I was honored to participate in the Annual Gathering and 40th Year Celebration of the National Family Farm Coalition in St. Louis, Missouri, July 21st to the 24th. Founded in 1986 during the height of the Farm Crisis, I served as Chair of this organization in the early 90s. My role at the gathering was as an “OG”, older generation telling my herstory.

It had been a long time since I had rented a car to strike out on my own on a road trip. A local auto body shop had car rentals, close to home and better than driving to Omaha. A drawback was the car was an older model and didn’t have Bluetooth or a charger for my phone. I did not realize how dependent I am on an app and a cord. Because I was venturing into the unknown, I needed to use the GPS to wind my way to St. Louis. Little did I no how much the app would run down the battery of my phone so I had to stop a couple of times to recharge.

After the gathering, on my way back to Iowa, I stopped to get a charge at a Casey’s General Store in Chillicothe, Missouri. I spied an outlet on a side wall behind the sunglasses and ballcaps. I removed the charger from my purse, set my wallet on the window sill and plugged in. As the current flowed from wall to phone, I took time to catch up with family members. Once the phone was charged, I headed out the door.

I walked to the car passing two people standing outside having a smoke. Two unusual looking people. People I most likely would not see in Atlantic, Iowa.

Me: Hey

Them: Hey

Me: This cool weather is great!

Them: Yep it is.

Unlocking and climbing into the car, my purse felt rather light and I realized I didn’t have my wallet. Panicked, I hurriedly retraced my steps.

Me: Did you see me drop a wallet?

Them: Sorry, we weren’t looking

Me: Damn

Rushing in the door I looked over to the sunglass and ballcap stand and spotted my wallet on the window sill where I had negligently left it. With a sigh of relieve I retrieved my wallet that contained some of the most important documents that defined my life.

Me: Found it!

Them: Glad you did.

Realizing I was in no hurry, a nice thing about this road trip, I asked them if I could take their picture. I loved the bravissimo standing outside a Casey’s in northern Missouri. As I prepared to take their picture, Green Striped Mohawk said, “Let’s do a selfie.”

I asked them if they had been to a concert. Not that I was profiling, but they certainly looked like they were the concert type.

Girls Will Be Girls T-Shirt: Yeah, Sarah McLachlan in Kansas City.

Me: Oh, I really like her music! Lucky you. So, where’s your home?

Green Striped Mohawk: Norfolk.

Me: Whoa, Norfolk, Nebraska? How are you treated there? Are you accepted into the community?

Green Striped Mohawk: I’m a mail carrier and they love me.

Girls Will Be Girls: I cook for older people. They also love me.

Me: That’s so good to hear.

We talked a bit longer about the state of the world and politics. When we parted, I expected them to hop on a Harley and drive up the road. Instead they were driving a modest dark purple sedan. Nothing like their appearance would have me believe.

I asked them their names before we parted.

Green Striped Mohawk: Harmony

Girls Will Be Girls: Jennifer

Me: I’m Denise. Thanks for the conversation. I’m so glad we had this visit.

I finished my Missouri leg of the trip stopping at an orchard to buy some peaches. There were some gigantic blackberries that the manager said I could go pick. Wow! Sweet, delicious and easy to pick.

The road trip was such a freeing experience. I hadn’t been away from my farm on my own for a long while. I listened to regular radio music, sometimes the Christian stations to hear what they had to say, cruising down beautiful sideroads. Road AA, local Missouri roads are alphabetized, suddenly threw me into state of confusion. The curvy, winding road gave me the visual sensation that I was driving in Vermont, a state I lived in long ago. Pasture, trees, rivers, creeks. What an unexpected, lovely gift.

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Beginning with the second administration of the one who shall not be named, I close my emails and texts with - Peace, courage and sanity. An appropriate ending that signifies the times in which we live.

Everyday I try, and I believe most others seek to understand, how we got in this mess and how do we get out of this dark time in our history. One needs courage and sanity to maintain resistance to the evil that is violently inflicted on our citizenry. It’s wearisome reading or hearing the daily assaults committed by the thugs who attempting to destroy our fragile democracy.

I am luckier than most. My farm is my refuge. I don’t have to travel miles to a park or natural setting. I can forest bathe in my backyard. There is barely any concrete here on the acreage. Some gravel but mostly a green space that our family has created over fifty years. My solace is being embraced by nature. The families before us nurtured this piece of earth and gave it extraordinary love. I am the recipient of that love.

My friend Bob Leonard challenges his subscribers daily, sometimes several times a day, with “This is what my world looks like. What does your world look like?” Bob’s pictures mostly come from his travel to and from his home to other parts of Iowa. I appreciate that Bob is my eyes and ears around Iowa. He, along with other favorite Substack journalists, keep me informed on the state of our state. I value his Cedar Creek posts, that are more aligned with my life.

For several months I have responded to his prompts with pictures of my world. As I look back at my submissions, I realize that his challenge has helped me focus and truly soak in the beauty of the seventeen acres I call home. Has spring been incredibly spectacular this year, or am I paying more attention? Taking daily photos has me seeking out the beauty that surrounds me. I lose track of time photographing all the wonderful bugs and flowers. It takes patience and concentration. Attributes I sorely lack in other parts of my life.

If the world wasn’t in shatters, I believe my life would be peaceful. I catch glimpses of peace when my hands are in the soil, when I am planting seeds that germinate into the living plants that nourish my body and when I watch the insects that are making life happen.

I often use the word privileged to describe my life. I am now in my seventh decade, a white, cisgender person who was born post WWII. Even with a tyrannical father, I lived a decent life as a child. The world turned upside down when, as a teen, I witnessed on television the atrocities against our black brothers and sisters. The Civil Rights Movement awakened me to the world of struggle for peace and dignity.

Words like lucky, fortunate and blessed never adequately describe how I feel about my purpose for being in this place at this time. I understand my role and responsibility to future generations. The work for balance, integrity and safety is ongoing and I am drawn to the work to remedy what currently ails our world.

So for now, I will continue to photograph my daily life in the arms of Mother Nature. Seeking peace, courage and sanity will keep me going.

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Women play a crucial role in agriculture, particularly in developing countries. They are responsible for producing up to 80 percent of the food in these regions. They constitute about 43 percent of the global agricultural labor force.

Fifty years ago, when I became a farmer, I was surprised to find out that most women in on farms identified as farmer’s wives. I was raised in a small rural town in the rolling, Loess hills of southwest Iowa. A few friends lived on farms, but I never considered that farming was an occupation for women. I was a town girl who left at age 17 to explore the wider world. Eventually I returned to my roots, met a handsome farmer guy and did a full body plunge into the world of Iowa agriculture.

I successfully completed a two-year self-imposed apprenticeship to learn every aspect of farming from delivering baby pigs to raking hay in order to become a full fledged organic farmer, not just a farmer’s wife.

Economic and political decisions that included a grain embargo, high interest rates and low commodity prices of the 1970s converged to turn the world of family farming upside down, the Farm Crisis of the 1980s. As my husband and I began farming using organic practices in the late 1970s, we were aware that Secretary of Agriculture, Earl Butz was implementing a disastrous policy of “get bigger or get out”. Policy and technology were changing the face of farming and Butz exacerbated this change by his callous, calculated alignment with agribusiness corporations to destroy the family farm.

The crisis was too widespread to ignore. Our neighbors and community were in real trouble. That’s when I went on the road to work with nonprofits, labor, and churches to assist families in distress. I went to people’s homes, public meetings and protests to do what was necessary to call attention to the destruction of rural Iowa.

As I traveled the dusty gravel roads, it became clear to me that women on the farm were intimately involved with farm operations. They managed the chicken flock that provided eggs and meat for the table that contributed to the farm income. Many were the accountant for the farm, keeping track of money in and money out.

When the debt of the farm became greater than the income, women sounded the alarm. Many farmers did not like what they heard, tried hard to deny it, but the numbers did not lie. When local banks started refusing to roll the the debt over to the next year, men became angry and depressed. The high rate of domestic abuse and suicides document this tragic time in farming history. The long-term effects of this crisis are still felt in many communities today.

