a challenging environment. I still have three young grandsons that I'd like to spend more time with. There is lots I'm interested to do at home, and Janet and I still desire to do some recreational travel on our own. Tempted though I was, I turned the job down and reaffirmed my retirement.

This summer I re-engaged with the bees. Chris had become the beekeeper at our farm over the past decade as I was so frequently gone on assignment, Chris is also our Production Manager at the farm, which has become an increasingly demanding responsibility. When I offerred to take honey production "off from his plate" for the season, he was grateful. I have always enjoyed the bees. Beekeeping was my hobby before it became a part of my profession. Able to focus on the bees, without the pressure of the other demands of our family farm enterprise, beekeeping became a "hobby" again. Often on warm sunny days I found myself in the bee yard able to work at an unhurried pace--and some days I just relaxed in a lawn chair to observe the hive activity. I was rewarded with with the best honey crop we have experienced in several years.

Saturday, The boys and I returned from Canada and a week-long fishing trip with the three grandsons. I was shocked to realize, and am embarrassed to admit, that none of my grandsons (ages 4, 9, and 11) had ever visited our Canadian wilderness cabin on the fringes of the Quetico Park before now. Even my son Chris, who loves to fish, had not been to the Nym Lake cabin for eleven years! Granted, it's a seven hour drive and a 3 1/2 mile paddle to get there--considrable advance planning and comittment is required--but when my children were young it was an annual family experience. How had I become so distracted?

Although the weather was changeable and cool--lots of rain (even snow)-- bursts of sunshine for two-three hour periods most days allowed us to get on the lake. All the boys caught fish, many of which were released, as there were enough for a fish-fry every evening. Oscar, the four-year old, caught his "first fish"--and his grandpa was there to share the excitement of that important event in his life.

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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

Climate change: A local fruit farmer's perspective

thanksgiving in the wisconsin northwoods

Reordering priorities

Rick Dale

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