Pictures: Lyle Such
Words: Thu Buu
Camera: Canon 5D Mk IV & Mavic Pro
This year, Lyle’s family reunion was in Minnesota. Coincidentally, Lake Itasca, the source of the iconic Mississippi River is also located in Minnesota. Life along the great Mississippi has been the inspiration for and setting of so many classic American novels, most notably, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and its sequel, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. But I have yet to touch this legendary body of water. The idea of a Tom Sawyer/Huck Finn themed vacation was hatched more than a year before the reunion was even planned. Through a tangled twist of fate, my nephew, Andrew Buu, was able to accompany us on this journey and play the part of the mischievious Tom Sawyer. In preparation, we all read or reread both Mark Twain classics to familiarize ourselves with the characters, events and themes woven through these novels. We had to then determine which parts of the novels we wanted to act out or which themes we wanted to explore in depth. Frankly, Lyle and I were uncertain if a teenager would even enjoy a road trip to discover life in the olden days. Especially since Andrew’s family had just literally returned from a month-long road trip throughout the USA, we were apprehensive of our ability to keep him engaged and interested with the activities we had planned.
Wow! Liberty Farms. Where do I even begin? Joe Cavan is a true kindred spirit from my days at UC San Diego. His passion for life and his caring disposition have always been such endearing characteristics. Coupled with his need to move, act and make things happen, Joe has accomplished so much. It is amazing for me to see how his dream has brought him back to Iowa, to Edd, and to this beautiful farm, where an honest day’s work begins before sunrise and doesn’t end until after dark. Joe and Edd have grand plans for Liberty Farms as a place to encourage societal progress, a place for those marginalized to find space and refuge, a place to introduce urban youths to nature and so much more. We are positive that this grand plan will become reality in the near future. But for now, we are electrified and so grateful for the opportunity to share in their current ambition for Liberty Farms as a gathering place of friends, family, and for those looking to live out the American Dream.
After an introductory tour of the farm, we were ready to do some exploring ourselves. Reagan decided to be our guide. For some unknown reason, I was not deathly afraid of Reagan, the Sheriff of the farm. This was a big first for me. Perhaps it was because he didn’t really care about getting my attention. He had his job to do on the farm. He instinctively knew that Lyle and Andrew were better companions and left me alone most of the time. We even went swimming in the same pond, and I didn’t drown from fright! Reagan is the most well-trained dog I know (besides Nutmeg, of course).
It had been exactly 20 years since Joe and I last saw each other at our commencement from Roosevelt College, UCSD. They say good friends pick up exactly where they left off. And it was just like that for us. We were instantly family again. Our three days on the farm flew by so quickly that we never really had another chance to take a better group picture than this one on Andrew’s phone. Standing outside on the back deck facing the pond at sunset, we were pleasantly surprised that there weren’t any pesky insects around. To be honest, mosquitos was one of my biggest fear about going to the farm. However, we learned that if the ecosystem is balanced, nature will take care of herself. On the farm, that translates to swallows feeding on the mosquitos. There are two swallow nests, one in the old barn and one in the new barn. Andrew really wanted to start a giant bonfire, but the winds were too active, so we moved to the brazier near the garden, away from the swallows. We quickly realized what excellent hunters swallows are. After swatting at invisible mosquitos only to get stung elsewhere, we decided to let the fire die and retreat into the house.
We woke up to a misty morning with wisps of fog gliding across the quiet pastures, laying a soft kiss of dew on each blade of grass. The crisp air, pastel horizon and the diffused glow of the rising sun delightfully signals the start of a brand new, beautiful day out in the countryside. We slowly meandered up towards the sagging old barn, stopped for a short morning chat with the goats and kids, then continued to the top of the hill. Among the thin stalks of hay, we set up a timelapse looking down at the barn and sat back to watch the farm wake up.
As Lyle flew Crevit around taking ariel footage of the land, I got to work. There was so much to do on the farm. Joe said that if we wanted to eat, we needed to go dig up and pick our own food. So off to the garden I went. For the first time ever, I dug up potatoes. Giant potatoes hiding under rich, dark Iowan topsoil. My morning’s harvest included some cucumbers, tomatoes, and bell peppers. By the end of my morning picking session, the bottom of my jeans were thoroughly wet, a telltale sign of my beginner’s status. I learned to put on boots before tramping around the farm. Not only did they protect my pants from dirt and dew, they also protected my shoes from other less desirable animal left overs.
