Tag Archives: BueLingo

I guess I’ll do it tomorrow

The evening was wonderfully cool, and although the light was fading fast, I was sure I had just enough time to get my herbs transplants into the garden.

I had my trowel and garden fork, a little map showing where I’d place the plants, and a kneeling cushion for my knees. I’d sprayed down my jeans against ticks and my ball cap against bothersome mosquitos.  “Let’s go, Siggy.” And so my corgi and I climbed a slight rise to a generous plot set aside for medicinal herbs.

I could see the herd just across the field. I’d moved them to a fresh paddock just hours before. And there was a cow, #7, a red-and-white Buelingo, trumpeting across the fence to the next open field. She was calling for her calf. She had been pacing the fenceline for a good half hour, and her call was sounding more and more desparate. Where was her calf? Born just this morning, the little red-and-white heifer was strong and healthy and had immediately followed her mom around on long, wobbly legs.

Where was she?

The cow’ was getting more agitated as the dark edged in.

Up until a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have been too bothered by the scene. Calves love to slip under fences and walk away from their dams. But last year, we lost two calves to coyotes and I just didn’t want to chance that again.

And so, I got off my knees, dusted off my jeans and headed to the garage for a flashlight.
“Come on, Sig. Let’s find this little girl.”

Fortunately, it was a very brief search. The calf was nestled down in some long grass just a few yards from the fence. It’s amazing how well calves can disappear in high grass. There can be a dozen of them right in front of you, and you’d never know.

new Buelingo heifer

It took quite a bit of jostling to wake her and get her on her feet (very young calves can be tough to move)  and headed back towards mama. Meanwhile, the entire herd had lined up along the electric fence line, and watched me struggle with the little animal.

I eventurally pushed the calf back under the fence where she was reclaimed by her dam.

By then, it was nearly dark, and Sig and I walked back to the house by flashlight.

The herb transplants will have to wait till tomorrow.

Sylvia

 

 

Growing past our tomorrows in organic farming and eating

It was a nail biter: whiteouts every few minutes, ice building on the roadbed, semi’s and cars in the ditch. It was late February in northern Wisconsin, so it wasn’t like this weather was rare. It was treacherous, but there wasn’t any way I wasn’t going to get to La Crosse, WI. The 30thAnnual Organic Farming Conference was due to start in a couple of days and I was going to get there.

Put on by the Midwest Organic & Sustainable Education Service (MOSES), I’ve attended the event many times, watching it grow from a gathering of fewer than 100 to the biggest organic farming gathering in the United State, if not the world. Now, as a member of the MOSES board of directors, I worried bad weather would cut attendance and dampen spirits.

I stewed as we rolled through the miles: MOSES staff had – with its signature professionalism and efficiency – developed an exciting program of 60 breakout sessions, nine full-day Organic University classes, and numbers of roundtable discussions, film screenings, and more. Presenters and keynote speakers were en route (I hoped) from all across the country. Exhibitors were due to spotlight the latest in equipment, ideas for cultivation, seed, consultation services, grant opportunities, and technical assistance.

Then there were the researchers, policy makers, financial and communications experts, and educators making their way on ice-crusted roads.

Would all the farmers make it? Pre-registration indicated we could expect at least 2,000+ from rural communities in 40+ states and points beyond, including China. Many were producing from certified organic acres. Others were transitioning, and still other contemplating this shift to organic practice.

From past experience, I knew attendees would include scores of pioneers – the men and women who laid the foundations of the organic sector and pushed for the passage of the Organic Foods Act of 1990.  They’d get to the conference come hell or high water (or six-foot snow drifts).

The snow began to lighten through the evening. By Friday, 2,900 attendees packed the La Crosse Convention Center and filled area hotels.

As with any good event, no sooner does it begin than it’s over, and you’re stopping for last hugs and coordinating calendars for pastures walks or FaceTime. Ultimately, this year’s event did for me what it’s done before: it lifted my thinking above the weather and into a place where I would not only welcome the coming growing season, but think into the future – our future.

