Stress Dreams

As I took a few moments to identify potential "throwback" posts for Thursdays, I ran into this one from June of 2020.   As is usually the case, I run these throwbacks through another edit, and sometimes I update them. 

Everyone has a "favorite" set of stress dreams that come to visit when things are feeling a bit out of control.  The most common one I've heard other people share is being somewhere with a bunch of people and suddenly realizing that you are naked.  A close second is the one where you realize that there is a class that you were supposed to be attending, but somehow you have missed all of the classes and today is the final (there are several variations of this one, but the gist is the same).

All the way back when this blog was 'new' I shared a stress dream featuring our turkeys (among other things).  I can actually still visualize that one and it still makes me shake my head with both sympathy and amusement.

For me, the two most common themes that appear when I am stressed and dreaming are:

1.  the impending storm
2.  being responsible for teaching others and having things go wrong so that people eventually leave/disappear or stop listening

I have had the first stress dream semi-frequently for most of my life.  Once we started farming, this really became my 'go to' stress dream because I really do have a concern for and strong connections with the weather.  Typically these dreams start going bad by featuring a tornado.  But, my tired brain doesn't know restraint.  By the time I notice there is not just one, but three or more tornadoes, I get a clue that it IS just a dream and I wake up.

I even caught myself saying out loud, "you can't fool me -  you're just a dream."  Happily, Tammy is a sound sleeper most of the time, so I don't think she caught that one.

 

The second dream used to occur frequently when I was teaching college courses.  It would often feature markers that wouldn't write, uncontrolled distractions that pulled attention away from everyone or... most horribly... my own lack of focus as I try to figure out exactly WHAT was so important that I tell everyone in the first place.  

 

These are usually a bit harder to identify because my brain is a bit more creative AND restrained at the same time.  It selects events that are plausible (and perhaps have evened happened in waking hours) and these dreams usually last until I get so frustrated that I wake up out of spite.

My newest stress dream featured lettuce.

Yep.  Lettuce.

I was having all kinds of trouble with the lettuce crop.  I planted the wrong seed.  I planted the right lettuce seed, but they turned into zinnias.  Then, I kept stepping on the lettuce plants as I reached down to harvest them.  And, of course, there was the scene(s) where I just couldn't find them.

I know I planted those around here SOMEWHERE!

The deer ate them.  The rabbits ate them.  The slugs ate them.  Some men drove up in an unmarked van, ripped them out of the ground... and ate them.  They didn't pay for them either.

The nerve.

But, I woke up at the point where I realized the lettuce I was about to harvest was shrinking or growing backwards towards seedling stage.  I've got to hand it to my brain, this was one of the more entertaining stress dreams I've had in a while.  I seem to recall recognizing it for what it was well before I woke up all the way.  In fact, I think there was a thought somewhere along the lines of ..

"Wow!  I wonder what I'll dream up next!"

Here's hoping that, if you must have a stress dream, it will be at least half as entertaining as this one was.  Have a great day everyone!

Popcorn and Peer Mentorship

There is a bag of Blue Gate popcorn sitting in our kitchen.  I was thinking that maybe I should put it away, but I decided not to because it reminded me of some people who have been "game changers" for us and our farm for some time now.  It made me feel good to know that they care enough about our well-being to listen when we need someone to hear, be there when we need someone to be present, and provide skilled hands when our own are not sufficient to the task.

And the beauty of this arrangement is that we are always willing to do the same for them.

BGF, Scattergood & GFF

The Genuine Faux Farm (our farm) has participated in this group since the beginning, along with Blue Gate Farm and Scattergood Friends School Farm.  Our good friends at the former Grinnell Heritage Farm have since moved to Virginia to manage a farm there, but they are still very much an important part of our group.  And our friend that once ran Wabi Sabi Farm has also moved to another job, but is always welcome too!

Prior to formalizing this group, we periodically ran into each other at Practical Farmers of Iowa conferences or events.  During one of those conferences some of us discussed how isolated we felt most of the year - especially during those moments when our farms required so much of us.  A proposal was made that the entire group would visit each farm once during the growing season (one per month).  We would provide skilled hands for two to three hours and then we would all share a meal.

 

It ended up being the best farming decision we made for the Genuine Faux Farm.

GHF now in VA

 

This past Sunday, our group of friends came to the Genuine Faux Farm to help us try to get a foothold on our 2023 growing season.  Some of our group were there in spirit, but distances were too great to attend physically.  Life changes, but friendships endure.