Family life patterns on farms changed drastically from the post war decades of the 50s and 60s when families worked as an economic unit, sometimes with cousins, aunts and uncles who lived close by.

The economic insecurity of the Crisis found many women taking jobs in town as teachers, secretaries, sales clerks, and waitresses, usually low paying but their jobs put food on the table. Women were still unrecognized for their economic contribution to stabilize the family farm.

I sat at many kitchen tables and in church basements listening to stories about the tensions created in their once peaceful homes. Stories of having to accept “welfare” in the form of food stamps and how embarrassing that was in small towns when the clerks at the stores were your friends, relatives or neighbors. I also heard about activism, of participating in protests, testifying in Congress and answering crisis hotlines.

It wasn’t until 1993 that I discovered an Economic Research Service (ERS) study that revealed women in the United States owned nearly 50% of the rentable farmland. This study, Women As Agricultural Landowners, What Do We Know About Them? was the most substantial collection of data in my months-long search.

This data was used by Women, Food and Agriculture Network (WFAN) to begin their work in the late 1990s. WFAN sought to identify Iowa women who owned land, where they got their information and how they made decisions about their land.

It wasn’t until 2002 tha the Ag Census started to count multiple partners, including women, but still designated one person as the principal producer. In 2017 changes in the Census enabled families to list multiple members, including women, as active participants in farm management. The purpose in listing multiple members was to capture the roles of women and younger generations more effectively, reflecting their contributions to farming that had previously gone uncounted.

In 2022 the U.S. Census Bureau reported there were 1,139,675 farms operated by female producers. Reportedly 366,741 of the farms ranged in size from 10 to 49 acres (U.S. Census Bureau, Table 57). Many integrated livestock on their farms.

Based on these figures, over 1.2 million women are actively farming across the nation. Despite their growing presence, they remain underrepresented in leadership roles within agriculture. As reported these women operate small, diversified farms, which are often less profitable compared to larger productions. It’s important to recognize that women are not absent from larger-scale operations because of a lack of capability, but rather due to systemic barriers such as limited access to land and ongoing gender-based discrimination.

We need to build a better system that supports small food producing farmers that includes buying from a local farmer at farmer’s markets or joining a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) farm that has boxes of fresh vegetables weekly from spring to winter. We need programs that allow schools and food banks to buy from local farms. In rural areas, growing vegetables is gardening, not farming. Growing food for people to eat is a high priority, and farming is a career that should have a high status. Women grow healthy, nutritious food for the health of their families and their communities.

The nonprofit, FairTrade International supports gender equity, helps the consumer identify fairtrade products and has a list where fairtrade products are sold.

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Research on these monsters has made me a bit skeptical about the sales pitch on the positive effect on climate change. I knew they were touted as a solution to the excess manure generated by mega animal factories and could possibly help the environment. Nina opened my eyes to how little I knew about the financial and environmental impact of this technology .

My husband and I attended FarmAid last fall and participated in workshops and discussions the day before the all day concert. The tradition that precedes the concert incorporates daylong educational and political workshops and panels. A press conference followed by the eclectic music lineup is the focus of the second day.

Morning keynote talks were led by Indigenous Communities that transitioned into afternoon workshops. The “Climate Action and Environmental Justice: Sharing stories from the field” workshop opened my eyes to what was really happening in the world of climate and manure. It was there that I learned about the impact of biodigesters and how carbon credits were being used to mitigate the overproduction of manure in mega dairies in California.

Stories from California and Wisconsin small dairy farmers touched my former dairy farmer heart. The USDA programs that promote climate smart farming can lead to increasing the number of mega factory farms that dot and stink up our countryside. This is greenwashing at the highest level. One problem, according to Cornbelt Confidential, is that farmers taking huge loans struggle to pay back them back with many going bankrupt. Another problem is the over application of the manure on our soils.

According to Michigan State University the number of cows needed for a biodigester to run efficiently depends on the digester size and the amount of manure produced. A digester designed for a 500-cow operation costs about $805 per cow, while a larger 2,000-cow digester reduces the cost to $371 per cow, indicating that more cows can improve efficiency and reduce costs. The bottom line is that mega dairy farms are encouraged to grow putting the smaller farms at risk of going out of business. This fits right into the Earl Butz economic theory of “get bigger or get out.” The numbers allude to efficiency and ignore the stress on the environment.

A couple of weeks after FarmAid, we took a Sunday morning drive to Shelby County, Iowa to test for nitrates in the East and West Nishnabotna Rivers. As we traveled the dusty gravel roads and in the distance high up on a hill, we saw two round white globes that had a geodesic dome like shape. We were on the east side of our fragile Loess hills, hills that are sacred and are victims of the industrial ag model of rape and pillage. As we approached the round structures we noticed an elaborate maze of large hoses snaking across the fields. Diesel generators ran the pumps to move the dairy cow manure over the hilly ground. Tractors drag hoses around the fields to inject the shit into the ground. The cost for this type of disposal must be horrendous!

Although no one was in the field spreading manure that morning, the air was putrid with the smell of thousands of shitting cows. The white blobs turned out to be biodigesters with flames of methane, carbon dioxide, and small amounts of other gases being released into the air. Similar to the stacks that burn off the methane that one sees in Texas oil fields.

Some factory farms have the equipment and employees to do this messy, smelly job. Other animal factories hire it done. Either way, accidents can happen. There was an incident in October 2025 when a certified manure applicator business using this type of distribution system, notified state officials of a 5000 gallon manure rupture that spilled into a tributary of Elk Run Creek in Carroll County. The incident occurred because a hose blew while applying manure from a hog confinement site.

Our next stop was on bottom ground along the West Nishnabotna southwest of the mega dairy. In the field next to the river there was a center pivot irrigation system that spread liquid manure on that ground. We got out our handy dandy equipment to test the water and found the nitrate level registered around 20 ppm, twice as high as the EPA standard of 10ppm.

We tested five spots on the East and West Nishnabotna and Prairie Rose Lake that day and found similar results. Prairie Rose Lake has a reputation of being high in nitrates was the only water that tested okay.

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We will continue to monitor these sites to get an idea of what is happening to our rivers in order to bring justice to our rivers and bodies of water in Iowa. Because the legislature refuses to regulate water contamination or allocate funds for water monitoring, it is up to the citizens of Iowa to test, accumulate data and pressure the policy makers both at the state and national level to enforce the clean up one of our most precious natural resources - water. We must be ever vigilant of the attempts of the corporate capitalists to convince us that they are caring for our environment. Their bottom line is extracting resources to increase their profit at the expense of our earth.

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“I learned that you should hold one in the palm of your hand to feel whether it is firm or gives a bit,” I answered. “If they give a little, they are ripe. If firm they need, to more time to ripen. It’s worked for me.”

“I try to eat organic produce whenever I can,” she stated.

“ Well, thank you for eating organic,” I replied. “I’ve been an organic farmer for fifty years and I appreciate your commitment to clean nutritious food.”

“Organic? Really?” Eyebrows raised, she looked at me in wonderment, like I was from another planet. “Where do you farm?”

“I usually buy my organic products from Costco, but we can’t always make it to Omaha,” she said. “I love organic carrots but they don’t have them here.”

“I farm north of Atlantic and know exactly where you can get some close by. Where are you from?”

“We live in Exira. My name is Grace, by the way, and this is my husband Andy.” she remarked as he came over to join us.

“My friend’s vegetable farm, BrunKo Farm between Elk Horn and Exira. She uses organic practices and has carrots to sell. Winter carrots are wonderfully sweet,” I replied. “She was just elected to the school board in Exira, maybe you know her.”

“Oh, I’m sure we voted for her!” She leaned in to whisper in my ear that she and Andy were Democrats.

This conversation was a gift straight from the produce aisle at our Fareway store. It had been the kind of day that seems to happens too often. Another harried, mind numbing day trying to keep up with the latest atrocities committed by the felon in charge. The unexpected conversation about organic produce, my passion, transitioned into a full fledged political friendship.