Well, Spring begins tomorrow. As the drifts melt, I can see fences to mend and calves to prepare for at my farm, Bull Brook Keep. Possibilities swirl for this and next year: Should my husband Dave and I get into hazelnuts? How might that work in combination with Icelandic chickens for insect control in my BueLingo beef herd? Should I get on the bus and lobby at the state capital? How will I find young farmers who’d like to build their skills and income on my land?

Two conference take-aways are helping me explore these ideas: Thursday’s day-long “Organics 2051” session, and Friday’s keynote panel.

“Organic 2051” was emblematic of what MOSES does every year, at every event and conversation – tap the wisdom of the crowd. It was a full day of intensive conversation about the organic sector 30 years from now. Audrey Arner (organic farmer/organics pioneer/past president of MOSES Board of Directors) facilitated the gathering of over 100 thought leaders as they envisioned the growth and strength, challenges and obstacles faced by the organic sector nationwide.

The participants self-selected to spend the day focused on one of 15 issue areas, including market infrastructure, climate change, rural community revitalization, and livestock. I was a fly on the wall, moving from group to group.  I listened as farmers and ranchers, financiers and policy makers, economists, marketers, and consumer advocates put their heads together over thorny and complex challenges. They identified key opportunities, drilled down to major obstacles, and worked to synthesize possible strategies.

 

I was struck by their will to hear every voice.  There was so much experience, youthful energy, creativity and hope at each table. Their conversations were pooled into written proceedings as well as artistic renderings. At the end of the day, their ideas and suggestions live on the MOSES website so that hundreds more can help shape direction and action.

The other big impression came from Friday’s keynote panel.

I’d been given the honor to moderate this exchange among six champions, men and women who helped shape the philosophy and practice of the sector, and were instrumental in the passage of the Organic Foods Act of 1990. The panel included Audrey Arner, organic farmer and former MOSES board member and board president; Atina Diffley, organic farmer, educator and author of Turn Here Sweet Corn; Faye Jones, helped establish the Organic Farming Conference, and first director of MOSES; Jim Riddle, helped develop the organic standards, inspector training, with wife Joyce Ford the 2019 MOSES Organic Farmer of the Year; George Siemon, CEO and early organizer of Organic Valley, served on National Organic Standards Board; and Francis Thicke, organic dairy farmer, served on NOSB, on first MOSES Board of Directors.

Each explained how the organic standards they worked to develop in the 1970s, 80s and 90s must be vigorously defended and expanded. They stressed that it is our responsibility to protect organic regulations from well-financed pressures to dilute them. The panel emphasized that the bar must be pushed ever higher.

It was humbling to sit on the stage with these leaders. I got to know most of them while serving as a public relations consultant in the late 1980s. They showed me organic farming could be done well. As they spoke, I looked out beyond the stage lights to the large crowd of students, 20-somethings and 30-somethings, clusters of 40-somethings and 50-somethings with children. They were listening.

Winter’s done, and, hopefully, the deepest freezes are behind us. Once we get through the thaw, we’ll start our growing season. We’ll get super busy; we always do.

Before the long days begin, I’ll need to schedule time to do what I can to protect and improve our standards, to think forward to those young men and women who’ll grow organic foods in 2051 and beyond.

I hope you’ll join me, our nation’s organic and sustainable farmers, and MOSES in this movement.

Sylvia

2018 Coop Farm Tour at Bull Brook Keep – Thanks for coming!

Boy, was it sunny yesterday! A perfect day for the Coop Farm Tour. Once again, Dave and I are glad our farm – Bull Brook Keep – was one of the 30+ rural and urban farms participating in this annual event, which is organized by a consortium of Twin Cities natural foods coops. (Thanks Allison Heitmiller!)

A big thanks to everyone who visited from near and far. Our cattle are grass-fed and grass-finished, so it was a pleasure to demonstrate how we rotate our BueLingo herd across our fields. We were proud to offer samples of our summer sausage (no artificial nitrates or nitrites), and our ground beef – in a savory chili. We enjoyed answering questions and explaining our sustainable practice as we walked up the pasture.

