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& resilience roars by Emily Frenzen

“We knew this day would come because we live in a floodplain and we farm in a floodplain...”

...but no one never expects mother nature’s damage to hit home. And on March 13, 2019, it did. I went home for spring break of my junior year to find the safe haven I call home shaken.

We worked all day every day but I still felt powerless amongst the chaos around me. What was I to do? When the question of fight or flight arises, my fight starts with the act of picking up my camera.

So that's what I did. Ten days after the flood, I sat down with my dad who I consider to be an incredibly strong, compassionate steward of the land.

I recorded our conversation because I knew it was one I wanted to remember. Months later, Raising Nebraska shared his story in the video below at the 2019 Nebraska State Fair.

The days went on and so the farmers went to work to put things back together. In an unexpected event such as this, it was a learning experience with lots of trial and error.

Extension staff in Boone and Nance Counties organized and coordinated relief efforts for receiving and distribution of over 70 semi-loads of hay, bagged feed, vet supplies, and fencing materials that came from across the U.S.

There were 50+ loads of hay,

12+ loads of feed, vet and miscellaneous supplies,

and 9 loads of fencing supplies (wooden posts, steel posts, electric posts, barb wire).

In addition, over $37,000 was donated for local relief and used to purchase feed and fencing supplies for area producers in need.

To coordinate the dispersal of these supplies, the University of Nebraska Extension Staff went above and beyond the call of duty to serve farmers, working weeknights and weekends.

Those who weren’t so far away offered their own two hands. Pictured left is Jon Epley, a veteran and retired local co-op manager, using the box scraper to remove sand from one of our fields. Another one of those was my cousin Mitchell.

Mitchell Volk is a Lincoln, Nebraska native. After graduating with a Masters of Fine Art from the University of Iowa in May 2019, he started working as the Visual Arts Leader for Veritas Church in Iowa City.

During the summer, Mitchell came with his dad to remove sticks, debris and sand from the fields. Mitchell sent my parents the following message after departing from 58 county territory:

“I wrote this today after reflecting on my short weekend with you two. I love you two very much and I am encouraged by your attitude, faith, honesty and dedication. Thank you for all that you do. I'm praying God provides exactly what you need and that you continue to find your true satisfaction in Him alone."

The following images sandwiched between Mitchell's words are a series of before and after shots. His poem reads...

Survivor’s guilt isn’t the right term

I didn’t survive, just watched from afar

Watched the water flow and the tears swell

Man versus nature

We always lose

But we’ve known that since chapter three

We fought Nature with human nature

It proved we’re small and weak

A candle in blinding sunlight

Pick-up sticks is a game

But there are no winners here

Cornfields covered in sand and logs

Pick-up sticks

Move the sand or make it into a beach resort

Nebraska isn’t a vacation destination

It’s impractical

So, pick-up sticks

I take a picture of the tractor I will use to haul sticks

“My culture is not a costume” comes to mind

I’m an imposter

I get to go home, to leave this devastation behind

This is not my livelihood

My life isn’t on the line

I am overwhelmed, worried for the Farmer

But the Farmer feels no such thing. They stand in the middle of the roaring river And do not flinch. They’ve seen worse And know of better times. Every day prior to this was an uphill battle.

What makes today any different?

Toil is not a new concept

Farmer’s invented the term

It’s very close in spelling to soil

Makes sense

Their hands are calloused but not their hearts

Dawn brings a new day

New opportunities, new steps forward

The land is tough

The Farmer is tougher

And sweeter

Laughter fills their home as the rain continues to pour

As more of their land is washed away

Laughter

But not cynical laughter

The “I have known loss and joy”

The “I know what it means to live at the mercy of life itself”

The “There is more to life than this” type of laughter

True joy

It knows heartbreak and devastation

It’s a seed in the ground that may never germinate

But it always comes back to laughter

The Farmer knows what’s important. We should all be farmers. at least characteristically."

The poem reads, "Man versus nature... We always lose." The aftermath made it appear so for some time.

But we did not lose.

The debris has been removed.

The roads have been rebuilt.

The fields have been repaired.

But by no means was it easy to do and scars still remain.

