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Tree Swallows, Bats, and Barn Owls

I can be a little batty at times, but now that label will be justified! There are a few ways to combat pests on a farm, but keeping pests under control in an organic system can be challenging. I know that there are “sprays” that kill pests, even organically approved sprays, but I just don’t like to use that technology. I do have a sprayer, but I use it primarily for spraying nutrients, things like Kelp or Potassium, to help keep the plants at their optimum health.

However, we do have a few persistent pests, particularly in the orchard and especially, the dreaded Apple Maggot Fly that can render a whole crop unmarketable! The solutions to keeping that critter in check are mostly sprays. (Yuck!) I am not willing to go down that path. So, I have been spending a fair amount of time thinking about how to naturally (using nature) control those critters.

Strategy #1: I have decided upon a few nesting boxes for Tree or Violet Green Swallows, a bat house and a nesting box for Barn Owls. Swallows are insect eating machines and will be for daytime bug control. The Bats will be for nighttime bug control and the Barn Owls will help with the rodents that also call our organic farm home.

Strategy #2: I am going to use black plastic on the orchard floor to prevent the Apple Fly larva from emerging from their winter rest and becoming adult flies.

Strategy #3: I will use some sticky traps as well. Yes, all of this is a lot more work than using a spray, but, like I said earlier, “I don’t like to spray.” Check back in September to see if I was successful. 🙂

Increasing biological diversity is the best strategy. Using nature to keep nature in balance. Whoa! That’s revolutionary!

Tristan Klesick, Farmer, Health Advocate

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Systems

Sometimes it just comes down to a system—like my morning routine. I get up at 5 a.m. (unless the dog was barking at 2, then I get up 5:15 :)) and head downstairs. This is the trickiest part of the day in our old farmhouse. The steps are small and steep, and my preference is to use the steps as steps, not a slide!

After I navigate the steps and am more awake, I put on my headphones and start listening to the Bible. At this point, I am ready for action! I get the teapot, fill it up, and turn it on. Next, I get the small pan, put in a little milk, maple syrup, coconut and Cacao powder and turn it up. Then I grind a few tablespoons of coffee from Camano Island Coffee Roasters. (Joelle, my wife, really likes the Papua New Guinea medium roast.) Now the tea pot is starting to get hot and so is the milk. I grab a coffee filter and the ceramic pour over container and put in the ground coffee (this is an important step, trust me :)) Next, I pour the milk into the cup, place the pour over container over it and start pouring the hot water.

While I am waiting for the coffee to pour through the filter, I start making the morning smoothies for the Kiddos. Just about the time the coffee is ready, the smoothies are almost ready as well. When I deliver the coffee to my wife, the first set of kiddos start to awaken and I am well on my way through a ½ dozen chapters of the Bible. I really like serving my family.

Klesick Farms operates in a similar way. Just like I want to deliver the freshest coffee to my wife every morning, I want to bring you the freshest ingredients so you can feed your family incredible produce, and drink the freshest roasted coffee and freshest milk.

Our team has spent 20 years improving our system. The goal has always been the same: get the freshest organically grown ingredients to you ASAP. When it comes to produce, we are easily 2 to 7 days fresher than the traditional grocery store model. Our coffee is roasted to order and our milk is from a family farm in Lynden who is committed to getting us the freshest milk, so we can get you the freshest milk.

We can accomplish being ultra-fresh because our passion is to serve you. We do everything on purpose. Your box of good food arrives at your door because we have a system that ensures your produce, your coffee, your milk get to your door as fresh as possible.

And, just around the corner, you will be getting locally grown produce within a few days of harvest as myself and other local growers fire up our tractors and start growing food. Fresh, healthy, convenient. That is a recipe for busy families to eat healthy and be healthy.

Farmer and Health Advocate,

Tristan Klesick

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Chungo

It will be a sad day when the Farm’s black lab passes from this life to the next. I remember the day we got him. I took two sons to visit Debbie and her new litter of black labs.  Our intention was to get another dog to be a companion to our Golden Retriever, Chapps. Chapps was getting on in years, and I thought that staggering the ages would be a good strategy.