A big THANK YOU, to our farm tour volunteer, Joe Henson. Joe works at the Lakewinds Food Coop meat department, and proved a huge help on the farm. Not only personable and knowledgeable, he helped set up temporary paddocks, he welcomed visitors and helped tell our story. He was great! Joe, you were a huge asset to the day. We hope you’ll come back to visit with family and friends soon.

Sylvia & Dave Toftness, and Coop Farm Tour volunteer Joe Henson.

Please post photos of your visit to our farm. Miss the farm tour? No problem. We welcome visitors every month of the year. Just give a call. We’d love to hear about your food journey.
Sylvia

 

From veggies to flowers. Sourdough to cakes and mini-tarts.

I know better; I should never take a book to bed. Although I tell myself that I’ll read for just 15 minutes, suddently it’s 1:05AM. Drat – I’ve done it again.

Today’s sources


I can’t help it – I love researching recipes, the histories of spices and teas, national foodways, and cuisines at different times in history. Right now, I’m finding and testing new recipes for my Cowgirl High Teas. Exciting savories, seasonal scones, unique curds and jams, off-the-chart gluten-free tarts. These high teas are informed by our farm, our commitment to sustainably grown local foods, the teas I’ve enjoyed in many parts of the world, and foods enjoyed by many cultures.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) there are a gazillion books (So glad the Amery Public Library is part of the state’s extensive lending network). Then there are the hundreds of blogs and thousands of Pinterest posts. And I’ve got to do this in between farm chores. (Can’t keep our BueLingo beef herd waiting to be moved to fresh pastures, after all!)

This intense investigation and trial reminds me of a time, decades ago, when I was planting my first garden in south Minneapolis. Copies of Organic Gardening magazine, Rodale books, and John Jeavon’s More Vegetables lay open by my new raised beds. Within weeks, their pages were dog-eared and smudged. I was determined! I tore up lawn and pulled up flower beds. You can’t eat flowers! And I needed space for all those healthful vegetables to eat and freeze for my husband, our two young children, and me.

I was a zealot. But after several years, I began to yearn for flowers. I’ve always loved them. I gift them all the time, and love getting bouquets from husband and kids. And if I’m feeling particularly generous, I’ll buy some for myself. After five or six years of nothing but edibles, I started planting a few tulips and irises. Then came the bachelor’s buttons, pincushion flowers, and rugosa roses. When I sold my house, I planted hundreds of gladiola bulbs for the new owners to enjoy that summer.

Verbena and vinca flowers among rosemary branches

I see the cycle repeating itself. I started baking bread in the 1970s, along with everyone else searching for alternatives to that white squishy stuff sold at the grocery store. My first attempts were doorstops, but I I kept plugging.

My obsession with mild French sourdough began over a dozen years ago. Again, I plunged into research, trials, sacks of flour and burbling jars of sourdough starter. Six years ago, I started teaching others how to bake artisan loaves in their home kitchens. All fall and winter, these classes focus on strategies using time, temperature and hydration to create lofty, chewy crusts, and open tender crumb. We have a good time filled with lots of conversation, flour up to our elbows, and yummy sampling.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I know woman cannot live by bread alone. I will not turn down a chewy, home-made chocolate chip cookie. I can, and have, eaten them by the dozen. But cakes and pies? Nah, not so much. At least, not until recently.

A couple of years ago, the fragrance and almondy richness of fangipane caught my attention, and a recipe that included cranberries (my favorite fruit) demanded I buy a tart pan. Now, I’m baking miniature cakes and tartlets, lemon-infused bundt cakes, ginger shortbreads and cardamom cookies, strawberry scones, panna cottas, and mini-cheese cakes — bite-sized delectables just right for high tea. I’m loving the sweet end of the baking spectrum. There’s a balance they provide.