We really couldn’t say that we did a Tom Sawyer themed vacation without actually floating on a genuine log raft, now could we? And where can one find a bonafide log raft these days. Well, nowhere, really. So that was it. We had to build our own raft if we wanted to float on one. Months prior to our trip, I began my research. I even called the local lumberyards around Osceola. “We probably have what you need. Just come in when you get in town.” Well that wasn’t too helpful. I thought about cutting down my own timber from the trees on the farm, but Lyle said that was insane. That was too much work, and we would never get it done in three days. I shared my idea with Joe and Edd, but I wasn’t so sure they quite understood what I had in mind. Edd said they had lots of wood and planks lying around the property. Feeling uncertain about the fruition of my dreams, I preemptively reasoned with myself that I would compromise and be okay with building a raft made of planks and not of logs. It would still count as a bonafide raft as long as I used only ropes and no nails. But deep down, I knew I would still be somewhat disappointed if it weren’t made of logs.
A month before the trip, I started relearning how to tie knots. I made four prototypes out of bamboo to practice and test out the knots and structure of the rafts. After floating the fourth prototype down a creek at camp, I felt pretty solid about my raft building abilities. To my delight, when Edd showed us the piles of wood he had sitting in the field, there they were, the exact round logs I had in mind. Perfect. I couldn’t wait to get started. I had to get into character, so I donned Joe’s overalls and slapped on my straw hat. Knowing that Joe and Edd wouldn’t mind, I helped myself to the ropes I found around the garage and began the project. Lyle and Andrew were really helpful, playing multiple games of chess in the garage to keep me company. It took me 2 hours 30 minutes to put this log raft together, binding it with only ropes. It took Joe, Lyle and me to lift the raft onto the ATV. It was much heavier than I expected. I was ecstatic! But the moment of truth was yet to come. Would it float? And would it stay afloat with us on it?
Joe suggested we use the giant plastic containers as extra floatations just to make sure the raft wouldn’t sink to a muddy grave the moment we put it in the pond. The containers added too much buoyancy, and the raft sat a foot above the water’s surface. We untied the containers and decided to give it a go without extra floatations. Success!!! My beautiful raft was able to hold both Andrew and me at the same time. But Lyle was way too heavy. The next time we visit the farm, I will have to settle some unfinished business. My orginal plan was to tie a bunch of two liter soda bottles into groups and secure seven groups of them to the bottom of the raft. Once I attach the soda bottles to the bottom, the raft will be able to support all three of us. I’m sure of that.
My brother, Andrew’s dad, was quite nervous about his son floating down a river on a homemade raft by his sister who’s never built anything substantial before. I understand his fear, so I promised that Andrew would be wearing a life jacket on the raft. Floating the raft on the pond was just a test run. I would have to tighten some knots and add extra floatations if we were to float it down the river nearby. We ran out of time. That is also on the to do list for our next visit. That afternoon, we spent over three hours paddling around the pond. When Edd got home from work, he and Joe jumped in and tried floating on the raft. Andrew was even able to do some yoga poses on it. Lyle tried to stand up and ride it like a surfboard, but he was just too tall. What a fun time we had. The best part of it all was that it WAS a crazy dream, and thanks to Liberty Farms, this crazy dream didn’t seem so crazy anymore once it was achieved. And that’s the essence of a dream well-lived.
What a display of determination! This old barn is fighting to stay standing with every last nail. Its slow and artful transformation into ruins exemplifies the tough yet romantic spirit of those who call this heartland home. There are no services nearby. No police station, no fire department, no utilities company. Farmers have to be ready to handle any emergency on their own.