Life has presented me with unexpected gifts that occur at the least likely times. Meeting Grace and Andy on that dreary, cold afternoon lifted my spirits as I headed home. We exchanged cell numbers on a piece of paper Grace tore from a small notebook. She included the notation:

I called my farmer friend on the way to share this chance encounter.

“I just had a conversation with a woman and her husband in Fareway about organic produce and told her about you.” I recounted my conversation with Grace and told her that I gave her contact information for her farm.

“Don’t be surprised if you hear from her,” I told her. I could hear her chuckle in the background.

The day before I met Grace and Andy I had been in Clive, Iowa carrying a sign, and flipping the bird at the caravan transporting one of the most awful people alive. This small contribution to democracy felt miniscule compared to what our friends and families are dealing with in Minneapolis and other parts of Minnesota. Participating with thousands of other protesters was encouraging and an affirmation that I was doing the right thing, making good trouble

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According to My Gaia “by 1883 the great birds were gone. They died from unregulated hunting. The birds ingested lead shot while feeding, which poisoned them (and is still poisoning birds today). The draining of wetlands for agriculture destroyed their habitat. Trumpeter Swans no longer bred or lived in Iowa. A few wandered through from time to time, but they did not stay.”

My story is about the success of returning the Trumpeters to Cass County Iowa in the southwest corner of the state. The swans have been counted annually from 1997 to the present in cooperation with the non-game bird program of the Iowa Department of Natural Resources. People dedicated to restoring natural habitat and wildlife have been a gift to Iowa. This state is the least biodiverse state in the nation - unfortunately human domination over nature has been the misguided predominate ideology.

Our family has participated in the annual Cass County Soiree with the Swans much as possible over the past twenty eight years. In 2003 I served on our County Conservation Board and was privileged to help tag this incredible bird. I held several, one at a time of course. I was thrilled when a bird, with it’s ten foot wing span and weight of nearly twenty five pounds, gently wrapped its long neck up and around my neck as the team put a collar on it. Somewhere in all our old photographs there is a picture of this. I hope I find someday.

Our grandchildren have grown up learning about the swans right in their own community. Our County Naturalist shows up on the first Saturday in January with her van full of telescopes, binoculars, cookies, hot chocolate and information sheets.

This past Saturday, fifteen years have passed and our granddaughters were with us again. The morning was sunny, cold and blustery but never fail, there was Miss Lora equipped with everything to have a great morning at the quarry. Every year she updates the information sheets. There have been as many as 241 counted this year. While we were looking through our binoculars she counted approximately 70 to 80.

Over the years we have learned that many swans nest in Union Slough National Wildlife Refuge in Kossuth County Union Slough. This remarkable land form was preserved in 1938 by forward thinking people for the future of waterfowl.

Trumpeter Swans landing on quarry in Atlantic.

Be sure to enlarge this video to get a full grasp of what we watched. On the left near the open water’s edge there are four Bald Eagles two adults and two immature ones. There was also a group a bit right of center. We counted at least ten. Miss Lora informed us that there are six nesting pairs in Cass County, some along the highly polluted East Nishnabotna River. Another reason to be monitoring our water and demanding Iowa clean up our poisoned streams and bodies of water.

What greater pleasure could there be as we stood in awe of the magnificent Trumpeters, the largest waterfowl in North America? To be witnessing and supporting the resilience of nature.

The morning was bittersweet. Here we have one of the largest groupings of Trumpeter Swans in Iowa and after all the effort of our naturalist, very few people show up to see or learn about them. Our local paper had a front page story so it’s not as if people didn’t know about it. Miss Lora sends out notices, puts up flyers and sends press releases to the radio stations. People just don’t seem to care.

I am sad that more are not drawn to explore and learn from the wonders of nature. We are living in a time of high anxiety. An antidote to stress is getting out in nature. There are many lessons for us to learn from being outdoors, one is resilience. Observing waterfowl that has returned from the brink of extinction and survived despite human beings neglect and disrespect is a valuable lesson to take advantage of.

P.S. Our license plates have a Goldfinch and the Wildrose displayed. The extra cost for this is funneled to the DNR’s non-game wildlife program. It’s one way we can support wildlife in Iowa.

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The AI assistant states that “Walking the walk” ‘is an idiomatic expression that means to act in accordance with one’s claims or beliefs, demonstrating commitment through actions rather than just words. It emphasizes the importance of following through on promises or statements made.’

Larry and I have devoted our life to walking the walk.

In November 2023 I posted my third Substack, Strawbale House. It seems so very long ago. At that time we were three years into the project that we consider the capstone of our lives we have dedicated to a healthy planet earth. We fondly call it the balehouse.

Larry knew I was determined not to move in until we had a finished home but after six years of working slowly but surely, never quite completing the build, I caved. My hesitation stemmed from the worry that if we moved in, we would get used to seeing it and neglect the unfinished details.

“It’s time!” I declared.

“Are you sure?” asked a skeptical Larry.

“Yes, I’ve come to realize that if we move we will see the unfinished details everyday and work on them rather than ignore them.”

We picked Winter Solstice as the date to move. The upstairs bathroom was finished so our creature comforts could be met -toilet, bathtub and sink. The induction stove top, convection oven and refrigerator were set in place. Curtains, an assortment of furniture, a couple of chairs Aunt Opal had given us, a table and a bed were put in their temporary places. Surely there would be a lot of rearranging as we settled in.

The day before Thanksgiving we started moving essentials across the farmyard. The balehouse is approximately 150 feet to the east of the 123 year old home that Larry grew up in. Our Colorado family was on their way and we needed extra space. We were ready.

Moving in without finished details has been an okay experience so far. I wake up thrilled by how our new home looks as the sunrises. The curvature of the walls, the way the wood and clay converge and the colors that come into the rooms are a pleasure to my soul. I wander about the 1150 square foot space mesmerized.

The finishing up tasks have been added to my daily to do list. I swear that I will work on them everyday until we have a completed home.

There is beginning to be a pattern established that includes making a cup of my daily Earl Grey tea and sitting at the patio window. The sunrises are beautiful and it’s fun to observe who comes to the bird feeder and suet first. It’s the Juncos.

The toaster, some dinnerware that has been stored in the fruit room of the farmhouse, silverware and various cooking utensils were hauled it across the yard. The yogurt, granola, clementines, raisin bread, butter and eggs followed. Breakfast is now in the balehouse.

The transition continues. There seems to be a reluctance to the move from my spouse. I have been sleeping in the balehouse since Thanksgiving (our bedrooms upstairs in the farmhouse are unheated), he has not. He tells me that he needs to keep the fires going. I try not to take it personally. Afterall, our farmhouse is big and drafty and until we completely move he will keep at least one woodstove fired up (except on those random warm days).

I’m adjusting to the gradual move. The challenge is sorting the accumulation of “stuff” that has filled eleven rooms in our two story household. Our family of five has lived here for forty four years. Shedding our lives of what has been acquired is a monumental task. Items we once thought we needed are now sorted into piles that will be distributed among family, delivered to the local thrift store, taken to the landfill or burned in our burn pit.

Most things have an emotional not a monetary value. It will take being disciplined to stick with sorting and tossing. We do have another storage option, our 60’ x 60’ two story barn across from the house. Somewhere in that overfilled space we can probably find room for a few more items that we can’t bear to part with.

Larry and I have talked about the possibility of holding a Potlatch without appropriating, the tradition of various Northwest and Canadian tribal nations. The Potlatch functioned as a way to redistribute wealth. Perhaps in this horrific time of the concentration of wealth and power in our country, we can set an example. In a way we are redistributing our accumulation of things.

For now we will continue to move a load at a time. By spring we should have risers on our beautiful cedar stairway, the doors on our cupboards, the final layer of lime plaster on the exterior along with finishing the front entryway.

We feel privileged to have the resources to make a home that has been built by friends, and family. The clay plaster on the walls throughout the house was mixed with water, sand and straw with everyone's hands. Yes, it is a labor intensive quest but our days will be lived out in a cozy home with a small ecological footprint.

We dreamed a dream that is becoming a reality. Six years as we continue to move forward for a more livable earth, we contemplate whether we will ever really be done.