In any event, the popcorn still sits out where we can see it because it reminds us that our friends were just here.  And that has value, as does the work they did during their brief, but appreciated visit.

While we are still far behind where we wanted to be at this time in our planting, we now  see hope that we can make progress.  We were both unsure that anything could get better at this point, but now we think we might be able to make some things happen.  We needed our friends to ground us a bit and give us a boost.

And they did.

 

A few years ago, I read that some folks call this a "peer mentorship" model.  We entered into the relationship with different strengths and weaknesses, but we all had some commonality in what we were trying to accomplish.  It's been a joy to watch ideas move from one farm to the next, getting manipulated to fit a slightly different operation.  Sometimes the idea takes root and becomes a mainstay.  Other times, it keeps getting altered as situations change.  But it is still evidence of respect and a shared desire to improve.

 

Whether you want to call this peer mentorship or not, it works for us and these farms.  We hope that you, too, can find your trusted peers.

 

Have a good remainder of your day and a fine week to come!

Catering to the Kitty

Bree, also known as the "Zoom Meeting Cat," an "Indoor Farm Supervisors," and sometimes referenced as our "Bree LF" (for those that might know that CS Lewis reference), has been on our minds a lot recently.  Since her sister passed on last year, Bree has continued to get thinner.  We're pretty sure it isn't because she misses her sister as they weren't the best of friends all the time anyway.

She has become less interested in her favorite toys and she has taken to having wheezing fits.  But, she is still quite personable with us and she still purrs when we give her the skritches and attention she so richly deserves.

In any event, things were to the point that we felt a vet appointment was necessary, so I went and got the carrier. The carrier is not usually a welcomed sight because it means a trip in the car - not Bree's favorite activity. 

This time I just happened to grab the carrier that was the same one Bree and Hobnob occupied when they came home to live at the Genuine Faux Farm.  And, as I often, but don't always, do, I set the cage down with the door open so Bree could inspect it.  Usually what follows is feigned indifference followed by an attempt to leave before the human can pick her up and put her in the carrier.

This time, Bree, after checking around the perimeter, walked right in.  So, I shut the door - more than a bit surprised - and not surprised at all.

Our instincts matched Bree's.  Something was wrong and we were all at a point where we needed to get answers.

The people at the veterinarian's office were kind and listened carefully as we discussed what was going on.  Not terribly interested in food.  Low energy.  Less interested in things that had interested her before.  Even her "meows" were quieter - as if they took too much energy sometimes.  And since both Tammy and I had recently been through the process of not feeling well, we could relate and empathize.

A quick x-ray confirmed issues in the lungs.  Probably issues that will not go away.  But, the current strategy is to give her some medications (always fun with a cat) and see if it clears some things out and gives her a chance to be a bit happier for a while.  We're trying numerous other ways to entice her to eat and we're making sure she gets all of the kind words and skritches she might possibly want.

So far, catering to the kitty seems to be working.  Still not eating much.  Still not interested in playing.  But the eyes are clearer and the wheezing has become less frequent.  We'll take it.

While it is unlikely that this will result in long-term physical healing, the mental healing for the cat and for the humans has been good.  And, we're giving her that chance to discover that this is something that can clear up.  And today, she has an opportunity to enjoy a nice sun puddle on a cool day.

Now that's catering to the kitty!

Bucking Tradition

Tammy likes peonies.  So, we have some peonies.  Some people like them, others don't.  That's just the way peonies are.  I recall that Mom doesn't like them, probably because of the ants that like to crawl all over the unopened blooms.  I spent a couple of summers making sure to mow down the peony plant that kept trying to grow next to our front door sidewalk.

Eventually, it did give up.

In Iowa, you can find peonies, some decades old, at most farmhouses and at many homes in small towns.  They tend to bloom around Memorial Day and they can be quite beautiful to look at.

Unless tradition is followed.

The tradition, as I saw it for much of my life, was that peonies would just approach peak bloom and we'd have a storm of some kind.  That storm would beat those flowers to pieces and that would be it.  Until next year.

We've been bucking that tradition for a few years running.  This year, we simply broke tradition by not having ANY rain.  And the peonies looked quite beautiful.  

While I am not saying I don't want any rain, I will agree that it's nice to give the peonies a chance to look good every so often.

It makes Tammy happy, so that's a good thing.  Right?

That Doesn't Seem Fair - Postal History Sunday

Welcome again (or maybe for the first time) to Postal History Sunday!  Take a moment of time to read about something different and maybe learn something new.  Stuff those worries in the cookie jar for a little bit and make sure you take some cookies out to enjoy while you read.

