Dreaming Farming, Talking Farming

St. Joseph's College-Standish, Maine

We are still in deep winter. Iowa temperatures are expected be down again tonight. We have snow and ice, icicles and slush. What better time to think of farming?

Since working on the Alice Waters biography, Alice Waters and the Trip to Delicious, and reading about Edible Schoolyards I have been on the lookout for school farms. The experience of planting seeds and growing food, of tending livestock is as strange as space travel to many kids. School farms offer a whole new realm of education.

Today I want to share a school farm--Pearson's Town Farm, which is part of St. Joseph's College in Maine. Students are not required to work on the farm, but St. Joseph's does place a high value on service learning so work on the farm is encouraged.

I interviewed farm manager Michial Russell and want to share that interview with you over a couple of blog posts.

Michial Russell

1. What would you guess is the  percentage of students that have previous experience with growing vegetables or caring for livestock?

Answering this very unscientifically with 'data' collected from conversations with students as they spend time at the farm I would estimate that about one quarter of the students have had some form of a family garden growing up. Closer to one third have memories of their grandparents having a vegetable garden.

The number of students with 'livestock' is on the rise with many local municipalities adopting ordinances allowing residents to own limited sized flocks of chickens. Many student's parents now have flocks of six or fewer birds that they are keeping at home for egg production.

In the last two years I have had two dozen students, give or take, who have either worked on a farm with livestock as a summer job or own and board their own horses.

2.What are most popular jobs with livestock? in the gardens?

As you can imagine, working with the livestock is much more popular that working in the fields. Still there are those students who enjoy the quite nature of being outside. In the field the top two jobs are the transplanting of seedlings, and harvesting of vegetables. Students get excited about the food coming out of the kitchen when they can identify that they planted or harvested some or all of the ingredients in the dish.

Working with livestock varies. Different students tend toward different animals. Our rabbits have the largest draw with the goats coming in a very close second. The rabbits provide a certain therapeutic service that makes cleaning and tending to them less undesirable, though I don't know that I would refer to their maintenance as a job.
As far as 'jobs' go lambing/kidding is hands down the most popular actual work especially among the nursing students. Often times we merely watch the labor and delivery process helping out with the neonatal care. Drying off the lambs/kids, post-delivery clean up, weights and measurements, and bottle feeding of orphaned lambs/kids are the most talked about activities. Every year we have one or two lambs that have to be assisted out and this is a coveted activity.

The goats are very, very personable. Much like puppies, the goats develop unique personalities and students often bond with one or two out of the herd. It is not uncommon to have students come over to the farm to take the goats out for walks on leashes either around the farm or on the trails behind the farm. Every now and again we will have brave students who take them over to the main campus for a stroll.


3. What are least popular jobs with livestock? in the gardens?

The cleaning of stalls tends to be the least popular. I say 'tends to' because we always have a handful of students who not only don't mind doing it, but they volunteer to do it. In the garden weeding is hands down the least popular followed by operating the walk behind tiller.

I love the notion of a college student walking a goat around campus. Sounds like a great stress reducer. Just having a place to go to do physical work, to let one's brain rest and tend a goat or pull a weed also sounds great. (And of course our brains never really do rest. I read just today that the "idle" brain is firing more neurons than the conscious part of our brain.)

In the next installment we'll hear how students are changed by the experience of working on the farm and/or walking goats on campus. [All photos courtesy of St. Joseph's College]

Happy 150th Birthday Wilson Bentley!

Today, Wilson Bentley's birthday, seems a good time to resume these conversations. Life jumps in every now and then and just makes demands, but it's good to be back, and good to be honoring Wilson Bentley.

He was born February 9, 1965. This is the 150th anniversary of his birth. It was no doubt cold and drafty in that Vermont farmhouse when the baby boy was wrapped and welcomed. But I'll bet he loved winter from the very beginning.

And on his birthday it's fun to think of children who now know about his snowflake photographs and think of him when it snows.  I recently received a batch of letters from kids here in Iowa:

"I like the way that Wilson Bentley was so interested in snowflakes because I am interested in snowflakes."

"I liked your book because I love snowflakes..."

"I love snow."

Here's another view of Wilson Bentley. The video includes photos of Bentley that I've never seen before and remarks by a gracious and interesting woman who actually knew him.

Though I have known his story for decades now, it is still awesome to me that he took over 5000 photographs of snow in his lifetime--not for fame, not for money, not even for approval (his neighbors thought he was odd) but because he thought they were beautiful and wanted to share that beauty.