I had Goldens all my life, which just happened to be City life. Well, when we moved to the Stillaguamish Valley and onto our current farm, it became obvious that a light brown dog quickly became a dark, almost black dog in the winter.  In fact, when he would go swimming in the sloughs around here, he would definitely be a black dog with “brown roots” :).

That fateful morning, Micah, Aaron and I headed over to get our new puppy. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. When we got there and saw all those puppies running around and playing, it became obvious that I was going to be BRINGING HOME TWO puppies. Okay, call me soft, but they were sure cute and those two boys of mine definitely wanted one each.

Ironically, I let the boys pick out their own dogs and wouldn’t you know that each picked out a black lab with a personality completely different than theirs! I know this often happens in a marriage, but I never made the connection between dogs and dog owners.

Another connection I didn’t make was that when those boys moved out, their dogs wouldn’t. And then I would become the proud owner of two black labs. Lightning is no longer with us, but Chungo still is. However, 13 is mighty old for a lab and his hips are just not what they use to be. He is super sweet, sleeps a ton and still wags that tail like only a lab can.

The writing is on the wall. His days are fewer than more, his strength is fading, and his hearing is mostly gone. But, as long he is able, he will always be welcome on my farm, by my side. And when he finally passes, there will be a big section of Marginalia written on the margins of my life. Thankfully, this isn’t the final chapter yet. When I get home tonight, Chungo will be waiting, wagging that tail like only a black lab can, standing right in my way to make sure he gets some loving on my way to the front door. That’s living the good life.

Tristan

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Excuse Me, Pardon Me

John, the intrepid Klesick farmhand, is all too acquainted with his rain gear this year. As Seattle Mariner announcer, Dave Niehaus, used to say, “My, oh my.” This is an amazingly wet year. Just as I start to get the itch to fire up the tractor and plant some peas, it rains and then, rains some more. Or it snows or hails or gets sunny and snows or hails and gets sunny again. About the only thing I can count on is that it will get dark around 5 p.m. and be dark at 5 a.m. when I get up.

And, does anyone else think that Daylight Savings time is early this year? Is it really already time to roll the clock ahead? Thankfully, cell phones make the adjustment automatically, or some of us would be waiting till Fall to get back to the right time. 🙂 Some of us will even actually spend another 6 months subtracting an hour every time we look at that clock. (You know who you are.) The irony of it all is that it will take about as long to do the math as to change the clock!

But I digress (a writer’s prerogative).

Back to farming.

In really wet years like this, it feels like a sprint when Spring actually arrives. In fact, John and I have been preparing by just climbing up into the tractor. Ten reps a day. We check the fuel, the oil and have our rain gear and boots all cleaned up and ready to go. We’re just waiting for the starter’s gun to go off or the spigot to turn off!?!?!? Tongue in cheek, of course, but rest assured, John and I are ready and eager to get going when the mud dries and the weather warms up. But, if you would, pray for two things: 1. that it happens sooner than later, and 2. it won’t be the first day of fishing season or on Easter Sunday, because, well, it’s complicated… or it’s competing priorities or it just wouldn’t be fair!

Thank you for being a part of our Organic Home Delivery service. Small to medium size farms like ours need local eaters in order to remain viable. Every time you order a box of good food, it encourages a whole lot of local organic farmers to press on and continue growing nutritious food for you and your families.