This week I am going to write about a topic that I often find myself explaining to other postal historians who do not share my specific area of interest.  Now, before you think this will be 'too much,' I can assure you that if you have read any of the other Postal History Sunday posts, this one won't get any more into the weeds than those.  You're going to do just fine.  

Now, if you're worried because you ARE a postal historian and you think this will be boring because it will be too simple...  I guess that's your call!  But, I bet I can find something interesting for you before we reach the end. 

This week's "attention getter"

I'm just going to put this envelope right at the top of the blog.  For those of you who are into postal history or philately, you probably already have some level of appreciation for this item.  And, if you don't know anything about postal history, let me point out to you that there are FIVE twenty-four cent stamps on this letter paying $1.20 in postage.

The letter shown above was mailed in 1864 from Champlain, NY, to Dundee, Scotland.  The cost at the time was 24 cents for a simple letter that weighed no more than 1/2 ounce.  OR, if it weighed more than a half ounce, the cost was 48 cents per ounce.  So, this letter must have had some weight to it.  

But that's not the big reason this envelope is interesting to me.  You see, this letter did not have enough postage to pay what was owed.  The agreement between the US and the United Kingdom was written in such a way that if something was not fully prepaid, it was treated as if it was not paid at all.  As a result, the recipient had to pay the full postage due (6 shillings) and the $1.20 essentially became a gift to the US Post Office.

How could that possibly happen?  That's what today's Postal History Sunday is all about!

Sending a letter to England

This next envelope was mailed in 1862 from Boston to London, England.  This was a simple letter, meaning it did not weigh more than the amount allowed for the first increment of weight (1/2 ounce).  As we would expect, there is a single 24-cent stamp paying that postage.  

Today, in the United States, it costs 63 cents to mail a letter that weighs no more than one ounce in weight.  It costs $1.45 to mail a simple letter (a letter that weighs no more than one ounce) to Scotland in today's mail. So, if you're thinking, "Wow.  It sure does seem like it cost a fair bit to send a letter to England in 1862."  You would be correct.

In fact, the letter rate actually decreased to 12 cents in 1868 and was reduced further to six cents not long after.  By the time we get to the days of the General Postal Union (1875), that price was 5 cents!

To make the point that postage rates declined rapidly after the 1860s, shown above is a simple letter that was mailed from Utica, New York, to Huddersfield, England.  The postage stamp covered the cost of postage - two cents - in 1916. 

As one of my college math professors was fond of saying....  "But, I digress...."  

Getting back to the 1860s.  The twenty-four cents of postage was split into three pieces:

• 5 cents was kept by the United States for their internal mail service
• 16 cents were paid to the sailing company that carried the letter across the Atlantic
• 3 cents were kept by the British for their internal mail service.

The wild card here was that some sailing companies had contracts with the British and some had contracts with the U.S.  It actually mattered which ship carried this letter because it determined which mail service got 16 cents worth of the postage so they could pay the shipping line.

The US Post Office sold the stamp for 24 cents to the customer, who put it on the envelope to show that they had paid for the service.  This letter went via a British packet (steamship), which means the British needed 19 cents (16 + 3) to pay for their part of the services needed to get the mail to the Reverend A.P. Putnam in London.  If you look at the Boston postal marking, you can see "19 Paid" which recognized that 19 cents were to be passed on to the British postal services.

What if it weighed more than a half ounce?

Well, 24 cents would not cover the cost of mailing that item - of course!

remember, you can click on an image to see a larger version

Here is a larger envelope that must have been more than a half ounce, but no more than one ounce in weight.  It was mailed from Chicago to Shaftsbury, England.   Two, 24-cent stamps were placed on the envelope to pay 48 cents in postage.  This letter was sent via a steamship that had a contract with the United States, so only 6 cents was passed to the British.  If you look at the left side of the envelope, you can see a red marking that reads "6 cents" with the word "cents" in an arc below the number.

Below is a summary of the rate table for mail from the US to the United Kingdom from 1849 through 1867.

You might notice that the rate of postage was not 24 cents per 1/2 ounce.   It might be better to think of the 24 cent rate as a special rate for very light mail.  The actual rate might more accurately be said to be 48 cents per ounce.

But, wait a minute - did I say that the letter above was mailed from Chicago?  How did I know that?  The clue lies with that "6 cents" marking I was talking about earlier.