In the morning, the goats hang out at the openings of the barn, bathing in the sunlight. For fun, we’d tell Reagan to “Go get ‘em!” and he’d make a circuit into the barn, raise a ruckus forcing the goats to tromp about, then run out through the side with the missing planks and settle down on a shady patch of grass panting happily. Andrew’s goal was to lure a goat with promise of food close enough to get a hug. After many tries, Andrew sort of got his goat hug. In his words, “It was an awkward sideways hug like the one you’d give an Auntie you don’t really know because your mom told you to do it.” Andrew also wanted a photo shoot with the goats, but they weren’t willing participants that day.
Even in this disfigured state, the barn shelters the most famous residents of the farm: the goats, the horses, and the llama. Joe and Edd raise these goats from birth. It’s a tough, sometimes heartbreaking job. Thankfully the joys of healthy, prancing kids romping about the farm is a miraculous salve that mends the heart. Selling goats is the main source of income from which to run the farm.
Meet Nelly Bell and Brother. They’re the resident pigs. Nelly Belle is the black one who was pregnant when we were there. She’d lumber about but mostly stayed close to the new barn. Often we’d find her lying in the shade of the tractors. Brother is an adventurer. In the mornings, we’d find him wandering in the pasture with the horses and cows. In the evenings, he might be near the pond with the ducks or up on the hill behind the old barn. Joe’s had to go find him and make sure he’s back safe inside before nightfall. At dusk and dawn, we often see deer coming onto the farm from the preservation area across the road. It’s a daily reminder that this is truly nature’s territory. Nights here belong to the wild. Wily foxes, mountain lions and the likes have stalked the barns, the chicken coop, and the pond for any chance at an easy meal. Joe says they’ve lost plenty of livestock that way.
One of Andrew’s favorite chores on the farm was to feed these pigs. He found out they eat everything, all day long! Their favorite food was cucumber, which was a good thing. On the second morning there, Joe sent me out to pick cucumbers. Kid-you-not, I picked over 70 big, juicy ones. Joe told me that we were too late harvesting, and many of them have gone past prime, which means they were too bitter to eat or pickle. Nelly Bell and Brother sure didn’t mind. They chomped down on those crunchy treats like there was no tomorrow. Nothing goes to waste on the farm. If the humans couldn’t take care of it, the pigs would.
Andrew and I were sitting on the tractors waiting for Crevit to fly by. Reagan walked up to the red barn and began harassing the chickens who were clucking about minding their own business. Reagan barked at them and chased them around to the back of the barn. We lost sight of him for a minute and then from behind the barn he popped out with just one victim inches in front of him. They tore through the bars and around the rock pile. We could tell that this was a game they were used to playing because when the chicken got tired and slowed down, Reagan would nudge her with his nose encouragingly. The chicken abided. She ran past the chicken coop and out to the field. Andrew and I, caught up in the excitement cheered Reagan on “Get her Reagan! Get ‘er!” And then dead silence. Reagan had her in his mouth, shaking her emphatically. Horrified, we screamed in unison, “No. Reagan! Stop! Let her go. Oh no! Reagan!!!” We couldn’t believe we’ve just supported and witnessed a murder!
Reagan dropped the limp chicken. He pushed it with his snout. It rocked forward and then rolled backwards. “Oh No! The chicken’s dead! Bad Reagan. Stop that!” “Cluck!” Up leapt the chicken who then ran straight for the front chicken coop. Reagan began barking and chased after her. Another chicken joined the game, and the three of them ran round and round and round the chicken wire in a slow motion chase. It was a most comical show! Andrew and I whooped and laughed uncontrollably. “Oh, what a relief!” Later that afternoon, Andrew and I raided the chicken coop. We found four eggs. So interesting. They weren’t even the same colors. We needed eggs. We were addicted to Joe’s homemade cookies! He was spoiling us, baking two, even three batches of steaming hot, mouth-watering cookies every day. They were irresistable. I didn’t know Joe was such a great baker!
On our welcoming tour, Joe introduced us to the animals on the farm. He made corresponding animal sounds to communicate with them. They sound nothing like Old McDonald’s moo-moo cows and oink-oink pigs. Each animal voice was much deeper with so many nuances in just one call. Joe says the cow voice has to originate deep down in the chest so it would come out as a low, substantial, resonating moan. Raising free roaming angus cattle is another way the farm sustains itself. Andrew gave his gourmet angus beef burger a two-thumbs up.