Thanks Wilson Bentley! And happy birthday!

Grass roof, hands-on, flying with kids in DesMoines

I spent today with about one hundred and fifty fifth graders in Des Moines at the Hands-On Book Fest, sponsored by the Des Moines Rotary Club.

The kids all received a back pack with a paperback book and a notebook and pencil. And they learned about braille books, a short history of book-making, printing (with a real printing press), illustration, paper-making. In the session with me we talked about where writers get ideas--from our families ("my grandma came from far away to make her life in Iowa;" "my brother is afraid of snakes"); from what we wish we could do ("fly," "go to Hawaii," "be invisible"). All those ideas could be great stories--and so could the others I heard.  As I drove home I decided I can't be pessimistic about the future when I see kids who are so open to discussion, to being engaged, to imagining flying.  I hope some of them will spend the weekend reading their new books and writing about flying or invisibility, or an adventure in Adventureland.

When I went to observe the braille book area I learned that five of my books are printed in Braille. And that was a thrill!

Snowflake Bentley in Braille

raised snowflakes in the Braille edition

The students were given a handout of the Braille alphabet. They wrote their names in Braille and made relief pictures, such as the snowflakes on the right, that are in the Braille edition of Snowflake Bentley.













Now for some Thanks:
 -to DeAnn Thompson of the Des Moines Rotary Club who let me know exactly where I needed to be and when--and who gave me a very cool book-fest t-shirt
 -to Richard Early, Executive Director of the Des Moines Symphony, also a Rotary Club member, who drove me to the event and back to my car with stops to check out the Des Moines Public Library's grass roof as well as a Des Moines restaurant--Hoq--which sources 90% of the food used in its meals locally.

Library's grass roof as seen through a window in the former Masonic temple, home of the DesMoines Symphony.

It's all connected--stories about what we are passionate about such as schoolyard gardens, locally-sourced foods, urban farmers like Farmer Will Allen, libraries with grass roofs and greening urban areas, kids in urban areas who have ideas who want to share them, kids who want to fly.

I surely hope they will.  I'll be thinking of them and rooting for them.  And if flying is possible today's Hands On Book Fest will make it more likely.

A Visit from E.L. Konigsburg

One of the joys of re-organizing is finding things that have been tucked somewhere for so long that we have forgotten we ever had them.  It’s like finding something new and wonderful—a birthday present in the back of the closet, re-wrapped.

 Re-organizing my bookshelves is how I happened to find “The Mask Beneath the Face,” a talk that E.L. Konigsburg gave in 1989 to authors, publishers, editors, illustrators, reviewers, librarians and potential authors. I loved this talk when I first read it years ago. I still love it. Matters of the heart do not change by the decade.  And I’m so glad to have rediscovered this talk at just this time.  In this election season I have despaired at the mucky, appeal-to-our-basest-nature quality in some political ads—and the fact these ads seem to  work so well.  And I have asked myself what can I do? What can any writer contribute to building a more thoughtful, more thinking culture.  

Then E.L. Konigsburg stepped into my study and said, “Listen up.”

In this talk she focuses on masks, the masks that we wear to both conceal and reveal our true natures.  She noted that masks are especially useful to writers: “…we use our characters as masks. Wearing masks is what writers do, and the masks that one assumes as a writer … reveal; they conceal; they exaggerate, and they do it all for the sake of getting at some truth that is often seen but not fully understood.”   I couldn’t agree more.  Our characters, whether we are making them up or telling the stories of real lives, don’t usually carry signs, but they carry meaning.  The meaning in those characters (masks) is the meaning we hope to hand over to readers as they journey with our characters.

But the really important mask is the one each of us constructs to represent “the ghost of our childhood.” Konigsburg says that every one of these masks is covered with a lacy web of dreams—“Dreams of what we will see. Dreams of what we will be.”  And she says that is why the work of the writer is so important. “Those of us who write for children must give them a variety of masks to try on, and we must write rich and deep so that they can choose what materials they want for the body of that mask. And we must provide threads of many colors to let them weave the web of fantasies to lay over its surface.”

Toward the end of the talk Konigsburg says “If I can write all the nation’s children’s books, I don’t care who writes its laws.”  To me she said, “Stop moping about changing the culture. Just write better.”   Instead of emptying the ocean with a teaspoon, I should be thinking about reaching one reader, writing a book that gets into the heart and mind of just one reader.  That is work enough (and goal enough). It requires going into my writing space each day and closing the door on thoughts about commerce, thoughts about what reviewers will say, thoughts about others who would be writing this story better.  It means bearing down, taking chances—writing it wrong, and writing it again.