One of the magic powers postal historians develop over time is the ability to recognize certain markings and understand where they came from.  The "6 Cents" marking was used in Chicago to show that the British got 6 cents out of the 48 cents in postage.  There is a similar, more commonly found "3 Cents" marking used for letters that were a half-ounce or less in weight.

Here is an example of a simple letter that was mailed from Chicago.  The blue postmark at the top rigth reads "Chicago, Ills" and we can see a "3 cents" marking that looks a lot like the "6 cent" mark on the other envelope.  Shown below is another example blown up so you can see the details.

Letters that went through the Chicago exchange office in the 1860s were typically sent to either Quebec or Portland, Maine so they could get aboard an Allan Line ship.  The Allan Line had a contract to carry mail with the United States, so the British only got 3 cents and the United States kept 19 cents so they could use 16 cents to pay the cost of trans-Atlantic carriage.

But, what if they didn't pay enough?

People didn't always get the postage right - so there had to be some sort of an agreement to determine how "short paid" letters would be handled.  For example, the letter below (from 1867) has a single 24 cent stamp on it - but it must have weighed more than a half ounce, so it needed 48 cents in postage.

The New York foreign mail exchange office placed a "Short Paid" marking on the envelope and used black ink for their circular marking (the one that has a "42" in it).  The interesting thing is that this letter must have caused the postmaster some trouble because there is a red marking just to the right of it that indicated it was paid.

You can guess how that might happen.  The clerk was going through a pile of letters, stamping them with the red paid marking and got into the rhythm of the work.  He hit this one with the handstamp and then said "hmmmmm."  Weighed it out and realized his instincts were correct - so he put the "short paid" and the black circular marking on the envelope.

The British Post Office agreed with this assessment and wrote the squiggle on the envelope that is a 2 with a squiggly tail.  This was their way of saying the recipient owed 2 shillings for the privilege of receiving this letter.  The envelope contained a death announcement, which is indicated by the black border.  I have a suspicion most people would have found a way to pay the 2 shillings in this case.

How much was 2 shillings in US money?  48 cents.  

The agreement between the United States and the British at this time was that a letter that was not paid in full would be treated as COMPLETELY UNPAID.  Well, that's one way to make a death announcement sting a bit more.  The sender spent 24 cents to send it and the recipient had to pay the equivalent of 48 cents to receive it.  Ugh!

It could be worse!

The letter below has 72 cents in postage applied to it AND the recipient had to pay 4 shillings (equal to 96 cents) to receive it.

This larger envelope must have weighed more than one ounce, so it would require more postage.  So, let's remind ourselves of the postal agreement rates:

Oh... yeah.  It isn't 24 cents per 1/2 ounce - it's 48 cents per ounce once you get to things heavier than a half ounce.  But, that's not what everyone understood when they mailed things.  After all, if you wanted to send a letter inside of the United States it was 3 cents for EVERY 1/2 ounce.  It would be natural to expect a rate to a foreign country to follow the same pattern - and that's what the sender of this envelope expected when they put three 24-cent postage stamps on this large envelope.

The letter must have weighed over one ounce and up to 1 1/2 ounces.  They figured 72 cents was correct if you had 24 cents per 1/2 ounce.  But, they were wrong - which means the letter was Short Paid.  Which means it is treated as UNpaid.  

Ugh again!

Oh my goodness!

And all of that brings us back to our original item.  If you thought the prior letter recipient was being treated poorly, what about poor Mr. Robert Stiver of Dundee, Scotland?   He had to pay 6 shillings for this item sent in the mail to him.

You can guess what happened here.  The sender expected that five 24 cent stamps would pay for a letter that weighed no more than five 1/2 ounce increments.  In other words, the letter weighed over 2 ounces but not more than 2 1/2 ounces, so they figured it should require 5 times the 24 cent rate per half ounce.  

Sadly, the rate REALLY WAS 48 cents per ounce, despite what the general public might think.  The letter weighed more than 2 ounces and no more than three ounces - so it needed $1.44 instead of the $1.20 affixed to the envelope.

The clerk in the New York exchange office, recognized that this was not enough postage and they struck this letter (badly) with a "short paid" marking to alert the receive exchange office in Scotland.  Perhaps a good way to think of this is to consider that the outside surfaces of a mailed letter could be used so postal clerks could send messages to their counterparts at future stops.

But, not every marking was perfectly clear - just like some people's handwriting can be nearly impossible to read.  That's why there were regulations that included directives for ink colors.  The color red typically indicated that a letter was prepaid and black would be an alert that postage would be due.

