To weatherproof more of the market garden in 2011, we tried a variation on the grow-your-own mulch system we developed for producing winter squash in the fallow fields. We discovered it was possible to mulch row crops like tomatoes, peppers, carrots, onions and leeks by moving windrows of rye into the pathways. Although awkward to handle at first, we soon got the hang of picking up an 8-10’ length of twisted rye straw in our arms and walking it from the fallow lands into the adjacent vegetable field.

Having completed the construction of a new barn many years ago, something appeared missing as I observed from a distance. After some time pondering what was absent, I came to the conclusion the barn was lacking a weather vane on top of the cupola. I decided to come up with something that would be both functional and unique and could be built in the farm shop at little or no expense.

Among my early memories are the countless summer forays into the woods and fence rows with my father in search of berries. In Ohio, it was for wild raspberries usually and wild strawberries if we could find them. I can remember Dad lifting and carrying us kids across large patches of nettles to save our bare legs and arms from their stings as we explored. We came home with our pails of tiny wild berries and a glowing satisfaction in the seek and find trek that left us scratched from one end to the other.

A time came at last, however, when Mr. Bixby seemed to think me far enough advanced to bear a lesson on water reading. So he began: “Do you see that long slanting line on the face of the water? Now, that’s a reef. Moreover, it’s a bluff reef. There is a solid sandbar under it that is nearly as straight up and down as the side of a house. There is plenty of water close up to it, but mighty little on top of it. If you were to hit it, you would knock the boat’s brains out.”

The editor and publisher of this important document is Claus Kropp. He is also the main force behind what is quickly becoming a fresh, well-organized, global campaign to advocate for, to preserve, and to educate about, working cattle for the future.

Moving steadily down the field, the two mule, one mare team pulled the one bottom riding plow easily. Early spring plowing of corn stubble is an easy job – unless the staulks catch on the plow and cause a plug up. In the middle, the mare, perhaps 16.2 hands tall, Liver for her color, almost exactly like fresh cut liver. To her left, in the furrow is Jack, a red mule about 16 hands.

Above the sixtieth parallel, we occupy a northern experiment. The corner of Canada known as the Yukon is remote and relative to the rest of north America, became populated by settlers by and large only in the last 80 years. Farming here is on a small scale. The largest producers might be considered in the hobby farm realm down south. The largest cattle operation has 30 head of cow/calf pairs and similarly, the largest hog producers have 40-50 head.

Dixon was once known as the “Lamb Capital of the World,” because more sheep were raised here than in any other region in the world. At one time, there were about 10,000 sheep for every resident in the city. Prior to the lifting of the lamb embargo in 1965, lamb was the primary industry in Dixon, with dairying a close second. New Zealand imports have seriously impacted the sheep industry in Dixon, however, Superior Farms has retained the packaging plant in Dixon, and is still one of our larger employers. The lamb and wool industries are still a significant contributor to our economy.

“Winter wheat,” a grain crop that is planted in the fall and harvested in the early summer, is quite common; but way back in the beginning of the nation most farmers planted “spring wheat” and harvested it in late summer. As agriculture moved west, some region climates were found to be harsh and better suited to winter wheat.