The Heart Hurts

and there are no Monarchs

I’ve long said, in both a serious and joking fashion, that I am simply too soft-hearted to be a farmer. I’ve also been told, both jokingly and seriously, that I take things too personally. More than one person has informed me that these traits are going to make being a farmer or a teacher or an advocate very difficult. I’ve been told I need to develop a thick skin and not let things get to me so much.

Heck, I’ve told myself I need to develop a thick skin. Hasn’t worked out thus far. My heart still breaks too easily.

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One of the Mighty Oaks at the Genuine Faux Farm

Confluence of Events

Tammy and I have been enjoying seeing the bird activity at the farm. Many of the songbirds are still singing and some young birds are fledging. We’ve been able to spot the Yellow Warbler, House Finch and Baltimore Oriole fairly easily in the Mighty Oaks this year. There was no small amount of delight as we were able to track a Red-breasted Grosbeak and a Tennessee Warbler and they moved around in the branches. And it’s always a small joy to see a Robin’s nest and the parent feeding the young.

Except, these birds should not be that easy for us to see. Now that we are in mid-June, it should be safe to say that the trees on the farm are fully leafed out. But the canopy on the Mighty Oaks is sparser than it should be. Closer inspection reveals that they are suffering from herbicide damage.

It hurts my heart. My job is to try and speak out and stop herbicide drift. But I can’t even protect the trees that stand thirty feet from my own home.

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We were driving back from visiting family. There are several options that we could choose for our route home and this time we opted to go through Cedar Falls. As a matter of fact, we did not really make the decision until we were at the intersection that would determine where we were going next.

Both of us needed to find a restroom, so we pulled into a convenience store / gas station and were greeted with the sight of an individual holding a sign next to an old RV unit.

“Need Gas”

I talked briefly with the person holding the sign as a small girl grinned at me shyly over a very messy and rapidly melting ice cream cone. Tammy took care of getting a giftcard inside the store in hopes that it would make some difference for them in their journey.

He told me they were trying to get to Chicago and the Romanian Consulate General. It was there that he hoped to get the papers and support he needed to return to Romania.

He’d been in the US for three years. But now there were no jobs for him. Now he feels threated and he was scared. He has a small child that he must care for and he was trying to take what seemed to be the best route to do just that. The US had been a place that held opportunity, but now it held terror and desperation.

It was clear that getting to the Romanian Consulate represented a small thread of hope that he was holding onto desparately.

He couldn’t really say what would happen after that.

And my heart hurt as I realized that the land I call my home was responsible for driving this person - with a small child - to the edge.

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I stepped outside during a break in the rain and stopped abruptly on the sidewalk that leaves our house. A tiny, baby skunk was staggering next to our gravel drive. It was clearly ill or injured or malnourished. It had insects buzzing around it and it was not far from its final moments on this world.

I know full well that I don’t want to tangle with a skunk. I suspect all of you know that they can spray and the smell is not pleasant. A baby skunk can spray as early as eight days after birth. While it is not as potent as an adult, dealing with skunk smell wasn’t on the day’s agenda.

The other concern had to do with the possible reasons the skunk was struggling. It could have been rabies or another disease or it could be due to the large numbers of gnats we have in our area right now.

Or it could be more than one thing.

It doesn’t matter now. It was dying and I proceeded to deliver a final blow.

Then I removed the carcass.

And I grieved while I did it. Because my heart is too soft.

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I heard the news about the individual who hunted down and shot two Minnesota legislators and their spouses (both in the Democratic Party) and I realized that my work with PAN over the past few years has brought me into contact with more politicians than any other time in my life. While I did not personally know MN House Speaker Hortman or Senator Hoffman, I can easily imagine this being some of the legislators and their spouses I now know a bit more about in Iowa.

You can disagree with these people - that’s fine. You can even be very frustrated and angry with them. You can even decide you don’t particularly like them, I guess. But this? This is more than just a little wrong.

It was made worse by people who were using their positions as influencers to suggest who this person was - well before law enforcement officials were given a chance to do their job. It’s even sadder to hear that some people have decided that the (D) next to the names of both of these persons somehow makes what this person do “less bad.”

Believe it or not, there are some good people who seek election. And if we accept assassination as a political action EVEN A TINIEST BIT, the less likely it is that some of the truly wonderful people with a servant’s heart will represent us and the greater good.

All of this hurts my heart. But at the root of it is still this:

One human killed and severely wounded four other people intentionally and with forethought.

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No Monarchs

A lone Monarch floated around the house a couple of days ago. It saw the milkweed that had volunteered next to our sidewalk and paused to lay some eggs.

That milkweed is NOT going anywhere this year.

Traditionally, my heart has been gladdened by the sight of a butterfly. They might be some of my favorites in all of creation.

But recently, I find my heart weeping when they flutter by.

It hurts because I am aware of the information shown above. While this does not account for all over-wintering sites, it is enough to confirm the general trend.

It hurts because I have witnessed several years where there were far more than one Monarch visiting the milkweed at the Genuine Faux Farm. It hurts because it doesn’t feel like we’re taking this loss seriously enough to make a difference in time.

It hurts because I can already feel the butterfly shaped hole that will throb continuously when the last Monarch makes its final flight.

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And No Kings

I spent the past two weeks working hard to get several things put together for my job at PAN. I was preparing for a week off where I could focus at the farm.

Despite my “absence” from PAN this week, there will be multiple items I authored that will go through the editing/proofing pipeline before being released. It will be almost as if I was still there. Those who are subscribed to this Substack will also get a peak at those items over the course of the next couple of weeks too.

Whether I want to be or not, I am an advocate and I take that job seriously. I expend lots of emotional energy doing it - especially given my official capacity as “introvert extraordinaire.” So, when Saturday rolled around and the “No Kings” protests in our area started, I stayed home to cultivate the squash, flowers, sweet corn and potatoes.

And I stayed home because I was nursing the pain in my heart. Pushing a wheel hoe was going to help me excercise it and perhaps exorcise a few things as well. It’s what I truly needed to be able to keep doing what I do.

Tammy, on the other hand, went and participated at the Waverly protest.

I can’t tell you how proud I am of her for doing it. We live in the country. We are still trying to do more farming than we probably have time and we knew there was rain coming. We have a lot on our plate and there are plenty of good reasons that would excuse us from attending.

Nonetheless, she attended.

The people there were positive, supportive and kind. The event was peaceful and even joyful at times. A significant number of the participants are very active in their churches (Christian or otherwise) and they are all very concerned that our current President, the current federal administration, and the politicians currently controlling Iowa politics have put themselves up to being above the law and above accountability to the people. They are concerned that current policies and actions by these politicians are intentionally seeking those they do not like and intending to do them harm.

These people believe that HOW you get there matters. These people know that it is not wrong to want good things for others. And the crowds are filled with individuals who would really rather be weeding their gardens, picnicking in the park, or reading a book.

For the most part, these people were just like Tammy and I.

We and they work hard at our jobs. We and they care for others. We and they don’t think we’re special except, maybe, to each other and some small subset of the people in this world.

They don’t really want to attend protests because it’s counter to what many of them really like doing.

But they have anyway because it is one of the ways we can work to make a difference together. While I may not have physically attended the “No Kings” protest on Saturday, I am still standing with them.

I stand with my words. And hopefully with enough strength to do the good deeds that need doing.

Even if they break my heart.