The New York exchange office marking was applied in black, which also told clerks who would handle this letter later that it was NOT considered paid, despite the postage stamps clearly visible on the envelope.  It is a bit difficult to read because it was placed over the Champlain, New York postmark.

But, this leaves us with the issue of how much of the postage goes to the United States and how much goes to the United Kingdom!  That's where this number comes in:

This number was supplied by the New York exchange office and it represents 126 cents (or $1.26).  In other words, the United States expected that, once the letter was delivered in Scotland, the postal carrier would collect six shillings (equal to $1.44).  The British post would keep only 18 cents (9 pence) and it would send the rest (5 shillings and 3 pence) to the United States.

From the United States Post Office's perspective, they did pretty well with this letter.  Someone had already paid them for the $1.20 in postage stamps, but none of that postage effectively paid for any services.  Then, the US Post Office received an additional $1.26 from the British to pay for the services the US provided.

If you don't think that seems fair, consider how Mr. Stiver must have felt when the postal carrier pointed at this marking on the envelope:

That's squiggle represented 6 shillings due. 

I sure hope the content of this envelope was worth every penny!

How or why could they do this?

It would be tempting to leave you thinking that the postal services were deliberately stealing money from postal patrons with this process.  But, that's not exactly what was going on here.  Postal services around the world were still trying to get people to move from a system where postage was collected on delivery to one that had services prepaid by the sender.  One of the best ways to do this was to make people pay more when they failed to prepay.

The prior system, where letters were paid at delivery, opened the door for postal services to carry mail all the way to their destination only to have the recipient decline to pay.  Of course, the letter would not be delivered in that case.  But the post had done all the work and gotten no compensation for it.

Relief!

We will close with a letter that was mailed from Boston to London in June of 1866.  There are three 24-cent stamps paying 72 cents in postage.  But, this letter has red exchange markings and the word "Paid" shows prominently in the messages mail clerks were sending to each other on the envelope.

If we learned anything from all of the prior items I've shown, it was that an odd number of 24-cent stamps (other than a single stamp) was going to result in some unhappy recipients as they ended up paying the full postage just to open the letter.

On April 1, 1866, the postal rate from the US to the United Kingdom was altered so that it would be 24 cents PER 1/2 ounce.  Suddenly, these odd multiples that the public seemed to think should be allowed WERE allowed.  It only took 17 years (the treaty became effective in 1849), but some relief was granted to those who were honestly trying to pay the postage yet fell prey to a bad assumption.

The postage rate itself would decline to 12 cents per 1/2 ounce on January 1, 1868.  So, these odd multiples of 24 cent stamps that were accepted as paid are difficult to find.  Once you put this envelope together with the other items in this Postal History Sunday, it makes a pretty good story.

Thanks for joining me.  I am hopeful that you learned something new!  Have a great remainder of the weekend and a good week to come. 

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Postal History Sunday is published each week at both the Genuine Faux Farm blog and the GFF Postal History blog.  If you are interested in prior entries, you can view them, starting with the most recent, at this location. 

Kittenlympics

Having a kitten on the farm is one way to teach you to look for fun in unexpected places.  Murphy has been encouraging the farmers to participate in several sports that we have either forgotten (since the last kitten was on the farm) or we have never known.  I think it is possible Murphy is making some of these up as we go, but she's not confirming nor is she deny anything.

Here are a few of the games we have been involved in thus far:

Falling Leaf Snatch

I was pruning some lower leaves off of some of the pepper plants that are still in pots (but looking very good) and tossing them to the side.  Murphy was nearby (and she almost always IS nearby when we are outside) and decided this had the potential for a competition.  How quickly could she pounce on a leaf after it had hit the ground.

Please note, it is illegal (apparently) to touch the leaf before it gets to the ground.  I found that out when I tried tossing a leaf or two ONTO the kitten.  That earned me a foul and the momentary disdain of the participating kitten.  If you have never been on the receiving end of a kitten's disdain, it is something to behold.  But, behold it quickly, because they'll soon forget it was a thing.

Especially if you just toss another leaf.

Capture the Flag

I think we may have shared this video (or one like it) before.  Let's just say that there is nothing quite like a tile flag to get Murphy in the move for some of her own gymnastics.  At the very least, she'll exercise those neck muscles just trying to follow the flag as it bounces around.

Thus far, Murphy has never captured the flag.  That probably has more to do with the humans than the kitten.  A tile flag is actually on a fairly sturdy wire and if we got it too close it could do a little damage if kitten and tile flag collided.  The purpose here is to go through the motions of trying to follow the path of the flag successfully - something Murphy is a natural at.