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Iowa Cancer Zones Map is an interactive mapping tool of cancer data for 48 cancer reporting zones in the Iowa Cancer Registry. You can map cancer incidence for the 19 most common invasive cancer and filter by sex and race/ethnicity.

Iowa Cancer Zones Map

To say that I am not shocked would be an understatement. When my husband Larry and I started farming in 1976, we took the organic farming path. I had no experience farming but fell in love with a farmer who knew that farming with chemicals was not for him. He did not want to be a corn and bean farmer. He wanted to grow grains and have livestock.

In March of 1976 we started our farming partnership on his mother and father’s land. Land that was historically inhabited and passed through by the Arikara and Pawnee tribes in the 18th century.

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My in-laws were skeptical but willing to support us with our “alternative” agriculture adventure. Larry was influenced by the first Earth Day in 1970 while a student at Iowa State University. In 1971 he subscribed to Organic Gardening Magazine, published by the Rodale Press, when he became interested in gardening and the environment. In the early days of exploring gardening he raised red wriggler worms in the compost in the backyard of the Harris farmstead . To this day he is proud of that moment in time when he became friends with the red wrigglers.

In 1982 we became aware of the Cornucopia Project by the Rodale Center. We were influenced by this project to grow food for local consumption. We dreamed of a time when one could grow tomatoes in a hothouse attached to a power plant by using the residual energy.

So we planted two acres of strawberries, a quarter acre of raspberries, a 25 x 100’ asparagus patch and six acres of apple trees. We used organic practices - it was a helluva lot of work but we were young and ambitious. We marketed our farm as a U-Pick business. We also picked orders for customers.

Our journey into organic agriculture has certainly had its ups and downs. We struggled finding any information. The fact that Larry had grown up on the farm we were living on was a great asset. He grew up knowing the rhythm of the seasons, the daily chores that as a child he was a part of. The diversified farms of the 1950s and 60s had chickens, a milk cow or two, pigs and crop rotation that mostly kept weeds and diseases in check.

As a young newly wed couple, starting out in the world of organics we were alone. Iowa State University was no help at all. We found two farmers in Iowa, one beef and the other dairy. Our journey through this was by our faith in the earth, the teachings of those who came before us and of course Organic Gardening Magazine and Mother Earth News. The Rodale Press Encyclopedia of Composting continues to occupy our book shelf.

Fast forward to the today’s state of affairs in the farming sector of Iowa. The Merriam Webster Dictionary defines agriculture is the practice of cultivating the soil, planting, raising, and harvesting both food and non-food crops, as well as livestock production. Broader definitions also include forestry and aquaculture

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Many farmers know that working with nature, in partnership with soil, insects, plants water and the air is critical to good stewardship. These are the people who truly practices regenerative agriculture. They have a deep understanding of the interdependency of the earth and human beings. It is important to support these farmers and the organizations they belong to.

Agribusiness is defined as an industry or enterprise. The primary goal of agribusiness is to maximize profit while satisfying the consumers for products related to natural resources. Factory farming the land.

Many farmers practice this type of farming. They’ve bought into the American Dream of being independent; the false portrayal, a mythical image of a person being their “own” man. Unfortunately federal policy has reduced these hardworking people to tractor drivers feeding an extractive economy. Farmers use their own capital to plant, spray (or cultivate) and harvest. Some haul their grain to the local elevator or ethanol plant and receive the market price listed that day. Others watch the daily markets to determine when they can sell their commodities in the future for hopefully a higher price. What a freaking gamble!

Many people in the category of tractor drivers are good folks. They care about their family, church and community but Mother Nature has been left out of the equation.

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The bottom line is that the type of farming that has been practiced for the past fifty plus years has now killed the soil and is killing many people. There is no denying. There exists pages and pages of scientific evidence that agro chemicals are deadly to humankind and every living thing.

Why do we have such a high rate of cancers in Iowa? You really want to know why? It’s due in part to the dousing of chemicals we receive from the agri-business model of growing crops. It’s caused by high nitrates in our water that is polluted by nitrogen that is used to grow corn and beans. The high nitrate is also caused by manure from the 24.7 million hogs in our state. Iowa is a monoculture nightmare.

From the report given last week at our county meeting, radon, smoking and alcohol also play a role in cancers in Iowa. Iowa Cancer Registry

There has to be a major shift in how we farm and it has to come from consumers demanding that they have a right to clean water, air and soil. Our state and our nation will continue to protect the corporations that are raping the land until people demand policy and implementation for a clean agriculture.

This country has fallen in a trap that is controlled by the wealthy and the corporations. The profits made by companies that profit by dominating Mother Nature and killing her are immoral and unethical.

It was not possible in this post to include details on obesity. My hope is to write about the in the future. No matter, it is up to us to stop destroying the earth that we depend on for life.

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Today is a big day around the United States. No Kings 2.0 is happening. It is predicted that more than 2500 events are taking place and that more than 10 million people will take to the streets. Possibly the largest national protest in the history of our country.

Some who object to this effort to retain our democracy are involved in a coordinated disinformation campaign to denounce the protesters as haters of our country. Others say the protesters are paid to show up and incite violence. Neither of these statements is true. Lies saturate social and MAGA media that paint a picture of protesting as hating the United States of America.

That is far from the truth. The people on the streets love their country. These folks are family, neighbors, church members and friends expressing their concern. The people who show up to publicly state their views are genuine patriots. Patriotism is not a word or concept owned by the right or the left. To be a patriot is to love your country. Look closely and you observe many proudly displaying the U.S. flag.

According to Factually, the June 2025 No Kings event brought 5 million people in 2,100 cities and towns across our country. Two hundred and fifty people stood on Hwy 6 between Chestnut and Poplar Streets in Atlantic to exercise their freedom of speech.

These events are not led by one person but usually a committee of concerned citizens. Many have never been to a protest. Some of them have been attending protests since the anti-Vietnam days.

There is anxiety throughout our nation about the disregard for the constitution and the rule of law. The norms that we have all grown up with have been tossed out the window to concentrate power in the hands of one man and his cronies. Our country was set up to be a democracy of shared power with checks and balances. Not a monarchy, not a socialist government and certainly not a dictatorship.

A number of people are satisfied with the way things are going in our country. They too have a right to hold a public event that supports their beliefs. The freedom of speech extends to all. That is written in the amendments of the Constitution. You know, that document that our forefathers wrote to create a democracy?

The two protests that have been held in Atlantic have experienced negative and positive responses. People driving by in cars have honked in solidarity. Thumbs up and waving have indicated support.

Others have reacted negatively by saluting with their third finger, spewing black diesel fumes from loud mufflers and yelling nasty epithets to the protesters. That is their right. It’s still called freedom of speech. Standing in defense of speech is something that is dear to all of us. We may not like what we hear or see, but we are protected to say and do what we have on our mind.

The norm of being polite and accepting negative critique has been lost. Unfortunately “us vs them” has infiltrated our daily lives. The result of being hateful towards the people we disagree with fits right into the oligarchs and corporate strategy. Keeping us divided while they create a world where the rich get richer is exactly what they are after. This is not a political party issue. It is a human being issue. It is about how we have been degraded to name calling and displaying nasty body language.

There is no doubt that immigration reform is necessary. The tactics of kidnapping and beating human beings is horrendous. Our government needs to be reformed, there is no doubt. It’s the jackhammer and chain saw approach that is disconcerting. As government is concentrated in fewer hands, we the people lose out. Just like farmers are losing out with concentrated markets, there are fewer choices and prices/rights can be manipulated. Human beings lose.

How can we instill Michael Jackson’s words back into our lives?

We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So, let’s start giving
There’s a choice we’re making
We’re saving our own lives
It’s true we’ll make a better day
Just you and me

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Many artifacts were considered monetarily or emotionally valuable to someone. The 60 x 60’ two story barn is full of horse tack from the 1930s and 40s, bicycles from the 50s, crocks and metal bed frames. Outbuildings are home to lumber, lawnmowers, broken wooden chairs, pails and cans that have the potential of repurposing.