Bees hum in the garlic chives

Nutrient-dense produce and wonderful sprays of color and fragrance – a balance valuable in the garden and in the kitchen. In truth, you can’t be a vegetable gardener without flowers. It just isn’t possible because every fruit and vegetable begins with an often inconspicuous swirl of petals. Similarly, the plants we cultivate specifically for their glorious blooms are as important to the health of our natural and human landscape. They lift our hearts.

I think baking presents an analog. Bread is, I believe, a critical staple in our diet. But cakes and tartlets? Mini-muffins and tiny pies? I’m beginning to see them as the flowers in our cuisine.

Sylvia

You’re invited to a Cowgirl High Tea at Bull Brook Keep

China tea pots, linens, teas to match the food and the seasons. Flavors from around the world. Reserve now for July 28, Aug 25, Sept 22, and Oct. 20. Each tea goes from 11:30AM-3:00PM. Seating limited to 8.

I love tea, but enjoy it most when lifting a cup with good company. Come and enjoy a Cowgirl High Tea where the setting,and homemade sweets and savories are informed by travels near and very far, lucious local ingredients sustainably grown, and the love of good food.

Our BueLingo cows and I hope you’ll raise a cup with us soon!

High tea with our grass-fed herd of BueLingos at Bull Brook Keep.

Bull Brook Keep is just a stone’s throw from Minneapolis and St. Paul, MN.
Questions? Text, call or email – 651-238-8525, sylvia@bullbrookkeep.com

Sylvia

Success with Stockdogs Part 2 – Different herding breeds trained for different work

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Deep Roots Radio
Deep Roots Radio
Success with Stockdogs Part 2 - Different herding breeds trained for different work
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My Siggy is a Corgi, a herding dog. We practice rotation grazing on our farm because our commitment is to 100% grass-fed beef. Our practice is to move cattle slowly and calmly from pasture to pasture. No loud noises or running allowed! How do I train Siggy to work more gently with my BueLingo cattle?

In this second Deep Roots Radio installment, Denice Rakley, of Clearfield Stockdogs, describes how she trains herding dogs to bring out the special traits of their distinct breeds. She also stresses the importance of knowing the proven behaviors of the dog’s immediate parentage.

In Part 3, Denice will explain what to look for when acquiring your first stock dog or puppy.

I hope you enjoy this interview.

Sylvia

How international trade hits local farms and your grocery bill, with Josh Wise, Institute for Agriculture and Trade Policy

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Deep Roots Radio
Deep Roots Radio
How international trade hits local farms and your grocery bill, with Josh Wise, Institute for Agriculture and Trade Policy
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NAFTA, TPP, TTIP – a puzzling alphabet soup of international policies that leave me scratching my head. What do they have to do with my farm – a 72-acre operation with a herd of 40 BueLingo beef cattle? How does international policy affect my very small family farm committed to 100% grass-fed beef, and sustainable practices, such as rotational grazing?

Our BueLingo cattle grazing lush pastures

How do these policies affect the operations and profitability of other small- to medium-scale family farms producing grains, vegetables, fruit or other livestock?

In this Deep Roots Radio interview, Josh Wise, Development and Communications Director for the Institute for Agriculture and Trade Policy, outlines how international policies, such as the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) affect a family farm’s ability to compete in the local marketplace, and how this shows up in your grocery bill.

Headquartered in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and with offices Washington, D.C., IATP was founded during the farm crises of the mid-1980s. The organization works at the intersection of policy and practice to ensure fair and sustainable food, farm and trade systems. It is committed to advancing policy solutions—locally and globally—to some of the world’s most complex problems in order to promote resilient food, farm and trade systems, and the agriculture and trade policies that benefit farmers, ecosystems, and social justice.

Prior to joining IATP, Josh was the Executive Director of the Minnesota Fair Trade Coalition, and most recently the Executive Director of One Voice Mixed Chorus. While with MNFTC, Josh led the organizing and lobbying effort in the Midwest to oppose the fast track for TPP and the Transatlantic Trade and Investment Partnership (TTIP).