Bowling for Kittens

Some of you might remember the snowball version of bowling for kittens.  The hard part was trying to pack snowballs one-handed so you can record a video with a (mostly) broken phone in the other.  Of course, it is June now, so snowballs are not available.  But, the driveway is full of small rocks.

Yes, Murphy will chase rocks.

Sometimes, when she wants to play, I will distract her by tossing a rock further down the drive and she'll dash after it.  She won't grab it and only rarely will touch the rock.  It's more of a chase and then watch to be sure the rock's temporary animation is completed.

Our graveled drive runs to the garage and out to the granary.  We often walk back on the drive after doing some of our chicken chores and Murphy, of course, is often "helping" with said chores.  Tammy was returning from doing some task and decided she wanted to encourage the kitten to stop walking exactly where Tammy wanted to walk.

The solution?  Toss a rock forward and get the kitten to chase.  Once you catch up to the kitten, pick up another rock and repeat the process.

Worked like a charm.

Grand Iris Tour 2023

The Grand Iris Tour at the Genuine Faux Farm is coming to a close for 2023, but we certainly had some wonderful surprises this year as we had less wind and little stormy weather.  As a result, the iris held up beautifully and we still have a fresh bouquet in the house as of this writing (mid week).

I managed to get enough energy and motivation together at the same time to get some photos prior to harvesting the flowers for a bouquet.  But, earlier in the bloom season the best we could do was harvest and enjoy.  You'll notice a few pictures are after they were placed in a vase.

Hey, you work with what you have!

At one point in time I told Tammy that every German Bearded Iris we had was beautiful.  And, yes, I still believe that.  But at the time I think I was more enamored with having an example of every variety we could manage to get to bloom.  

Now, my perspective is different.  There are varieties that I really, REALLY love and I celebrate (possibly more than is warranted for a single flowering plant) each and every time they show me their colors.  The iris shown above (Rare Treat) is one such iris.  It has been with us since we started growing specialized iris (1998).

I still take a moment and gently touch the fuzzy, caterpillar-like beards.  I can't always feel their soft tickle this time of year when the calluses are reforming on my fingers.  But I still try.  And, an iris flower's beauty holds up when you view them up close as well as from a distance.

Since I like to play with different perspectives on things with the camera, I tried to take pictures of portions of a few iris flowers.  I feel like the one shown above is a winner.  I'm not sure that I am as pleased with the next one.  But, I will share it anyway.

The bottom iris leaf is from the iris named "Sing Out," which is also a variety we have cultivated since the beginning.  It's been on the edge of not making it several times - including its first three seasons - so I always take some pleasure in seeing it again.

Sometimes I wonder if we could just go back to that initial fifteen (or so) varieties and just grow a bunch of all of them, would we be happy with what we had?  Certainly, if we were able to grow them well, we would enjoy it. And we would definitely appreciate the blooms every season.

But that question, like so many philosophical questions, is a bit unfair.  We have watched and appreciated so many other varieties since that time so it is almost as if we're being asked to reject all of the other, equally wonderful, flowers.

Would you want to reject this one?

Perhaps the best answer is to say that we will appreciate, enjoy and do our best to care for the flowers we've got.  Maybe, if we find our hearts yearning for an old favorite that no longer graces us with their presence, we could search for a replacement plant somewhere out in the wide world.  I know we have been tempted once or twice to do that, but we never quite get motivated enough to follow through.

That's okay.  While we no longer maintain the "show gardens" of iris we had early on at the Genuine Faux Farm, our iris friends still show up each year.  And we make sure to get out there and give them attention and praise for their efforts.  A few iris even thrive despite our relative neglect for their circumstance.

This year's bloom period has hours, not days, left to it.  I always feel a bit sad when we get to this point and I try to console myself by remembering that these flowers wouldn't feel quite so special if they bloomed year around.  But I don't actually believe what I am saying.  

I probably would find these flowers to be special if I could see them blooming all year.  And that's why I take the pictures.  Then I can share them with you each year and we can all enjoy them together.

Cultivating Thoughts

The seeds are gathered from my experiences and the knowledge I have acquired by reading, listening and experimenting over time.  I am not the source of most of these seeds.  Many of them come from other people.  A significant group of them came from observing the natural world.  But, in most cases I no longer remember where I got them.

But, I plant this diverse set of seeds into the soil of my mind and wonder what the harvest will bring.