Those who save and reuse have a gold star in my book. Granted, it can go too far. Saving a broken toilet seat from the burn pile or insisting a mangled hydraulic hose was still useable is just too far.

The value of being thrifty has nearly vanished as the Depression era generation continues to pass on. Practicing resourcefulness has been forgotten in our throw away society. It’s easier to patronize the nearest local shop, if there is one. That helps our economy. In lieu of local, it’s probably faster to use technology to purchase that much needed new item from Amazon. Quick, easy, cheap. The disposable society we live in is killing the earth and everyone on it. The culture of being thrifty needs to be restored. The practice being of resourceful is our obligation to our children and grandchildren.

The post WWII babies, the generation that I am a part of, grew up in a prosperous time. As the second oldest of eight children, I learned to be prudent in a time when the middle class was surging forward. Hand-me-downs were the style of the day. Waste was not tolerated. Eat everything on your plate, turn out the lights were commands drilled into us as children. Our parents grew up in time of economic, environmental and political unrest. They taught us to be frugal.

Planned obsolescence was the base of our economy. The philosophy that things could wear out and be easily replaced was based on an infinite supply of raw materials. The need for capitalism to keep producing goods, to create jobs and income has been catastrophic to our earth. The value of being thrifty or resourceful is a faded memory.

I continued to learn the value of frugality when I married into the Harris family. Lessons from my dear father-in-law while out making and repairing fence have stuck with me throughout my farming career. I was his apprentice. He performed the ultimate act of reusing out in the pasture where I witnessed him lay a mashed and bent up three inch staple on top of the fence post, hammer out the kinks and pound it back into the post to tighten the wire.

He would do this when repairing sheds, the chicken house or whatever building needed attention to keep it from falling apart. I learned to look around and utilize what was available to complete my tasks. He taught me that #12 baling wire was a “farmer’s thread”. The wire could hold a piece of machinery together to make it useful again or until it could be welded. I think of him often as I repair something that has broken.

The other day I started out looking for a wood plane to restore the back door. It had been rubbing on the floor when opening or shutting and needed to be fixed.

I searched every tool bench, drawer and shelf throughout the farmyard unable to find that damn tool.

I became distracted as I combed through sheds and shelves. Hidden in the corner of a shelf I found a stash of airmailed letters written by a young soldier to his fiancé relating that he attended church and played cards on Sundays. The man who returned to the farm and married his sweetheart upon completing his service. The platoon he served in built barriers in the Aleutian Islands to keep the Japanese from our shores. His unit also constructed the first of miles of the Al-Can highway.

As I ventured among the outbuildings, the garage, the machine shed, the barn and the north shop – I encountered countless memories of our life and other lives here.

Items of clothing hung in the garage where Lyle, after moving to town changed from his good clothes to his farm clothes in order to begin his routine daily chores. He loved that gold sweater. The moth ridden, dusty clothes are a memorial to his legacy, to his final years on this earth. He passed in 2003.

Next to the clothing hung a children’s straw chair that he had on his to do list. I almost tripped over a small step stool that he lovingly made for his grandchildren to reach the faucets at the bathroom sink. I lost the opportunity to repair it for our grandchildren. They are now teenagers. Heck, I’ll just leave it here and maybe my children will find it when I’m gone and decide to fix it for their grandchildren.

Continuing my mission to find the wood plane, I came across an old tin coffee can that holds our vast inventory of screw drivers. The can sat below a cabinet that had fallen over out in the north machine shed and had been recently moved into our barn. The wooden structure stored nuts, bolts, screws, bent and unbent nails.

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A simple observation led to an aha moment - the screwdrivers from the can would fit well in the pigeon hole cupboard! Immediately I organized the screwdrivers – large straight edged to small straight edged to Phillips. I was pleased with my cleverness. What fun and how rewarding it felt to put things into the old, repurposed cupboard.

I never did find the wood plane that day. No problem. I gave that up and decided to borrow my sister’s. Someday mine will show up when I’m hunting for some other tool. I got lost the memories of past generations, the times they lived through, the Depression, and WWII.

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Hummingbird

This week was a big week for Monarch butterfly migration. The winds blew briskly from the north causing most of us to grab a sweater or jacket but giving the Monarchs a wonderful tailwind. Iowa is in the Central Flyway of the migration in both the spring and the fall. How lucky we are to be a part of this natural phenomenon. With our geographic location in the flyway comes a responsibility of caring for the land and the habitat that pollinators need to thrive.

At our farm there used to be hundreds of Monarchs at this time of the year. Our family would get out the butterfly nets, tags and the Monarch Watch Tagging Datasheet to document them as they flew through our part of the state. The report form is designed to capture the date, the number on the tag placed on the underside of the wing, whether the butterfly was male or female, if it was raised or was wild, location, state, zip code and if it was in the United States or Canada. The trick to netting a butterfly is to sneak up on it as it rests on a leaf or a flower. Trying to snag them mid-air hardly ever works – they are much faster than that net coming towards them. Monarch Migration

Alarms have been sounding about the decreasing number of pollinators of all species. Neonicotinoids (try saying that fast), a pesticide that is a common coating on the seeds we plant in our fields and in our gardens and has become a major problem. There is no way to identify if your seeds are treated because there is no federal requirement for labeling seeds that have been treated with Neonicotinoids.

Neonics, as they are referred to, are a class of neuro-active insecticides chemically similar to nicotine, developed by scientists at Shell and Bayer in the 1980s. Nicotine itself was used for centuries as an insecticide, until banned in the early 21st century. Neonicotinoids are among the widest-used insecticides in crop protection. They are also widely employed for veterinary purposes including tick and flea control. Wikipedia

Think about this as you watch and read about the falling numbers of pollinators, neonics, are a major cause. Think about this when you read about rising cancer rates and nitrates in our waters. The overuse of chemicals on our lands and in our air since WWII is causing great harm to all forms of life.

“Migration is the movement of people or animals from one place to another, often with the intention of settling in a new location. This can occur within a country or between countries and can be driven by various factors such as economic opportunities, environmental changes, or social reasons.” Wikipedia

Everyday we are bombarded with news of migration - human and non-human. How do we handle that news? Do we listen/watch the news and fret or do we try to do something? It does seem insignificant to try and fight the drag towards authoritarianism, but we must. Every time we write a letter/postcard, call the people who are supposed to be our voice at our state and national level, meet together to create an action plan, is an important step in protecting our democracy. It’s called Resistance.

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Right now there is a crackdown on human immigrants in our country – men, women, children who were driven to migrate due to the factors aforementioned. There are now masked people on the streets in our communities who are using unnecessary force to capture individuals who may be innocent. The indiscriminate kidnapping reeks of a police state that is enveloping our country. There is a hotline and tip form to fill out to assist this disgusting bureaucracy.

There are many factors in migration when applied to humans and animals. Providing the right habitat for all to thrive is critical – natural habitat for all life forms and policy that makes immigration a part of national program that provides a path to becoming a citizen. Both are currently in jeopardy.

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My writing captures what is going on in Brighton Township, 35.55 square miles. I also venture out from my home base, Rolling Acres Farm, to include my county of Cass, outward to southwest Iowa and on to Iowa and beyond. There are 1,599 townships in the state of Iowa.

“Denise, southern rust is moving into my corn fields and I have to spray a fungicide for a second time.” Neighbor Farmer says with worry in his voice. “I won’t put insecticide in it this time, just fungicide.”

“I hate to do this, it’s really costing me economically since I have already sprayed.”

Aerial Spraying Video

“What are you using?” I asked.

“Quilt XL” he answered.

“A fungicide lasts 21 days and I need to keep my short season corn alive for 30 more days.” he goes on to say.

I do my research and find a Syngenta website that tells me how good it is.

• Delivers disease control uniformly throughout the plant, even to new growth, through systemic xylem mobility

• Allows plants to better tolerate dry conditions by reducing water loss, which allows plants to use the water they have more efficiently

• Helps plants withstand wet conditions with stronger, deeper roots and broad-spectrum preventive and curative disease control

• Boosts yield by keeping plants green longer, allowing longer periods of photosynthesis for more plant growth and extended grain and pod fill

• In corn, provides stronger stalks, reduced lodging, a more efficient harvest and less potential for volunteer corn the following season

Our conversation sounded like a Syngenta ad.