It was a great visit.  I hope she comes back.

Talking about writing in a farming town--my town

Last week I returned to my home town in Maine and to the school that has the same name as my high school, though not the same building, Leavitt Institute.  I came as a guest to talk about writing with high school students who live in the Androscoggin Valley.  It was an honor and a thought-provoking experience to go back to where I had learned of Caesar, Shakespeare, the Pythagorean Theorem. I glanced around, hoping to see my wonderful mentors. And I think they must have been there.

The Androscoggin Valley has been a farming area for almost three hundred years. There aren't as many farms now as in the fifties and sixties when I was growing up. But there are enough for students to be writing their own picture books about farm equipment, goats and sheep, apple orchards, and veterinary clinics.  We talked about books people have written about farms, about who tells the story. Even a barn can tell the story--as in the wonderful book by Debby Atwell. We talked about opening lines and recalled that E.B. White wrote four opening lines before he got to, "Where's Papa going with that axe?"

I realized, in talking to various high school classes those two days last week, how much is on the line when any of us writes. And perhaps more is on the line when high schoolers write. Those of us who've been doing it for a while realize we don't always do it right. I think high schoolers may expect that they are supposed to write it right from the very first word.  I hope I set them straight--or at least a little closer to straight.

I had the pleasure of spending some time with one of my best friends from my growing up years--Sharon Hathaway, who has taught at the high school long enough to have quite a number of former students who remember her classes fondly.

Right now she is teaching a class on the agriculture of the Androscoggin Valley and hers are the students writing about goats and sheep, farm equipment, apple orchards.  And her students maintain a school vegetable garden and memorial garden.

        

It was good to spend a few hours with her.

And I was glad to meet Leavitt school librarian, Judith Lashman, who has one of the most beautiful libraries I have ever seen--with plenty of books, and plenty of chairs to sit in to read those books, and plenty of windows where readers can look up and see trees.

I ran into a couple of other friends in that library, friends from Hamline. Ron Koertge's new book Coaltown Jesus was prominently displayed, as was Gene Yang's  Boxers and Saints.

I've thought a lot about writing over the past decades and wanted to share so much with these students, some of whom probably don't think too much about writing, and some of whom may, but how to condense all those years of trying and failing, trying and occasionally failing better?

What I finally ending up saying was that it was important find what they loved in the place they lived, to write about what they cared about and that they should not expect to write it right the first time, they should give themselves permission to write it wrong.

Androscoggin River

California: Spending a Week at Delicious

Back from a wonderful week in California, I hardly know where to begin. Should I tell you about the wonderful food? Should I tell you about the book party at Edible Schoolyard? Should I tell you about the great kids at LeConte School?

Well, one can never go wrong starting with the kids. And LeConte School has great kids. We talked about writing about lives and how we look for stories when we want to tell about a person's life. And they had stories about grandparents and axe accidents, Moms and Dads who had adventures of all kinds.  We also talked about how writers hardly ever write it right the first time. I always want kids to know that writers have to work at it. It's too easy to think if one is a writer, there's no effort. It just flows out of the pen. (!!) And we talked about saving memories in a journal or a memory box made out of a cereal box.

LeConte School has its own farmer, Farmer Ben, who brought in a bowl of LeConte figs to share. The LeConte school garden is one of the oldest school gardens in Berkeley. As you can see, they hold classes in the garden, and kids learn with Farmer Ben about growing and preparing good food.

Farmer Ben, who also did the drawings.

(l to r)Becca Todd, District Lib. Coordinator, Berkeley Schools,  me, Estella Cisneros, Librarian, LeConte School

Of course I also want to share the Edible Schoolyard at the Martin Luther King Jr. Middle School in Berkeley. It is a wonderful spot, a sanctuary made of vegetables and fruit trees and flowers, where kids come to learn about planting and growing all kinds of food.  There are even chickens!

While we were there, a volunteer who is a high-schooler came to work. He said he volunteered here because he loved this place when he was in middle school. And we loved it, too.  Philip and June Lee of Readers to Eaters and publishers of Alice Waters and the trip to Delicious, Anne Ylvisaker, Christy Hale, Kathy Pryor and I wished we had had such a place attached to our middle schools.