I hope you enjoy this interview.
Sylvia

Farming ice and sugar snow at Bull Brook Keep

I have to admit – I really loved the thaw this past weekend – temperatures in the upper-30’s, sunshine and no wind. And that’s what did it. That combination of warmth and sun-filled breezes melted the snow, transforming snowy tractor tracks to rounded ice ridges, and making every level surface a skating rink. All across the farm, snow crusted over shoals of deep, loose snow and ice crystals. 16-second video: Farming ice and sugar snow

I had to move hay this afternoon, regardless of the treacherous conditions. It was snowing sideways, and every surface posed a challenge. My boots slipped and slid as I walked to open fence gates. Sleet encrusted the tractor’s windshield and doors. Fortunately, the engine block heater did it’s job, and the machine rumbled to life on the first try.

I could’ve never imagined weather like this when I was growing up in the South Bronx. And the thought of raising cattle and moving hay never entered my mind. But here I am, decades later, raising 100% grass-fed beef cattle in western Wisconsin with my husband David. And that means feeding them high-quality hay throughout the winter. (They graze grasses, legumes and herbs during the growing season.)

It was slow going today. A job that might take 15 minutes on a warm summer afternoon, took hours as I carefully negotiated ice-packed hills and crossed drift-filled pastures, often plowing my path as I went. When I wasn’t sliding on glare ice, the tractor’s nearly four-foot high wheels would spin in pockets of snow the consistency of fine sugar. Lovely to look at, but a real challenge to pull out of when I get stuck. And, yes, I got stuck more than once.

When that happens, I use the front bucket like a claw to drag the tractor onto solid ground. It’s an inch-by-inch process that can take forever. It’s one reason I make sure there’s enough diesel in the tank. Funny – the cows love to watch as I struggle.

It always feels good to get this chore done, to park the tractor and walk back to the house, my Corgi Siggy trotting along side. I thank God for my late-in-life journey from city-girl-to-cattle farmer. (And thank you, Dave) I’m grateful for this opportunity to gain a better appreciation for the work life-long farmers tackle every day.
Sylvia

Typing, invoicing, phone calls, map searches – getting our grass-fed beef to your table

I sat down to the keyboard a bit before 8:00 this morning, and now it’s after 1:30PM. How is that possible?!
Well, there were all those emails with a subject line I love to write: Your beef is ready!
Then there were the follow-up calls with customers to confirm delivery to drop sites in and around the Minneapolis/St. Paul, MN metro area.
And there were Google Map searches to find out where I’d have to make home deliveries.

Beefy soup!

And, of course, while all of this was going on, I was keeping a mental inventory of beef just picked up from the USDA processor. Hmmm, T-bones, ribeye, sirloin, chuck and cross-rib roasts, briskets and flank steaks, and lots more.
This is the record-keeping-and-communications time of the year that adds the final links to the food chain. To be honest, it’s a time I value and respect – delivering beef directly to the customer.
It represents well over two years of work on Bull Brook Keep farm.

BueLingo calves

It starts in the early spring with the arrival of our BueLingo calves. The herd grows sleek and fat as we move them from pasture to grassy pasture throughout the growing season. Midsummer marks the breeding season. We separate the bulls from the larger herd in mid-fall (away from the heifers too young to breed). Grasses shrivel as frosts hit and snow blankets the farm. That’s when we provide the cows with hay grown in our own fields. As the days warm in April and May, the cycle begins again. Dave and I work to manage our pastures and herd in harmony with nature.
Cattle that spend the last several months of their lives eating grain in feedlots reach harvest weight by the time they’re 16-18 months old. It’s a confinement approach that is often accompanied by subclinical antibiotics in the feed, and the administration of hormones.
In contrast, our 100% grass-fed cattle, take nine to 10 months longer to reach harvest condition. It means an extra year of feeding and care for us, but we’re committed to breeding and raising our beef cattle on grass – and only grass. No grains, no hormones, no subclinical antibiotics. And by practicing rotational grazing, our cows are contented and healthy, and the pastures improve. We’re seeing more farmers in our area adopting this approach.