According to various commodity and academic sources, southern rust is caused by the fungus Puccinia polysora and was first reported in Iowa in 2016. It was not common in Iowa and typically appears later, in August or September. This year it was detected in mid-July and is more widespread. Warmer and more humid conditions favor the disease’s spread.

Hm…… could this have anything to do with climate change? I wonder.

Neighbor Farmer is trying hard to take care of several thousand acres of corn and beans. I’m fortunate to have someone who is willing to share his concerns with me. We had a thirty minute conversation about making a living farming. He walked me through some technical language I try to comprehend but we always come to the bottom line. With corn prices so low, he’s calculating losing $5 or $10 per acre by spraying another time, but is forced to do it because he needs the bushels to make up for the low price.

The breakeven price for corn at a yield level of 200 bushels per acre is $3.23 per bushel. At 180 bushels per acre, it is $3.58 per bushel. At 160 bushels per acre, it is $4.03. In our local paper today the three Co-op Elevators are bidding from $3.72 down to $3.63 for August delivery.

“Cover crops don’t seem to work.” he says. “I have to use Roundup to kill off the winter crop.”

“There are organic and conventional farmers who are using methods such as a crimper to lay down the cover crop and then inter seed.” I respond. “It seems to work for them.”

“I’m trying out this new seed variety that is supposed to be adapted to these conditions.” He answers. He firmly believes in the science for resistant varieties - genetically modified crops can conquer nature even though the genetics seem to have to change constantly as Mother Nature intervenes.

We end our conversation with his worry of not being able to continue to farm so his children can farm in the future. I heard a voice that sounded trapped in a system that is difficult to maneuver or get out of - a cycle of debt and chemical use.

Am I naive to think I may open some new avenues of thinking?

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This morning at 9:00 a.m. I heard the rat-a-tat-tat of the helicopter outside my office window, south of us. I promptly grabbed my phone to take videos of the spraying. The wind was in the northeast at 10 mph. At Rolling Acres Farm we are fortunate to have a neighbor who is sensitive to when and how he sprays. It is unfortunate that those to the southwest of our farm are the ones getting sprayed. Our farmer neighbor to the northwest of us is not so sensitive.

Helicopter

I drove up to the top of the hill west of our farm where a large truck with a landing platform was sitting ready for the flying machine to land so the worker on the ground could fill it with fuel and poison.

Refueling Gas and Poison

After the helicopter lifted off the platform, I parked the car and walked over the man, a thirtysomething guy and introduced myself. He said his name’s John. We shook hands and I thanked him for spraying the field with the wind in the northeast.

I asked him what chemicals he was using; he identified the insecticide and the fungicide and asked me if I wanted to take a picture of the labels.

John and I talked about the dangers of the chemicals that were being applied. “You're not wearing any protective clothing,” I observed. “I’ve got my gloves up there.” he said as he pointed to a pair of leather gloves on the platform.

He informed me that he had researched these chemicals and found that the fungicide, Veltyma is used on humans for foot fungus; the Bifenthrin is used in lice shampoo. I expressed my concern about the rising rate of cancer in Iowa and the quality of our soil, air and water. He agreed with me and wished things could be different.

I was hit hard by the fact that people like John could not fathom an alternative way of farming. The infrastructure is set up for factory farming the soil, there only needs to be people who own the land and others to drive the tractors. Drive to the field in the spring to plant and spray then show up in the fall to harvest, load a semi and haul to the elevator to collect a check. How easy can it be?

We talked about how the farmers are caught in a system that was set up for corporations to make a profit and that farmers couldn’t make a living without subsidies.

“Hey, did you see this morning where Trump asked Coke to use sugar cane instead of corn fructose?” I asked. “Yea, I heard.” He said.

I realize that I am lucky to even have a conversation with someone who didn’t try to mansplain their way out of what he was doing; to justify the use of poison. He listened, we talked and maybe I said something he will remember. The odds are probably against that.

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The people of Iowa have had somewhat of a respite since poisons filled the air in the spring during corn and bean planting time. That respite is over. The crop dusters are now flying through the countryside spraying fungicides on everything and everyone. The people flying the killing machines are probably nice people. They are doing the job they were hired for - spraying fungicides to protect the corn from Fungal Disease

When my eighteen year old granddaughter was 3, I made a rare trip to the doctor because I wasn’t feeling well. I was lethargic and just out of sorts. The hometown doc drew my blood and ordered tests from the lab. He called me the next day to tell me my liver functions were way off and that I needed to come in; he told me that the tests indicated that I might have some kind of cancer. I made appointments for a colonoscopy and an endoscopy (tube down the throat) in Omaha, that is where one goes in this part of western Iowa. Fortunately for me, my test results did not reveal any presence of cancer.

Doc drew more blood and the return tests showed that everything was normal. What happened? We don’t really know. I was certainly glad that my tests returned normal but was confused about why that happened. The only conclusion we could draw was the aerial spraying that took place the week I did not feel well. This certainly was not conclusive, but after researching fungicides, it did seem possible that there was a link. I will never know, but it certainly made me suspicious.

Fungicides are harmful to human beings. I learned this from the Center for Food Safety website Fungicides

Triazole fungicides cause liver tumors in rodents, leading EPA to classify them as possible or probable carcinogens in humans. These fungicides also cause fatty changes in the liver, which predispose to more serious conditions like steatohepatitis and cirrhosis. Triazoles exhibit neurotoxicity, disrupt the hormonal system, and some adversely affect the thyroid gland. In the year 2000, EPA imposed a moratorium on new triazole approvals until fungicide manufacturers submitted more studies exploring these impacts. They refused. EPA nevertheless dropped the moratorium in 2006, unleashing a spate of new approvals.

Yesterday the crop dusters flew over our farm heading for the annual drenching of everything.

Helicopter Spraying Fungicide

This video was produced in Indiana but the scenario is the same in Iowa. You will notice that these guys are not wearing any protective clothing. I am always amazed by the lack of concern that many applicators have of the harmful chemicals they are applying. I’ve talked with my neighbor about this and he says “Oh Denise, these chemicals are safe. I don’t have to worry!” I just want to scream.

“So what can we do?” you may ask. There is no reason to feel totally helpless, after all during last year’s Iowa legislative session we were able to stop, with the help of Iowa Farmers Union, the pesticide liability bill - appropriately referred to as the pesticide protection for chemical companies bill. We will probably encounter that again in January 2026.Bayer has a lot of money to spend on trying to find a sympathetic audience.

Every time there is a spraying monster in my neighborhood, whether on the ground or in the air, I record the wind speed and direction, temperature, time of day, if there is a strong smell, or taste and take pictures of any vegetation or dead bees. I always get a headache when chemicals are sprayed.

Having a record is important. Iowa has very weak laws regarding contamination by chemicals, but if one does file a complaint, you must have proof. If you have dead vegetation or dead bees they must be sent to a lab for analysis. Burden of proof is on the shoulders of the person making the complaint.

The specialty crop registers Sensitive Crop Registry and Driftwatch is the place to register your farm or property, that is over 1/2 acre. Pesticide applicators are required to look at Field Check and then use precautions when spraying.

Here is what is listed on Driftwatch.

- Beehives/apiaries
- The following crops (includes conventional and certified organic designations):
- commercial vegetable plots (berries, fruits, pumpkins or melons, and vegetables)
- commercial nursery crops
- commercial vineyards (grapes)
- commercial orchards
- commercial evergreen/Christmas tree plantings

- Certified organic row crops, small grains, and pasture
- All commercial crops transitioning to certified organic
- Certain corn and soybean crops, including non-GMO lines, that may be sensitive to some pesticides
- The minimum field size for all specialty crop sites is ½ acre.

There is a Pesticide Bureau and information at Investigation and Enforcement on what to do if there is drift but no form to fill out to file a complaint, you have to email or call the bureau. From experiences people have share with me the process may be slow.

