Glysophate in Flour

Amber waves of grain. Photo by Cindy Hill

It Could Be Glysophate, not Gluten, Bugging Your Tummy

Since the 1980s, glysophate -- aka Roundup -- has been used off-label by non-organic-certified grain growers to dessicate (dry) the grain before harvest and grinding.  Glysophate is at heart a salt, which is why it kills leafy weeds, and why it can be used to drive the moisture out of grains.

The University of Minnesota Cooperative Extension describes this process and use in a 2002 edition of its Prairie Grains newsletter. The FAO's 2005 survey of pesticide residues in food found that glysophate residues remained in flour and were not removed by milling. 

Having baked all my own bread (and pizza crust and everything else) for decades, I was baffled to find the unbleached commercially popular brand of flour that I've always used getting drier, chalkier, and harder to work with over the last five years or so. I was nearly doubling the water in my usual bread recipe, and there was still something 'off' with the texture. I've deduced that the use of glysophate to dry the grain is the most likely answer, though higher-speed, hotter milling processes might also be a factor. 

Mother Earth News did a fabulous job this past spring of presenting the latest scientific information on this subject, a technical article from the Journal of Interdisciplinary Toxicology on the question of whether glysophate, rather than gluten, could be the cause of the American epidemic of a wide array of ailments running from the merely embarassing digestive distress to the fatal, and including mental and emotional health ramifications like depression. 

I've had numerous friends making the anecdotal link in their own lives between eating white flour and having episodes of negative, sometimes extremely dark, mood changes. I had started noticing problems of my own associated with eating flour. I was wary, however -- was I  merely influenced by my friends, or by the trendiness of gluten intolerance?  Was I misattributing symptoms of menopause to eating toast? Trying my objective best, I found that I really did feel better on days I didn't eat flour. I cut my flour consumption way back, and tried to balance any bread with a hefty dose of fruits and vegetables, which I found minimized digestive reactions. My hand-crank pasta machine sat unused on the shelf, which was very sad. My husband -- our household bread baker -- kept cranking out loaves, complaining ever more about the chalkiness of the flour. 

Then, my food co-op started getting in an array of local organic flours. I started buying a cup or two of one or another and baking a loaf of bread with it. Champlain Valley Milling Corporation and Gleason Grains are just two of the growing list of locally grown and/or locally milled organic -- no glysophate -- flours in my neck of the woods. I started returning to my usual bread consumption habits -- with no ill effects. In fact, quite the opposite. 

Last night I used Nitty Gritty Grain Company's high-protein extra fine organic whole wheat flour to make pasta for the summer's first batch of pesto -- and I was blown away by how alive it felt. The pasta is springy and flavorful and went through the hand-cranked Imperia pasta machine in silky, beautiful sheets. 

Obviously anyone experiencing gastric and digestive distress or more serious medical symptoms like depression and exhaustion should seek medical attention and follow the advice of your doctor. But if your health permits it, or if you are just trying to find better, healthier, pesticide-residue-free flour that doesn't behave like chalk dust, hunt down locally-milled organic alternatives (or mail order from any of the above suppliers) and give it a try. 

Back to School: Joybilee Farm and Vermont Outdoors Women Doe Camp

Schools and magazines trying to sell you things are a dime a dozen, but few of them are marketing Joy.  Joybilee Farm in British Columbia does just that, with a school for self-reliant skills that pledges to help you "laugh at time to come." Chris Dalziel homesteads, homeschools, writes, raises fiber animals and linen, and lives to share her passion for the independent, authentic life through her blog and facebook page that facilitate the growth of a homesteading community.  Sign up for her free newsletter, and get her free booklet "4 Keys to Security and Homestead Abundance" which should be required reading in every Home Economics 101 course ever taught. Chris offers online tutorials, a subscription service to homesteading kindle books, and an annual linen festival camp-out at the farm amongst other learning opportunities.


Women can find a warm, supporting, fun environment amidst the beautiful Green Mountains of Vermont at the Vermont Outdoors Women Fall Doe Camp.  VOW's mission is "to encourage and enhance the participation of women of all ages and abilities in outdoor activities through hands-on education." At Doe Camp, you can opt learn to canoe, navigate by the stars, cook fresh-caught trout, shoot archery or firearms, fish, kayak, start a fire with flint and steel, hunt turkeys or pan for gold.