There are two horses on the farm. Milton is named after John Milton, the English Renaissance poet of Paradise Lost, and Buster is the thoroughbred. They like to congregate near the windmill and under the trees in the pasture. They are purely for pleasure riding. We found out too late during our stay that Andrew has never ridden a horse before. That’s something we’ll have to remedy when the next opportunity arises.
This hoity-toity llama was super picky about her treats. She sniffed our offering and turned away! What a food snob! We found out later that she really does have her very own special llama treats. I guess you can blame it on the pregnancy. Look at how her belly bulges on the sides. Mama llamas carry their baby for 11 months. That’s a pretty long gestation period. She’s allowed to be picky.
If we’re doing a Tom Sawyer trip, fishing is a must. And we can’t go fishing without the obligatory straw hat. I bought hats for Andrew and me. I cut the edge of the brim to make the fringe, and then I crumpled up those brand-new hats, stomped on them even, to make them look tattered and old. I think they look pretty authentic and functional. This was Andrew’s first time fishing. He eagerly dug in the mud around the pond for worms, but he had no luck. So we went fishing with just fake worms on the hook. Those smart fishies couldn’t be fooled. Joe said we should try real bait and handed us a container full of giant worms.
Andrew is a natural fisherman. He threw the line into the water with a quick flick of his arm and wrist. The trajectory was clean and perfectly curved. Surprisingly, Andrew has the patience and perseverence of a fisherman. It helped that he had a good role model in Lyle. The boys sat on that deck for over an hour, losing worm after worm to those quick fishies.
I was up on the hill when I heard the frantic exclamations! I looked down towards the pond to see Andrew excitedly dancing around with a fish hooked to his pole. Andrew caught his very first fish, a decent size bass. Lyle showed Andrew how to unhook the fish, and Andrew proudly kissed his catch as is the tradition. After another hour and with only one worm left, Lyle caught a fish also. We had two fresh steamed fish for lunch! Not only did Andrew catch a fish that day, he caught fishing fever. The next day, he went down to the pond for over an hour all by himself. He came back empty-handed but that didn’t deter him from wanting to go fishing any other time we saw a body of water during the rest of the trip.
Reagan, the fearless Sheriff! On our first afternoon roaming around the woods, Reagan decided to accompany us. He ran into the woods ahead of us as if to scout the way. All of a sudden, he caught a scent of something and started running off. We heard him barking, and then we heard it, a low hissing sound. We came closer. Reagan was now standing on a fallen log barking at something curled up inside. He tried to get closer, trying to push his snout into the opening. That didn’t seem like a good idea. Lyle called to Reagan, and he obediently jumped off the jog but ran around to the other end of the log. We peered inside, and there laid an oppossum baring its sharp teeth, taking its last stand against a giant beast, fearing for his life. Reagan wanted to jump back on the log, but Lyle redirected him to continue on with our reconnaissance mission. We were looking for the tree that would be the main support for Joe and Edd’s new project, the Starlab, a treehouse, star observation deck and bar all in one. We didn’t find it. We were in the wrong part of the woods.
Liberty Farms just keeps on giving! Another eagerly anticipated activity was learning about the honeybee colonies. Joe and Edd are also beekeepers. They have two active colonies on the farm. Prior to the trip, I had asked our kindergardeners what they would like to know about bees. Their inquisitive minds supplied me with a list of questions that needed answers in the form of a short TK Bee video.
Since there were only two bee suits, and we needed Lyle to take footage for the video...and because he fit into Edd’s suit much better than me, I was left with Andrew to watch the action from afar. Before suiting up, Lyle was setting up the tripod just a little too close to the colonies; he got stung right in the eyebrow. The dead bee left his guts on Lyle’s face to mark the intruder. The venom continued to irritate Lyle’s eye for over a week.
After learning more about honeybees, we agree with Joe. Honeybees are the Super Stars on the farm. The next time we come visit, I’m bringing along my own bee suit because I want the first hand, up-close experience of tending an active bee colony. I wonder how much honey these colonies produced this year.
Our last morning was spent touring the different fields on the farm with Reagan as our guide again. I especially loved this field way in the back because of the tall, white Queen Anne’s lace that dot the green hillside.