Heavy propaganda tools are used to convince Iowans that we must grow corn. If you listen to sports on the radio you will hear “Iowa doesn’t grow corn. Corn grows Iowa”, over and over and over again. It’s insidious. The Iowa Farm Bureau, the Iowa Corn Growers and other commodity groups are complicit in killing our soil and our people.

As concerned citizens, it is important to educate ourselves and others to the dangers of agribusiness practices in Iowa. Not only educate ourselves but ask questions and become involved with fighting for clean water, healthy soil and healthy people. Iowa does not have an agricultural system we have an agribusiness, extractive, capitalistic economic system that does not respect life in any form. The bottom line is profit and profit is all the agribusiness companies care about.

Two actions are critical to moving forward.

1. Join the best farm organization in the state, a real farm organization - the Iowa Farmers Union Iowa Farmers Union

2. Work hard to recruit and elect a bona fide farmer to the post of Secretary of Ag in Iowa in 2026. There are names floating around and if you know someone who fits the bill, please encourage them. I ran for Secretary of Ag in 2006. It was hard work but rewarding to meet urban and rural folks all across the state who are unified to create a better Iowa.

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Yesterday June 14^th, “No Kings Day” citizens gathered along Hwy 6 between Chestnut and Poplar Streets holding up signs, expressing their opinion and generally calling attention to what they feel are injustices endangering our democracy. Freedom of speech is a constitutional right and protesting is a freedom.

Standing on the street in the small rural town one grew up in can be very difficult. It takes courage; the danger of losing business or social status is real. Many Iowans are reticent to share their political views openly and prefer not to display their personal opinion on a street corner. Peer pressure is fierce in small towns, staying away from public gatherings is more comfortable. Perhaps the problem will just go away, vanish. Those who are out on the street are reminding you that what is happening will not go away unless we stand strong together.

According to the “No Kings” website Iowa had over 30 organized rallies. Rumors flew that people attending protests are funded by “dark” money and that they were paid. Stop anyone on the street at the rally and ask them if they are paid to show up. The answer will invariably be “Are you kidding?!”or an emphatic “NO!” Rumors spread that protesters will burn down the town. Sure.

The people on the street are your neighbors, attend church with you, eat at the same restaurants, you probably went to school with them. People exercising their right of free speech are not enemies of this country; they love this country, are patriotic and are concerned citizens.

An issue that many protesters drew attention to was the $45M military parade in Washington D.C. for the president’s birthday while Congress is cutting off funding that our Armed Forces depend on for medical and other services; people who have served our country and are now being denied programs that help them.

The local planning group found guidance from Indivisible and Beautiful Trouble. Indivisible is a non-profit organization founded in 2016. It is a non-partisan group that encourages local grassroots organizing. Beginning in 2014, Beautiful Trouble partnered with ActionAid International and frontline social movement activists across the Global South to develop a toolkit of social movement resources by and for global changemakers.

Over the past two weeks there have been zoom meetings with thousands of people across the United States who took to the streets. The latest count was approximately 2000 organized rallies or protests with some being conducted in foreign countries. The protests were not riots or insurrections like the January 6^th event where people stormed the capitol in D.C. Most were, as Holly Near sang, “ we are a peaceful, loving people singing for our lives.”

The foundation of these gatherings was peaceful and non-violent. The violence that is shown on our screens is often a minority of people who show up just to bash and plunder. There is a lot of video coming out of L.A. that documents the whole city isn’t burning down.

The basic, common sense training the local planning committee received looked like this – 1) create a safety team 2) inform local law enforcement 3) conduct protest in a public space 4) be respectful with signage and words 5) de-escalate volatile situations 6) have first aid available 7) be prepared for varied weather conditions 8) know your rights and 9) to have fun. Training also emphasized if one is not comfortable being on the street protesting then one can be a support person who can work invisibly behind the scenes.

Our country has a history of protest and more than likely good changes have come from people raising their voices - think Boston Tea Party; ironic that it was about tariffs. Think of Civil Rights, the Vietnam War, the Poor People’s March and others. Many of these brought about fundamental change.

People speaking with one voice is a powerful experience and is an important part of living in a democracy. Voting is a freedom that 89 million people did not participate in during the 2024 election – a powerful threat to preserving a democracy.

Citizen action is necessary to live in a thriving, healthy United States of America. Please respect those who peacefully raise their voices. It’s what democracy looks like.

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The southeastern view from the front porch reveals a hazy, murky landscape. I can see dust in the air and wonder if it is coming from Kansas or even farther away. I recently witnessed a dust devil in a field as I was driving down a gravel road. It was huge; in the middle of it was a person on a tractor planting seeds for this year’s crop. The newly planted bare fields of soybeans and corn have little resistance to hold the soil against strong southerly winds. The tractor driver probably won’t have to worry about the wind negatively impacting the production of corn due to weather and bad farming practices; it looks like Washington will be sending out government payments to help cover the cost of lost income.

In the farmyard the early spring flowers try to stand strong against the powerful, formidable force of nature. Many times after a bout with 30 mph gusts, the yard looks disheveled as if a tornado had tried to form; dead limbs, corn stalks and leaves from last years harvest are strewn everywhere. Our ancient fence catches all of the debris that has been blasted from the vulnerable, newly planted field across the road.

I empathize with the plants, shrubs and trees attempting to hold onto their roots because nearly everyday I try to withstand the derecho force that is ripping apart the roots of my Midwestern upbringing; the core values that I grew up with in rural, small town Iowa. Throughout my childhood and into my teens I learned from school and from my parents the importance of our democracy; voting, running for office, supporting candidates who uphold the Constitution of the United States of America and to be grateful that I live in a country that cares about its people.

Being buffeted by political decisions made one day and changed the next, by watching video of people being snatched from their cars and homes by masked, armed, supposedly legitimate, law enforcement and witnessing the arrogance and disrespect for the rule of law is mind boggling. Just as a fierce wind has no respect for anything that gets in its way, our current governmental officials, in the name of efficiency are having a devastating effect on so many people.

Overcoming confusion, anger and fear about what is emanating out of Washington D.C., our nation’s capitol, is a monumental task some days. The abandonment of programs that have been in place to help those who need help is outrageous.

The Veteran’s Administration is being downsized and will end up providing less medical care and housing for those who defended our country. Services are being consolidated or eliminated while the person in control of our country and his cronies are putting together a $92M military parade to serve the needs of an egomaniac, a man who did not serve his country when others were called. An insecure rich white boy who was able to scheme his way out of his public duty. The money should be spent on taking care of those who take care of us.

We Iowans have learned to accept that our Midwest region is prone to high winds, tornadoes and derechos. The force of gales that can change lives in seconds is a reality that we must deal with.

Are we willing to accept the formidable political forces that are changing our lives everyday at the state and national level? Change is not always easy. Change that hurts people and our environment should be unacceptable and unallowable. Are we willing to speak out against injustices instigated by people who ignore the rule of law and our Constitution? Or do we watch as the destructive winds blow over us and hope for the best?

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I have planted, weeded and harvested gardens with family and friends since early childhood. The physical act of weeding keeps me fairly physically fit; stretching, tugging, bending and lifting strengthens my body.

There are two types of weeding I currently engage in. The first is the meditative, contemplative, methodical rhythm to remove the undesirable plants calms my busy mind. The easiest weeding happens when plants are small and the ground is soft from adequate rainfall and is especially helpful when working through turmoil. 

Endorphins released as I weed lowers my stress level, improves my mood and enhances my sense of well being. The calming effect soothes my brain so I can relax unencumbered by outside pandemonium. Sorting through the plants that enhance the landscape and discarding the unwanted pesky plants gives me a sense of accomplishment.

Internal conversations help strengthen my arguments, analysis and opinions on critical issues like climate change, women’s reproductive rights, school vouchers or whatever is currently capturing headlines. I am grateful for a job that is solitary and offers solace. My thoughts are cast out to the universe looking for answers. Sometimes solutions return with no effort.