Fresh air and sunshine 24/7


Dave and I made a home delivery last night, and I’ll be making several stops at drop-sites this week and next. It’s hard work, but to me it feels like a reward. When I hand over the boxes, it’s almost like placing a big bowl of delicious beef stew and a thick slice of homemake sourdough bread in front of a dear friend or family member. (It’s so much more fun to cook, when you’re cooking for someone you value.)
I thank God for the farming stewardship He has given Dave and me, and for the wonderful customers and friends walking the path with us.
Sylvia

Sliding seasons

Two days ago, it hit nearly 90 degrees. And the humidity – it was awful. It felt as if I was breathing through a sponge.
This morning, the dogs and I walked to the mailbox in a cool drizzle. It was 58 degrees and I was glad I’d pulled on my old denim barn jacket and cap. Although our driveway’s only 600 feet long, my low boots and the hems of my jeans were drenched before I got to the road.
Our driveway ends at a cattle grate that works to keep the cows inside our property (they balk at the light and dark pattern created by the grate’s heavy horizontal pipes).
I put Siggy (my Corgi) on “stay” at the grate and walked the last few yards across the road and to our weathered mailbox. It’s worst for wear because some vandal decided to use it for a piñata a couple of years ago.
I pulled out a short stack of junk mail, and a magazine I was very glad to fold up under my arm to protect it from the light drizzle. Siggy, Parker (Dave’s English Setter) and I made our way back up to the house. Half way, I made a quick stop at the orchard. One of the several fairly young apple trees was bending under its ripe burden. Note to self – pick, dry, freeze and can apples – yesterday.

Fall = applesauce

The dogs ran and romped around me, clocking a couple of miles as they zig-zagged across the gravel, around the orchard and across the open grasses.
Despite their doggy activity, it was quiet. I like that about drizzle.

Contented BueLingos

The driveway slopes up to the house, and as I neared it, I looked East. Most of the cows were reclined on a near pasture, contentedly chewing their cud. A good sign of health and calm.
As I opened the garage door, I began to mentally tick off today’s to-do’s: notify customers of the summer sausage now available for pickup; write up meeting notes from last week: start a batch of French sourdough, contact prospective students for upcoming artisan bread baking classes, contact potential guests for Deep Roots Radio; and schedule our next beef harvest. Because Dave and I farm in rhythm with the seasons, harvests are a sure sign of the shift from summer to fall.
The window of my small home office opens to a southern slice of the farm. I can see some of this year’s calves. Boy, but it’s a healthy group. It’s amazing how some of those steers have gained hundreds of pounds and nearly a foot of height in just four months.
The sky’s brightening a bit, and I can just make out a pair of sandhill cranes on a ridge. I love their call, and the way they slowly wing just 40 and 50 feet above the ground.
Leaves are turning. And even though we’ve gotten lots of rain and considerable sunshine, the grass just doesn’t grow as quickly or as thickly as it did in early July. Despite this annual slow-down, we’re still able to rotate the cattle to fresh paddocks (grazing areas) even now because the pastures are so much more diverse and healthy than even two years ago. This is important for us because our BueLingo beef cattle are 100% grass-fed and grass-finished. They grow and fatten on grasses, legumes and herbs. No grain. No hormones. No subclinical antibiotics. This means it takes up to a year longer to get our cattle to harvest condition, but again, that’s what it means to raise cattle as nature intended.

Our third-crop hay is baled and waiting for me to move it off the field and to the storage area. At this time of year, it’s the very heavy morning dew that presents a challenge. I just don’t like driving a tractor really wet ground. On a typical late September day, I’ll often wait until mid-afternoon before venturing out in my John Deere. Given the last two days of rain, I’m going to hold off until we’ve had a couple of sunny days to dry things out a bit.
Drizzle, drenching dews, cooling days and lengthening nights. Every turn of the clock moves us from the growing to the harvest season. Again.
It’s fall.