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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

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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