Farming has created a space in my life where thinking is possible. The job of performing arduous, menial, manual tasks forces me to slow down. Time consuming, rhythmic weeding presents the opportunity for a deep dive into the issues that consume my activist life.

Lively conversations with me as the audience and lector, improve my ability to formulate and articulate strongly held convictions. What will the Iowa power trifecta that holds it’s citizens hostage do next to meet the goals of Project 2025? How can we possibly get to election day as a whole and not fractured like shards of glass scattered on the ground?

“Good job! The flowers and vegetables can breathe and grow strong,” I say to myself as I look over my shoulder. The evicted, dejected plants lay in rows behind me neatly arranged around the plants that remain to serve as mulch throughout the upcoming summer. I unfold from a modified downward dog position to view the landscape that gives me joy. I am grateful to end my day's work with a sense of achievement and to know exactly where to start the next morning.

The second type of weeding is the physical pulling, tugging, yanking, chopping, groaning and moaning to rid an area of those nasty unwanteds. The ground is hard and dry and it's tough. Hard ass tools like the Root Slayer often assist me when the weeds get too out of hand.

This type of weeding gives me the opportunity to physically let go of my anger; but it also brings out a part of me that I’d rather not deal with. I grew up with an angry, abusive father and have never been able to totally shake the anger part of me. Although I try to be a peaceful person, the violence I feel towards the big, tough, unruly plants and humans is kind of scary. The brut force it takes to eliminate the unwanted plant, enables me to purge, in my mind at least, all those who make life intolerable for others. The grunting, sweating and attacking gigantic weeds also forces me to deal with the dark, angry side of me.

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Working through stress and frustration frees my flower bed and vegetable garden to retain their beautiful textures and colors. The landscape starts to look a little more tamed as misplaced ornery plants are removed. All plants are living beings so it is important that I acknowledge and thank them for their contribution to the health of the soil and my life.

I have been gifted the opportunity to cultivate the land during my short stint on this earth, making me grateful every day. It has not always been an easy life, but it is one that has provided me with many opportunities, the most important one? Working with and attempting to live in balance with Mother Nature.

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Surviving Winter Storm Lola and the trifectas at the national and state level has been a monumental task. Mother Nature is being vengeful and this is her payback to the atrocities Iowans and the nation have endured since the inauguration. Correction, reciprocity, mutual action and reaction, is how she is paying us back; you treat me disrespectfully, I’m back atcha’. I Usually think about reciprocity in a positive light, but Lola was a prime example in how this country is dealing/not dealing with climate change.

I sort of envy those who think everything is fine and all of this havoc will work itself out. The sledgehammer/chainsaw approach to government reorganization has achieved a goal of dishevelment, chaos, confusion and anger. I believe in efficiency and streamlining but there is a rational way to getting it done.

Welcome to my escape from the madness, my greenhouse. This is a small side business that keeps me healthy, brings in a bit of income and creates color and texture on our farm and in our community. Flower, vegetable, prairie seeds all start from very tiny to not so tiny origins.

I spend a good share of my day in the warm environment of living plants. Every day is exciting as I anxiously scrutinize the trays of newly planted seeds for those that have emerged since I last time I looked. This goes on several times a day. Planting the seeds in the soil is fun but watching them germinate is thrilling! The seedlings hourly progress helps me get lost in the miracle of the transformation from seed to plant.

The last week in April there will be people stopping by daily to see what plants are for sale. Most folks want flowers, they are the majority of my sales. It is a joy to provide high quality well-loved plants to my community and surpasses anything I can do with my political activism.

Plants that are raised for big box stores are raised in factory conditions where as in animal confined feeding operations, they are fertilized, sprayed with toxic chemicals and pushed out the door on conveyor belts.

Around the greenhouse and farm, the vestiges of last year’s flowers and shrubs are starting to emerge from the erratic winter. The maple trees are budding out, the bees are loving that.

The first signs of prairie plants like flax and penstemon are peeking out from under the leaves that protected them from December until now.

Like the prairie, we can and will survive this raucous time with dignity and respect for those who are at the frontlines. Robin Wall Kimmerer, author of Braiding Sweetgrass and Serviceberry reminds us that the Earth is a gift and it is our task to treat her with love and respect. Our reciprocity with Mother Nature will be taking care of what has been gifted to us.

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Wonderful female friends have been a part of my life, but when we were in our 30s and 40s we had little extra time to spend together. Many of us had jobs - farmers, teachers, clerks, and fulltime work that kept households together (always an underrated occupation). We had active children who participated in academics, music and sports. Every week or so we would see each other on the cross country running trail or in the auditorium and wave - but we did not have the luxury of time to do things together. We knew we would always be there when needed and that was enough then. As we grew older other interests and people captured our time which led to spending less time in each other’s company.

That has changed. Since COVID I don’t travel as much, I am older and have been closer to home than during my working years. Our children are grown and have their own families. Now we attend our grandchildren’s activities. My time is sort of flexible, certainly more than when I was working and raising children.

More time on the farm has brought me a gift; the gift of having close friendships built around social justice issues. I have found kindred souls; women who love and support each other as advocates and activists in the place where we call home but feel alienated and sometimes unwelcomed. We are women who speak our minds and thus are labeled for being disagreeable, assertive or aggressive. That doesn’t stop us, it annoys us, but it does not stop us.

“Something About the Women in My Life”, a song that I dearly love evokes feelings of the strength and fortitude of my female counterparts, be they sisters, daughters, granddaughters, nieces or friends. Folksinger Holly Near wrote the song that comes from her album “Simply Love”. Her melodic voice is unforgettable. She was born six months before me in 1949 and her life has been dedicated to social justice issues as has mine so I feel a special kinship with her.

The chorus is simply:

“There is something about the women, something about the women, something about the women in my life.”

Thursday mornings I am at my desk with my cup of fair trade, organic Earl Grey tea when the 9:00 zoom brings our activist group together. We live within a forty mile radius and the wonderful world of technology brings us together. We enter the zoom from our kitchens, study’s, offices and dining rooms.

The “work” we do is in honor of those who have come before us. We abide by the words of John Lewis, civil rights activist and public servant - make good trouble. These unruly elders, share and plan activities that further the cause of democracy. Most are retired and volunteer delivering food, working at food banks and keeping the county Democratic Party alive. I first wrote about them in October 2023 Making Room for Activism. We all have children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews and extended family. Southwest Iowa activists organized after the 2016 election and have been advocates in their communities organizing resistance to the ongoing slaughter of our government.

It’s not an easy task to organize in a rural area that once had hues of purple. Many folks have written us off as deep red rural. We beg to differ. In our lifetime we have had blue representation that perhaps we took for granted. It’s hard for us to comprehend that some of our families, neighbors and church members have gone to the dark side. With resistance and persistence some of us have hope that democracy will survive.

Our shared leadership includes an anti-Carbon Pipeline warrior and an education advocate who brings in her background of education, mediation and organizing. An activist who helps us understand google documents, social media and zoom idiosyncrasies has strong ties with her Methodist community. Our retired teacher adds her years of experience as an educator and family farm supporter. The postcard writer, always urging us to get together to write postcards, spent some of her years as a teacher and a school principal. I bring my years of advocating for women in agriculture and agriculture in general.

Not only do I have the women in Southwest Iowa as activist partners, I am now a part of another group of champions right in my own county. These women have backgrounds in finance, data analysis, teaching and business development. What a team! We are working hard to revive a weak county Democratic party. I am grateful for my political allies who actively work to improve our local, state and national government.

We conduct voter registration activities, hold events, decorate floats, raise money for candidates and hold parties to celebrate our work - needless to say there has been very little to celebrate since November. It is wonderful to have a sisterhood who care deeply about the communities we live in. We often feel like strangers in a strange land even though several of us have lived here all our lives.

Women continue to be a gathering force to stand against the tyranny that is taking over our country We gather together specifically to defend democracy.

I have other friends who are quilters, travel together, play cards, go to plays and do community volunteer work. We all pick activities that we fit into and feel most comfortable with. Mine is social justice. I am grateful that there are women in my life who are willing to step up and speak out.

“There’s something about the women, something about the women, something about the women in my life.”

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