Your self-confidence grows with your self-sufficiency, and your food security, health and economic well being are all improved as your relationship to the land becomes richer and deeper, be it through learning new wild foods to forage, new fly fishing skills, or how to sheer a sheep and spin and knit your own sweater. Going back to school with resources like Joybilee Farm and Vermont Outdoors Women are great places to start taking steps towards your own independence and food security.

Bees

Bees love aromatic herbs like anise hyssop.

Bees are the whirling spirit of the garden, moving in mysterious circles, lifting away the scent and essence of each flower drop by drop and transporting it to be transformed into clear amber bliss. 

Bees have been in big trouble lately, plagued with mites, colony collapse disorder and pesticide poisoning. Though it's not politically correct to say so, I also have to question whether some of the large-scale commercial beekeeping operations don't also contribute to a weakening of their bee populations. Keeping millions of bees in warehouses and tractor trailers, feeding the, (gmo?) sugar water, and traveling with them over huge areas must be disorienting to a species which has a highly-honed sense of direction and communication, I would think. 

I opt for honey from local, smaller beekeeping operations, and plant many things to help attract the bees to my garden. It's delightful and meditative to sit and spend a summer afternoon watching them buzz contentedly around sunflowers, anise hyssop, oregano blooms, borage, echinacea, and the drifts of white clover that I seed through my (what passes for) little patch of lawn.  (For the record, I hate lawn -- but I can't plant anything substantial over the leach field.) 

I try not to use anything in the way of pesticides; when I do, it's hot pepper wax spray, and I do my earnest best to direct it right to the greens and stems where it's needed (usually on cabbage and other brassicas in bad cabbage looper years, and also on vining squash stem bases for borers), avoiding flowers. That way the spirit of the garden will continue to bless my patch of earth with buzzing and abundance. 

Saving Seed

Saving peas for next year's garden.

 If gardening is the most revolutionary act you can do at home, then saving seed must be the radical fringe of the revolution. Needless to say,I am a dedicated seed-saver and have been working slowly but steadily to improve my seed-saving savvy from year to year. 

Slow and steady seems to be my watchword with all food production. Each year I add one or two new wild foods or mushrooms to my plate, a few more square feet of garden area and a few more garden crops, and now one or two new kinds of seed to save.

I have long saved flower seeds, particularly marigolds, calendulas, nasturtiums, and lots of perennials. I also nudge along a bunch of self-seeding annuals, preparing the soil around them and then helping the seed ponds make it safely to lightly-covered fertile ground. 

 My vegetable seed saving started with beans, of course. I say 'of course' because they are really easy, and beans don't tend to cross-pollinate. Nothing fancy about it, just let some pods stay on the vines or bushes and dry out. Ditto with scarlet runner beans.

But for some reason I never saved over peas, until this year. Maybe it's because I buy very large packets of peas to plant and they last several years. But this year I saved the three best kinds of peas (one snap variety, two fresh eating types) and am looking forward to seeing how they do next year. 

Butterflies love kale flowers.

Kale seedpods are delicate.

I've been saving over kale seed for many years. Kale blooms and goes to seed in its second year. What I do each year is just leave the kale in the garden in the fall, pick leaves as late into the year as I can (they stay green under the snow for a while), and then in the spring, I watch to see which plants come back earliest and most vigorously. The others I pull -- either to the compost bin if they didn't come back, or after pulling off the young leaves to eat if they made a slow showing. Then I let the most energetic ones grow and go to seed.

Butterflies love the yellow spikes of kale flowers. You can keep pulling leaves off to eat (green smoothies, yum) all through the summer season. When the stalks of seed pods turn dry and brown, cut off the stalk, then roll the pods on a plate and sort out the tiny round seeds. The dried pods are very delicate and will pop open at the slightest touch, so handle them gently -- but don't worry, one kale plant produces enough seed to sow far more than my entire garden! 

Do pull your seeds from multiple plants, however, to maintain genetic diversity in your garden kales. 

I'm pondering learning to save over one more type of seed this year, and I'm voting for my Boothby Blonde (OP) cucumbers. Any other ideas for an easy save? 
 

Food Security and Climate Change

Some years peppers are abundant; others, not so much.

This June our local weather here in Vermont has been abysmal. Rain is about two inches over the average for this month, and the month isn't over yet. 

Our deluge appears to be the result of a Persistent Arctic Cyclone of unusual duration. Speculation is running rampant as to whether this is tied to global climate change, and climatologists and sea ice specialists are intently discussing the relationship of the cyclone to sea-ice breakup and a rising thermocline in arctic waters. 