It was the perfect place for a book party. What a treat to meet so many committed librarians, some of whom were located in the Bay Area, some of whom were in town for the ALSC conference taking place in Oakland. I was glad to see Vaunda Micheaux Nelson, author of many books for kids, including No Crystal Stair, sitting on a straw bale not far from me. And there were others--librarians who are also teaching kids about seeds and gardening and good food.  And of course there was Alice Waters! After all the research, the reading, the writing, the revising, it was pure pleasure to see her in our circle of food and book lovers and hear her tell us of her firm belief that all kids deserve to eat good, healthy food and her work to make that belief a reality.

Richard McCarthy, Exec. Dir of Slow Food USA and Alice Waters

l to r. Philip Lee, Alice Waters, June Jo Lee, Christy Hale, me, Kathy Pryor

There was more--a reading at the Berkeley Farmers' Market on Shattuck Avenue, two (!!) wonderful meals at Chez Panisse. 

It was an unforgettable week, for a person who loves good food, who loves books, and who loves talking about food, stories, and books.  Thanks Philip and June Lee for arranging all of these events in Alice Waters' back yard. What better place to talk about delicious.

reading Alice Waters' story on her street

dessert at Chez Panisse

Now, for a little bit about flatbread, cooked and eaten right here in Iowa,
because some of you asked--

A little explanation for those who did not ask. This week I made a new bread--Moroccan Flatbread-- and took it to a gathering of writers. I promised to share the procedure.  The recipe is from Healthy Bread in Five Minutes a Day.
The link will connect you to the master recipe. Once you have the master recipe, you can store it in your refrigerator for up to two weeks. When you are ready to bake the flatbread cut off a piece about the size of a large apple. I let it sit on the cutting board for 20 minutes. Then I shaped it into a ball and rolled it out to 1/4-1/8 inch thick and spread with this mix: 1 tsp. cumin, 1tsp. paprika, tsp. turmuric, 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper, 2 T. olive oil. Roll up like a jelly roll. Then coil that roll, sort of like a snail shell. Let rest for 20 minutes. When ready to cook, roll out the bread to 1/4 inch thick. Heat a 12 inch cast iron frying pan, add 2 T. olive oil. When the oil is hot but not smoking put the flatbread into the pan. Cook for about two minutes on each side. Remove from pan and sprinkle kosher salt on the top.

Forgetting the weeds

Okay. There are weeds in the yard taller than me. There are several stacks of books on the floor in my study that would be a lot more comfortable on a shelf. We can't find the bill from the plumber who installed our new kitchen faucet.  And I don't even want to talk about upstairs. So there's plenty to do, but there is something about this blank space that is calling..

September seems to be a season of gratitudes. As  summer winds down and we head into a long cold spell, with not too much light, every sunny day seems like a gift.

So here are some things that I am grateful for today:

1. Gorgeous cherry tomatoes from Laura Krouse's Abbe Hills Farm.

I'm going to save a few for a salad tonight and roast the others in the oven with garlic and olive oil and save them for those cold days.

2. That my brother-in-law Ron is home and doing well.
3. That my granddaughter Evelyn gets to take her medicine with chocolate frosting. And that Owen has so far avoided the need for medicine this fall.

Owen and Evelyn in June

4. That Alice Waters and the Trip to Delicious turned out to be such a beautiful book (thanks Hayelin Choi for those lovely illustrations and Philip Lee of Readers to Eaters for all your care with the book!) and I get to go to California next week for a book party at the Edible Schoolyard in Berkeley. It's Wednesday, September 17 from 2:00 to 4:00 p.m. I'll also be visiting with the students at the LeConte School on Thursday. We'll be talking about the fun of stories and good food and writing about lives. On Thursday afternoon Philip and June Lee, Anne Ylvisiker and I will be at the Berkeley Farmers Market on Shattuck Avenue. On Saturday we get to go to Book Passage in SanFrancisco.  Finally Saturday afternoon at 4:00 I'll be reading the book at the Claremont Branch of the Berkeley Public Library.  I hope whoever is in the Bay Area and reads this will be able to come to one--or more--of these events.

5. That my granddaughter Ella is enrolled in a wonderful Spanish language immersion school in Chicago. And that Jonah hardly ever falls off his scooter.

 

Jonah and Ella

6. That Rich and I saw a Belted Kingfisher this morning.

7. There's more--family in Maine, who are eating succotash they grew themselves, playing with dogs, reading Middlemarch; writing friends here in Iowa and all over the country who keep me going when I'm not sure about where I'm going. You know who you are.

8. Finally, I guess it's enough that the sun came up once more, and we get to try again to be present in the world, rough and roiling and beautiful as it is.