Cheers to your health,

 

 

Tristan Klesick,

Farmer/Health Advocate

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Marginalia

Marginalia refers to 1) marginal notes or embellishments (as in a book) or 2) nonessential items. Marginalia are very personal. The notes that are made in the margins of books or articles reflect the moment in time for that individual as they are engaged in reading or learning or reflecting. Highlighted sections or a few scribbled notes capture those unique inspirational moments. A family cookbook filled with smudges and stains and several generations worth of marginalia guide us through a recipe, but also remind us of a family member who left the note. Just seeing my grandma’s hand writing brings me back to the Oso farm, rope swings, the over gown apple tree in the back 40…

The margin notes of our lives are anything but marginal. If we compare our lives to a book, an unfinished book, filled with several chapters, what would be some of the marginalia that have been written? For many of us our books span decades and multiple generations. The books themselves are chock full of wisdom and life lessons, but the marginalia of our lives are where we find deep meaning, joy, sorrow, life.

Many of the notes speak out to us from the midst of a full, but oft chaotic life. The birth of a child; the loss of a child. Cancer; cancer in remission. A wedding; a divorce. The first dance recital; the last dance recital. A first word; a last word.

It is in such places that the marginalia have been highlighted or written by life. Very important places. Places filled with deep love and pain, hope and sorrow, joy and sadness. And we can’t really know either without knowing both. I contend that in the marginalia of our lives there is very little of the nonessential. Rather, there we find the foundation of knowledge and experiences that can be used to create more love, more hope, more joy to heal the pain, the sorrow, and the sadness of our own lives and the lives of others.

Yet, are we willing to let others read the marginalia of our lives? All of us can use our margin notes to write on the lives of others, but what and how we share our marginalia will determine whether we have a positive or negative impact. Let us strive to write or speak words of hope and life. Let us do acts of kindness on purpose with intention to make the life of another better tomorrow than it is today.

 

 

Tristan Klesick

Farmer/Health Advocate 

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Organic. Time is Personal

I have not always been a strict organic consumer. About 6-7 years ago I started with organic eggs, mainly because they taste better. When I discovered how much better the eggs were, I figured the chicken would be too. That began my journey to slowly transitioning into more organic items, and within 2-3 years, 50% of what I was consuming was organic.

A short time later at a routine doctor’s visit, swollen lymph nodes were discovered under my arms and other parts of my body. After asking the doctor how to get them back to their normal state, I remember vividly the technician saying, “there’s nothing really you can do about them, other than just monitor them”; an answer that didn’t quite sit right with me. It was then that I began heavily researching and learning more about the organic movement, and the more I learned, the more compelled I felt to switch to an all organic diet. Everything from the extra hormones added, to the animal products available in the market, and the pesticides and chemicals added to the produce; the genetically modified foods we put in our bodies and the chemicals we put on our skin, all have an effect on us.

Switching to a 75% organic diet has been one of the best things I could have ever done. I consume hormone-free, organic eggs, meats and produce. My fridge is usually packed with organic goodness every Monday, and practically empty every Saturday…aka time to get more organic groceries. My lymphs nodes where back to normal a year later. Ironically, I had my check-up with the same technician. I brought up the fact that the swelling was gone as she was scanning my test and she repeatedly said: “it must have been an error, they just don’t go away”. Well, they did.

It’s often said that people decide to make drastic changes once they are faced with big challenges (wake up calls). I am thankful mine was not as challenging as many other people face, and equally thankful for the swollen lymph nodes. I am still not 100% organic, not because I don’t want to be, but because sometimes it’s simply not possible due to accessibility. Life happens, and I don’t beat myself up for it. But when the option is there, organic is always my first choice.

These days the word “organic” is seen everywhere. More and more menus are offering “organic greens served with organic baker’s bread and organic spread”, but one thing we have in our favor is that that the word organic (unlike other feel-good descriptions of food like “natural”), actually means something. Certification procedures in the United States and many other countries are strict. In the US, organic food must meet standards ensuring that genetic engineering, synthetic fertilizers, sewage and irradiation were not used in the food’s production; and that makes it a tad easier for us!

With love and gratitude,

Sara Balcazar-Greene (aka. Peruvian Chick)

Peruvian Food Ambassador

peruvianchick.com

instagram.com/peruvianchick

facebook.com/theperuvianchick

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The Moment I Became A Farmer

Warm and wet! That is how I would describe the weather around the NW corner of Washington. Most of you will concur, unless you are on vacation in Texas. Then it would be warm, wet and tornadoes! Climate change is a real deal. What is causing that change might be up for debate, but change is not.