Be that as it may, my garden is seeing record rains. My pepper plants, so fabulously lush last year, look like drowned rats. Several eggplant plants have died. Yet other things are thriving. All the greens, from lettuce to cabbage, could not be happier. I've never had this many peas in all my  years of gardening. And I've been eating beets and turnips out of the garden a month earlier than usual. 

My home food security relies on resiliency arising from planting a wide diversity of food crops, sprinkled with a substantial layer of flexible attitude. I don't dictate to my garden what it will produce. I let my garden tell me what is going to grow well, and just roll with that. 

I never know from one year to the next whether this is going to be a hot dry summer or a cold wet summer (or heck, as it is so far this year, a hot wet summer). So I plant sweet potatoes and kale, hot peppers and overwintering cabbage, tomatoes and arugula -- things that like hot, and things that like cold. I see how the weather is going.  I see what withers and what flourishes. I watch the sky and the almanac and eavesdrop on the farmers in the diner and then take a risk and throw in an extra row of peas or an extra flat of basil. 

I may not get the same produce every year, but whatever I get is a bounty and a blessing and I figure out what to do with it. Last year I had more hot peppers than I'd imagined possible in my small Vermont garden. I dried a bunch, made mountains of salsa, and then looked at the last bucket full and decided to try making hot sauce, which turned out wonderfully.  This year does not exactly look like it's going to be a hot pepper year, but I'll be using that hot sauce on my abundance of turnip greens tonight. 

In bad tomato years, I've made zucchini salsa instead, or batches of apple-green tomato chutney. When the brussels sprouts never came in, we ate the tender delicious greens off the top of the brussels sprouts stems. When the radishes started bolting early instead of forming radishes, I yanked them out, threw them to the chickens, and swiftly planted some heat-loving summer squash in their place. 

Our industrial food system, however, is so large and commercial-market-driven that farmers -- agricultural industrialists -- are not responding to the land and letting the earth and climate guide their hand in what to plant to produce healthful abundance. The drive to deliver X amount of wheat for processed white flour, or iceberg lettuce to decorate burger buns, or watermelons of a certain size and color to meet a contract with a huge supermarket chain, means that the resiliency I've built into my garden is utterly lacking. Flexibility and redundancy are not watchwords of our current food economy. And that puts our large-scale food supply at risk. 

While this risk can be seen as driven by commercial agricultural interests, it can also be seen as responding to market forces. The American consumer demand for white bread, white potato fries, and corn means that vast quantities of these monocrops will be grown -- at least until they fail.

Anything that you can do at home to diversify your food sources will help to ameliorate this large-scale risk. Grow some salad greens or sprouts on a windowsill or porch; buy from a farmers market or swap with a local gardener; even buying types of produce that you haven't tried before (kohlrabi? parsley root?) will help to encourage diversity in food markets. Go for the locally baked multi-grain breads, the brown eggs, the cornmeal from a small regional company. Your choices will help our food systems weather the storms of change.

 

BATNA: Lessons from Conflict Resolution

Self-Reliance Improves Your BATNA

 

My conflict resolution students swiftly learn to apply the word BATNA to every conflict situation. The principle of Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement means that anyone negatively affected by another person or entity should first look for options that are wholly within their own control to improve their own position in a way that will minimize the impact of the actions of others.

For example:  Afraid your place of employment might be downsizing? Bolster your eduction and job skills to make yourself as valuable in your workplace and as employable elsewhere as possible; start up other income streams, even small ones like selling some homemade items on Etsy, so that when your employment ends it won't feel quite like dropping off a cliff. Or, relationship on rocky ground with an uncertain future? Strengthen your network of friends and community, and shore up your financial independence; the boost in self-confidence may help put the relationship on better terms, or will clarify its ending without feeling like the your whole life is ending, too.

Every day brings us reports that food prices are rising, food production is down while population is skyrocketing, climate change is bringing drastic shifts in agriculture and patterns of civilization, and the food reaching our grocery store shelves is full of GMOs, lead, arsenic, high-fructose corn syrup, and a host of chemicals with names we can't pronounce. Health care costs are soaring while our health is diminishing.

It often feels as if we are ever-increasingly the helpless victims of massive corporate and governmental forces that we can not possibly control. Do we even have a BATNA in the face of what experts say is global environmental and economic collapse?

It is true that there are many things in life which any one of us can not control. Yet, you always -- ALWAYS -- have a BATNA. There is always some realm of your existence over which you have at least some modicum of control, about which you can make choices and formulate decisions to better your own position.