I cultivate the seeds I have planted, selecting which young ideas and thoughts will be given time to grow into something that has more meaning.  I honor those I keep by assigning them names and words that identify them and I add to the richness of the soil by arranging and re-arranging these words so they are just right.  Over time, I find many ways I can express what I see in these living things - these ideas - that are beginning to gain strength.

Sometimes, they develop into a weed and I find that I am no longer interested in where they will lead me.  Rarely, I discover one that needs to be aggressively removed.  But, usually, I remain curious about how they will turn out.

So, I cultivate the soil and supplement it with what I discover and how I feel as I work around them.  I select more words that represent these feelings and I begin considering descriptive words that might express how I want things to turn out.

Or maybe how I think things will turn out.

Or how I fear what will be revealed at the harvest.

I harvest the new understandings I raised from seed.  This harvest includes connections to other people, places and things in my world.  I recognize the idea that came from the Meadowlark sitting on the line and the philosophy presented to me as I witnessed a rainstorm.  The fruit over there came from that moment when I saw an angry person stop and apologize rather than continue to place blame.  The flower by my feet came into being when someone else gave a little extra effort to do something well.  The carrots?  Well, we usually don't talk about those.

Some of these are new to me and some are well known.  Sometimes, I enjoy the fruits of this harvest and I consider new words that express my gratitude as well as a longing to do even better.  Occasionally, what I have learned leaves me wondering what there is to be grateful for and I fight to express that disappointment and how I still long to do better.

I look around and I find that there are seeds that come with this harvest.  And I realize there are plants that I do not remember putting into the gardens of my thoughts and they provide seeds as well.

I view the gardens others near me have created and I see other ideas of beauty, kindness and wonder.  Sometimes, they offer me some of their own seeds.   And they surprise me when they ask for some of mine.

Now I have a new batch of seeds.  Some I know well.  Others are entirely new to me.  And still others have an origin story that I have since forgotten. 

So, I plant this diverse set of seeds into the soil of my mind and wonder what the harvest will bring.

Twin Springs - Walk There Again

We all make promises to ourselves that we fail to keep for whatever reason.  Some of these promises are critical to our very being and they can define what and who we are.  Breaking them would result in a personal crisis so we do what we can to succeed in keeping them.  But there are other promises that might qualify more as wishes - things I would like to have happen if life allows - and these are the promises I often fail to keep for myself.

One such promise was to take more "walk there agains" during the Spring.  We did a fine job in the Fall and had plenty of accomplishments to report on while we were at Kauai.  But other parts of life - things like illness and a sense of overwhelm from our jobs and the farm - have taken away the energy we wanted for regular hikes over the past couple of months.  

We took a short trip to the Decorah area because we needed to pick up a bulk order of flour at the Oneota Coop, with whom we have been members starting when we lived there years ago.  It was supposed to be a there and back sort of trip so we could use some energy and get a few farm things done.  Luckily, Tammy made the suggestion that we stop at Twin Springs and interpreted my ambivalence as a "yes."

This was a short hike at a place both of us appreciate very much.  You can learn more about our reasons for liking it in this August 2020 Walk There Again.

One of our first sightings was a Hairy Woodpecker.  You can probably find that bird in the photo above.  Unlike Kip Ladage, we don't have the equipment or skills for a "nature calendar shot" that he is so good at (yes, that is a plug - his daily comments are worth reading and viewing).  So, we take pictures of birds that are more documentation than anything.

Elm trees, on the other hand, are unable to flit, fly, creep, crawl, run, jump or otherwise get away from us as we approach.  So, this elm allowed me to get close enough to take a picture of these leaves.  Both Tammy and I have fond memories of the giant American Elms that graced so many towns in the Midwest as we were growing up.  Dutch Elm disease resulted in the death and removal of most specimens over time - but this appeared to have the leaf structure of an American Elm.

We know that some younger American Elms still exist out there, but they often get to a certain size and then succumb to the disease.  If we identified this one correctly, has it adapted somehow?  It's just one of the things we wonder as we walk.

Since our last walk here was in August, the ground cover in the area was very different this time.  I don't recall seeing Comfrey, probably because the plants were not blooming.  But, there were several specimens near the walking path this time around.  

The Minnesota wildflower site identifies Common Comfrey as a "garden escapee."  In other words, it is not a native wildflower, but it was introduced to the area by gardeners and the plant propagated into wild spaces.  They have a different entry for Wild Comfrey, which is clearly different if you take a look.  The Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden site has a page for Common Comfrey and they also identify it as an introduced plant.  But, the mere implication of its inclusion as a "wildflower" sends some mixed messages.

