Today marks eight years since I moved to the farm– my wedding day to Steve and the beautiful, dare I say perfect, reception we had in front of my sister- and brother-in-law’s house.
Back then, there was corn on 17 of our 80 acres, between my brother-in-law Kevin’s pine grove (on the right of photo above) and the subdivision beyond. However, three years ago we took it out of production and Steve and his worker Jeff put it in prairie. I hear them refer to it as “the seventeen.”
It has come in beyond our expectations in terms of resisting weeds and producing a variety of native grasses and flowers. The weeds were probably suppressed by years (decades?) of Round-up and corn cultivation. It was a dairy farmer who grew corn there, and he also injected a lot of manure in the off-season. Whatever it was, that prairie is a beauty, maybe never so much as right now.
In this photo: bergamot, coneflowers, hyssop and more
The queen of the prairie, in my opinion, is the gray-headed coneflower. When she is in bloom, especially in such a large prairie, it is like the scene from The Wizard of Oz with the poppy field, when Dorothy and gang wake up and see the Emerald City and run through a field of flowers. And lucky me, I drive past this field or walk out to it every day and then back to a home which there is no place like. It is impossible to capture in a photo.
But soon, five acres of the seventeen are going to be turned into a road. It makes sense, given development and the plans for more development on the other side of us. Still, it is so sad that this prairie will be cut by a road.
I think we will keep calling it “the seventeen” even though it will be a highly disrupted twelve.
Of course, given the state of my mind and body right now, a road cutting through beauty for practical purposes parallels my thoughts about my upcoming surgery. After 20 weeks without alcohol or sugar or any baked goods (all of which taste foul because of the chemotherapy), I have lost 20 pounds and my body looks particularly good to me! I’m at what for me is an ideal weight. How sad to cut into and scar this body from top to bottom and across when it is in full bloom! And yet, we must be practical! In my case it is a matter of life and death.
For the seventeen, it makes sense. We knew it was coming and can see it makes sense for the city. Why else would Kevin have planted all those pine trees years ago?
our current driveway: corn on one side, grove and 17 on the other
At some point our 80 acres will be the largest plot left open this close to town. The cornfields to the east of us will go– that is what the road gives access to for more development. As for us, we will have prairie.
I have to think the seventeen, very near the area where the greenhouse is located, is responsible for so many boxes being added to the bee operation this summer. A place of buzzing and stings where the beauty of the flowers is transformed into sweet honey.
Can’t get enough…
Oh, sure, sometimes Fred laid her eggs in odd places (like here beneath the rain gutter by the garage door– it’s Easter every day around here). But for a week they could go in and out of the wonderful garden at will. Until someone plugged up that chicken door with what is definitely not chicken wire.
If you read any book on organic gardening, you will find a section on “pests.” And the answers for best treatment of pests are these: 1. if you have good soil, you discourage bugs and diseases; 2. if you keep the weeds down, you will discourage pests; 3. companion plants will discourage pests; 4. if you can’t get the plants healthy enough on their own, bring in beneficial insects or use 
I knew the soil was good– I’ve been working on it for years, and with the help of my friend Kate and my step-daughter Julia, we had planted and then hilled them in a gorgeous mix of yak compost, mushroom compost (chopped straw) and peat. The weeds, yes, they were bad, but not that bad. The cover crop never developed, but the rows of plants themselves weren’t full of weeds. The weather has also been a little crazy, with stretches of torrential rain followed by high temperatures.
We have sprayed it, and now I am treating it with other things. A blood transfusion on Tuesday for the anemia. A Neulasta shot for the WBC count and an ANC near zero. I’m taking BioSil for skin/nails/hair, Vitamin B12 for the neuropathy, and a probiotic to help reproduce good flora in the bowels.
Then I choked down this pan of kale. Seriously.
But this is the core of my life: garden, cooking, work, writing. I try to do some of each every day. Just a little bit. I journal. I look at recipes. And if I make 
A few posts back I had an “acknowledgments” section where I thanked people. Even at the time I knew it was woefully inadequate. I tried to think of people who did very concrete things for me, but there is no way to thank all the people who have supported me with cards, letters, care packages, phone calls, e-mails…
I am so grateful to these three cancer survivors: Mary McDowell, Kim McDonald Butler, and Anne-Marie Hoskinson. I met Mary at speech camp in high school, and we stayed connected a surprisingly long time and reconnected through a mutual friend a few years ago. I met Kim through Grinnell College alumni connections at reunion two years ago. I knew Anne-Marie only slightly at Grinnell when we were there, classmates, though we’ve bonded a lot on Facebook over Minnesota, gardening, cooking, canning, etc.
It is not easy to catch my husband during landscaping season, so this morning after we went on a mushroom compost expedition I had him take a few photos of me in the garden. I was able to pull up some garlic, overgrown radishes, peas, and also the very first green beans before I had to come in and sit down. I had my gloves on so pulled some weeds, too, though not nearly as many as need pulling.
My favorite publication related to the “food revolution” is 
Last weekend, when there was no one on the farm but me, I took a long, slow walk. I went in the greenhouse, still unfinished, and dreamed. There is one pallet left– the fans and electrical system. There is one pallet left– the curtains that will make up the lower level of the greenhouse. Next March, I will be cancer free and I will be planting out there. Next summer.
One thing that I’ll never forget, though, is the support I’ve received. Bussho Lahn, a zen priest I know in the Twin Cities, hearing how I was doing these last few weeks, took the prayer beads off his wrist and had a friend bring them to me. “She needs these more than I do right now,” he said.
Yesterday I posted on Facebook this photo of the first zucchini blossom in my garden. It’s a simple zucchini blossom, in a world where people are already getting more zucchini than they know what to do with. But that photo got 48 likes in a few hours on a holiday weekend. Seriously– that kind of thing brings tears to my eyes. I feel so many people on my side.
Mostly I’ve been viewing things from our lovely screen porch. It’s hard to nap out there with all the diverse bird song (!) but I have a good view of the critters– groundhog, squirrels, chipmunks, deer, hawks, orioles, goldfinches, and now and then that daggum giant rabbit running at top speed across the back of the prairie.