Such change means that as a farmer, I have to mitigate risk all the time, even though by “nature” many of us farmers are risk averse (and this farmer is really risk averse.) But, because of where I live and farm, I have the opportunity to grow a great variety of crops and can even grow crops throughout the year. Toss in a greenhouse or hoop house, some propane, some artificial light and a you can make it Spring a whole lot earlier. But then, that would be more like farming in California and I have chosen to farm here.

How I remember when I first caught the farming bug. 1993 was the year and I was working in Portland Oregon at Kruger’s Specialty Produce as one of the produce guys that built displays in the produce section. Every day Organic growers would come to the store and bring in fresh lettuce, berries, and carrots. That’s when I caught the farming bug and I am afraid there is really no cure. We had a couple of kiddos and 32 sq. ft. of growing space and we were on our way. Every first-generation farmer starts with their first crop; mine was lettuce and that year I grew the most beautiful head of lettuce.

We wanted to farm so badly but needed to find an actual farm of our own. I still remember loading up the kiddos and heading to Goldendale or Tonasket or Montesano to look at a farm, but every time we came back to Snohomish County, literally when we crossed over the County line, we knew that this is where we wanted to farm, to live, and raise a family. It hasn’t been an easy journey, but oh so rewarding.

Fast forward 24 years. I am still growing the most beautiful heads of lettuce and many more vegetables and fruit. But every year, when I harvest that first head of lettuce it recreates that magical moment for me, the moment Klesick Farms was born, the moment I became a farmer.

Growing good food for your family,

Tristan Klesick

Farmer, Health Advocate

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Weekend Warrior

Maybe Aging Warrior is a better title for this newsletter. After 20 years of farming and two solid weeks of Spring pruning, my shoulders and elbows are feeling like the 51-year-old grandpa I am. I love pruning. I find it an art, a forgiving art mind you, because the trees always seem to accept my attempts to reshape them and give me fruit in return.

The average age of farmers is going up. I think we are hovering around 57 years old. America needs to find a way for a younger crop of farmers to join our ranks and make a living at the same time. No small task, considering the cost of school debt, car payments, insurance, let alone retirement that many of our young potential farmers are incurring as they start their careers. These are some of the factors that make it hard for a new crop of farmers to join our ranks.

Another factor is that farming is a relentless task master. Yes, it comes with huge rewards: fresh air, invigorating highs when you first plow, followed by harvest. But, it is also equally de-invigorating when a crop fails or languishes.

The weather “windows” can be tight as an eye of a needle or as wide as the Grand Canyon. (I prefer the latter.) But the weather is what it is and a farmer needs to be ready and accept what is given. Farmers have not chosen an easy path.

But every year, small and large farmers and all farmers at heart, begin to awake from their winter slumbers when the day length increases filling our veins with new hope and energy. Seed catalogs arrive and crop plantings get figured out. Fertilizers, compost and foliar spray programs get “penciled” to the paper version of the farm schedule.

Currently, this is where I find myself in the great theatre of farming. We are getting close. If Spring is early, I will be ready. If it is late, I will be anxious. Anxious, not because of the weather, but because the windows to get the work done will be compressed. Then often, something will have to give, kind of like Yahtzee. In farming you only get one chance a year to plant and harvest.

Thankfully, I can get most of my winter dreaming and planning done during the spring, summer and fall seasons. This variability is what makes farming so satisfying–working with nature to produce an incredible harvest of tasty, healthy, life giving fruits and vegetables. When the farm gives us that bounty, all the aches and pains, all the headaches and recalculations, are all but forgot. The farm and the farmer have done their work and a local community has been fed well.