Well, I won't help much with the mixed messages.  I am often concerned how human actions introduce invasive plants that crowd out and make life difficult for native plants.  On the other hand, you have to ask the question for each invasive about how it performs on a balance.  Common Comfrey is related to borage and is great for pollinators of all sorts and has numerous other good qualities.  No one would mistake Twin Springs as an undisturbed landscape, so maybe it's a positive addition here?  I won't pretend to have the answer, just a lot of questions.

We will hear the song of an American Restart rarely at the Genuine Faux Farm.  The habitat we provide is probably not optimal for this little warbler.  Twin Springs, on the other hand, appears to be perfect.  We heard multiple Redstarts belting out their song as we walked.

Tammy noticed a little bird in the bushes at the base of a larger tree that was busy going about its business.  After sizing us up, it decided we were not a threat and it went through the process of posing for the camera. 

This is an American Redstart and we're thinking it is either a female or an immature male.  It didn't sing or make any scolding noises while we were watching.  But it did spend a fair amount of time foraging in the bushes. 

Periodically, the bird would flare out its tail and flap its wings, showing the bold pattern of yellow and black.  Apparently this bright flash startles the insects that would be the bird's prey.  And, sure enough, as soon as the bird went through this maneuver there was a flurry of foraging behavior. 

There was a sporadic breeze that moved the leaves on the trees in their upper stories, but the air was very calm down where we were.  The Redstarts were chirping away, bumblebees were buzzing and the water burbled and gurgled its way along the stream bed.  We weren't walking terribly fast because we were enjoying what we were seeing in the world around us.

In other words, we were relaxing - and it felt good to do.

As we progressed, we came up on this area where we saw some plants we initially thought might be Wild Phlox, but it turns out they were the invasive plant known as Dame's Rocket.

Wild phlox flowers have five petals and Dame's Rocket has four (see below).  Dame's Rocket originated in Eurasia and it has a long bloom period, which allows it to produce large numbers of seed.  The plants are biennials (starting one year and blooming, producing seed and dying the next) and their success in seed production and a relative lack of natural controls can result in a monoculture (just this type of plant) in areas where it gets established.

Crowding out other plants might be the best reason to not like Dame's Rocket.  Otherwise, they are a decent food source for some of our pollinators - such as Tiger Swallowtails.

It is interesting to note that some states have placed Dame's Rocket on their invasive species list.  Meanwhile, some wildflower seed mixes actually INCLUDE this plant.  I have noticed that many sites suggest that you check the seed list for wildflower and pollinator mixes carefully before you purchase and use them.  Yes, I know.  More work for you.  But, if you really want to do it right, you need to check the seed list in the mix and then check to see if what you're getting is filled with native wildflowers (assuming that was your intent with a wildflower area).

We were also able to observe a Hummingbird Moth / Hawkmoth zipping around the flowers we found in the area.  Clearly, the Dame's Rocket do a good job attracting pollinators, which insures that their high volume of seed production will result in more viable seed for future plants.

And this is why I sometimes struggle with the balance.  It is tempting to equate "invasive" with "completely bad."  But, that's not true.  Both the Comfrey and the Dame's Rocket have some value in the landscape.  I just don't know enough to decide whether the scale is tipped too much one way or the other.

And speaking of struggling with ambivalence - the larval stage of Hummingbird Moths are Hornworms!  Certain types of hornworms can be a real problem for tomato production.  However, we learned over time at the Genuine Faux Farm that, if you have a good, balanced habitat, there are parasites that can help control that population.

And speaking of parasites....

We were able to spot a couple of Black Giant Ichneumon Wasps on a tree during our walk.  These wasps lay their eggs next to the eggs of a Horntail Wasp where their young will parasitize the Horntail larvae.  Horntails typically lay their eggs on trees that are in poor health (which was true in this case).  

So, while the Black Giant Ichneumon Wasp might look a bit threatening from a human's perspective, they actually provide a balance for another wasp that we probably don't want to have a population explosion.  How cool is that?

And, by the way, these wasps have a very long ovipositor (egg laying tube) - note the thread like appendage that curls up and then back down to the surface of the tree.  This wasp was currently laying eggs when we took the photo.  Some people see these wasps and proceed to "freak out" because they have a long "stinger."  No.... sorry.  It's not a stinger and this wasp isn't interested in you at all. It just wants to lay its eggs so they can hatch and live their lives.

And there you have it.  A short and unplanned "walk there again" ended up being a full-fledged learning opportunity.  I think we're just going to have to get back on the hiking bandwagon, don't you?