The food we eat is an area of our life over which we exercise a large amount of control. As supermarket prices rise and family budgets shrink, it sometimes may not feel that way, but it's true. Remember how I said that in the face of possible job loss, starting even a tiny sideline income stream was useful to improve your position? So it is with food. Even the smallest step towards food independence begins to free you from the power of the corporate agriculture giants and reduces the harmful impact of other people's actions on your body, wallet, and family.

Growing sprouts or shoots on the edge of the kitchen sink adds a nutrient-rich green vegetable to helps stretch your grocery shopping dollars and boosts your health. One pot on an apartment balcony with a single cherry tomato plant and some lettuce will give you fresh, nearly free salads all summer, helping to offset shortened summer work hours. Buying at the local farmers market is a fabulous option if you don't have growing space or time -- and can be cheaper than you thing, especially if you come at the end of the day and negotiate. (Many farmers markets also take EBT cards and some states provide food-assistance recipients with extra farmers markets coupons as well.)

Buying produce in season and throwing some in the freezer creates a buffer for lean times. Eating lower on the food chain -- lentils instead of meat some nights of the week--is cheaper and healthier. Drinking ordinary tap water instead of soda or other bottled drinks saves money and could be the best single thing you could do for your health.

Any one of these little steps empowers you by moving you one small step further away from the impact of decisions made by corporate agriculture--yet without any diminishment in the quality of your life or health. In fact, you'll improve your health, reduce your anxiety over food bills, and likely develop new tastes and food interests that will enrich your life far more than the box of expensive powdered donuts could have ever done. BATNA is about making yourself stronger and freeing yourself from the shadow of others' power over you. The more you re-assert your control over the food you eat, the stronger your BATNA, and the less power bad news about food prices and supplies will have over your life.

Growing Things That Come Back: Permaculture For the Rest of Us

There's an old saying that Society Creates the Crime. It could also be said that Society Creates the Trendy Environmental Solution.  

Locally-grown organic food, for example, could only be considered a neat thing by a society which has abandoned locally grown organic agriculture, and then embraces it as a fashionable passion as if it had just been newly discovered. In a way, it's akin to Columbus 'discovering' a half of a planet which was already inhabited by many millions of people. 

'Permaculture' is one of those trendy cocktail-party words that left-leaning publishing houses just can't seem to print enough about. Only a society which had entirely converted to exotic, non-sustainable decorative landscaping, maintained through intensive chemical and labor interventions, could think of permaculture as a trendy new invention discovered by white men from some upscale north-eastern university instead of good-old fashioned practicality. 

For those of us who are not much concerned about how our gardening methods sound to the cocktail-party set, planting things that come back year after year and work well in our local climate and soil is not only common sense, but is cost-effective, environmentally sound, and an efficient means of feeding both body and soul.  Native plants -- in my neck of the woods, mint, sunflowers, black-eyed susan, joe pye weed, Jerusalem artichokes, bee balm, etc.-- and their cultivars make a natural starting place. 

Rhubarb and Jerusalem Artichokes Return Every Year

Locally-adapted, low-care perennial flowers, herbs, fruits and vegetables create a rich and beautiful home environment needing only annual additions of compost and frequent picking. Rhubarb, irises, daffodils, thistles, anise hyssop, rue, oregano, marjoram, aloe, bleeding hearts, elderberry, blueberries, hibiscus, sand cherry bushes, yarrow, echinacea, all come back year after year. 

Self-seeding annual herbs and flowers like sweet williams, cilantro, parsley, bachelor's buttons, lupines, walking onions, multiplier onions, pansies and johnny jump-ups, all establish their own patches and do not need to be replanted each year. Just refresh with a little compost and weed out any intruding grass or other unwanted species to give them a competitive advantage.

Sunflowers self-seed each year, and give goldfinches and other songbirds a place to perch between eating garden bugs. Lilac hedges provide heavenly scent and a practical wind-break. Kale, left to regrow a second season, provides edible flowers loved by butterflies -- and a crop of easily-saved seed to replant. 

The high-end permaculture books would have you believe that this trendy new idea requires consultants, graph paper, earth-moving equipment and a huge financial investment. None of that is true. All it takes is attention to where you live and in the space you have, and to what you want to get out of that space.There's no point planting a big asparagus patch if you can't stand asparagus. Look at what you've got for space, light and soil; look around you and talk to your neighbors about what grows well for them; and plant what works.