Tristan Klesick

Farmer/Health Advocate

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Farewell

Last week Joelle and I travelled east of the mountains to Pasco for a funeral. A family friend’s father had passed away and we went to help with prepping of food and what not for the funeral and reception following. Planning a funeral is a lot like planning a wedding except you only get a few weeks at most to pull it together.

Jim had been a member of the same community for 75 years, married 57 years, had four daughters, 11 grandkids and 2 greats. Besides raising children and blessing his grandchildren, Jim was an Alfalfa hay farmer.

Alfalfa was his crop of choice. Jim, his brother and their father cleared the sage brush, leveled out the sand dunes bringing that rough piece of ground into productive crop land. As I sat there at the funeral with over 300 people listening to memories after memories, I was thinking you never know who you are impacting.

Many of those 300+ people who attended the funeral had intersected at a particular point in time with Jim, some from his youth, others from work relationships, and of course, family–siblings for the whole ride, wife and children and grandchildren having the closest interactions.

Jim and my path crossed not because of farming, but because we were friends with his kids and our kids were friends with his grandkids. My first memory of Jim was at a soccer game. I was the coach and my son Stephen and Ian, Jim’s grandson, were playing a game. Grandpa and Grandma had come over for the weekend to take in the festivities. Throughout the funeral, it was apparent that Grandpa and Grandma had made participating in their children and grandchildren’s lives a priority. Now many of you may not know many older farmers, but they are not that much different than other hardworking folks from that generation. Jim was still strong as an ox. You could tell from his handshake that he was well acquainted with work as his hand engulfed yours followed by a steady strong look into your eyes that communicated trust and respect–and maybe a little measure of how many 3 string bales of Alfalfa you could stack! Our relationship was a new one and far too short. Every day each of us get an opportunity to bless someone, sometimes for a moment or a little longer or a lifetime. We will never know most of the impacts that we will have on many of those relationships, but last weekend was a reminder to me to make the most of every one of them.

In every relationship, every interaction, let’s be generous and kind in all that we do because when we pass from this life to the next, our impact on our local communities will be through those relationships and the generations still here. Jim’s life left an impact on at least 300 + people, including mine.

Tristan Klesick, Farmer/Health Advocate

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Thoughts with Ashley

We’re nearing that point in winter where I find myself in a bit of a cooking lull. Nearing? Okay, we’re there. Spring feels as if it’s starting to show the first signs of arrival through tiny green buds popping up on branches that appeared dead just the day before. The other morning while sitting near the fire drinking my coffee in the almost-dark I heard the sweet melody of a few birds having a conversation. Perhaps I’m imagining these signs but I’ll take them.

The weariness shows up mostly when it’s time to cook dinner. The ingredients start to all look the same; cauliflower, carrots, and all other forms of hard root vegetables that manage to survive the harshness of a winter ground. I miss the frilly leaves of spring greens and the sweet juicy bite of a strawberry. But through this lull, if I’m able to muster enough energy for creativity, I can relish the seemingly limited resources of the season and pull out some very satisfying meals.

Recognizing this is, as they say, the first step. I realize that finding joy in the kitchen again is not just a matter of waiting for the next season – if we spent all our time waiting for joy we’d miss so much of it. Instead I’m setting myself up for success in the kitchen. I wish you could all see what my pantry looked like currently. There are bags of beans and sacks of lentils strewn out all over the floor as they wait their new home in a tidy labeled jar. This cleaner, sleeker pantry will be the start of many wonderful meals. With a stocked pantry and a fridge full of produce anything is possible.

When feeling a bit creatively challenged in the kitchen I love wandering the produce section and grabbing something completely foreign and unknown to me. I’m sure there are times you’ve opened up your box and reached for something that looked more like sea creature than vegetable. I mean have you ever seen a celeriac (celery root)? – they are indeed delicious by the way. I’ve learned so much about food by pushing myself into a little discomfort.

Here’s to happier, joyful and creative cooking!

Ashley Rodriguez

Food Blogger, notwithoutsalt.com