(pictured: cuts still split through fields)

Typically, the summer months would be spent irrigating. However, with the summer’s sufficient rain, all physical and mental effort was put toward the recovery effort. The biggest challenge was the amount of debris and sand deposits. Had it been a normal summer, “I don’t know how we would have gotten it done,” my dad says.

Sand was dozed. Box scrapers went to work to drag the sand away.

Then deep chiseling and tillage followed to mix the sand and the base soil. Manure was spread in an effort to increase organic matter.

Finally, cover crops (forage sorghum, rye, turnips, millet) were seeded for soil regeneration and livestock grazing. This falls into five main principles for soil health: no tillage, living root in the soil at all times, cover crops, diverse crop rotation, incorporating livestock into the system.

The topography isn’t quite level enough on some acres that were previously flood irrigated so investing in pivot irrigation may be a more feasible solution than re-leveling the ground.

An agreement had to be made to rebuild fence according to specifications and maintain it for 10 years to receive cost shares from Farm Service Agency.

The county went to work fixing roads but independent contractors had to be outsourced to get the job of rebuilding done.

The Farm service agency staff, although strained with a much heavier work load, delivered commendable service to farmers. "Because of them we can keep our heads above water and move forward without too much financial strain," my dad says.

The Emergency Conservation Program (ECP) is an annual program for which the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) allots dollars. Because this year’s event was so massive, USDA reset their budget and added 25 percent to the normal 50 percent. This meant farmers could receive up to 75 percent of cost for removal efforts.

When my parents signed up for ECP from Farm Service Agency (FSA), NRCS field staff used satellite imagery to estimate the area effected. Based on the white sand deposits shown on the imagery, they figured we had 400,000 cubic yards of sand to get off the fields. A contractor made estimates about sand and debris removal costs. Initial estimates were $300-400 an acre but the total came close to $600 an acre.

"I am overwhelmed, worried for the Farmer... But the Farmer feels no such thing... They stand in the middle of the roaring river," wrote Mitchell.

...but the farmer is not alone.

(pictured: my feet standing on what is now a sand pile at the edge of a field; taken on September 3, 2019)

This photograph was taken just days after the flood at the irrigation pump site of a field my dad has farmed for the Barr family since the early 1990s.

Harold Barr took his last breath at the age of 95 in the home he was born in. My dad will tell you that Harold was more than the typical landlord. He was a mentor and friend. On a day shortly after the flood, light split through the clouds and the sun shone down on Harold Barr's initials engrained in the pump.

Darkness is defined as the absence of light. And where there is family there is always light. If yours is anything like mine, it doesn’t take blood to make family so and it is no fluke.

To the crew that makes up Frenzen Family Farms...

similar to how you picked up sticks and piled sand to build what once was before the flood,

your exemplary work ethic and kind hearts built me.

When I think of home, it is the people.

But if I were to put it on a map, the place I often feel most love and warmth is my grandma’s kitchen. On October 9, 2019 I sat on a barstool with camera in hand as Grandma Judy cooked a meal for the crew harvesting in the field. The following video consists of a series of pictures of Grandma Judy in her element–cooking in the kitchen and hosting our family on the Thanksgiving holiday.

So what is it that ties together my grandma's kitchen and my dad's field?

resilience

...the capacity to recover quickly from difficulties; synonymous with toughness.

I believe resilience has been instilled in my family for generations.

And that's just it–we are resilient because of one another.

I will never have the opportunity to meet every family member pictured above in this life. But I consider myself fortunate that I get to walk on the same land that they did. I imagine my ancestors would be amazed at the rapid speed I found out about the flood. While attending my regular classes at the university, I received images and text updates from my dad within minutes as events happened, as seen below.

Communication has never been so convenient. We have the ability to share news with family as it happens. We have the ability to communicate with friends instantaneously from a state or country away. We have the ability to get to know complete strangers through a device.

Yet, are we familiar enough with our own backyards?

The landscapes we live in are resilient.

They have the capacity to bounce back after trauma.

They desire to be known, appreciated, and loved just like you and me.

If you spend enough time with them, you just might hear them roar.

Created By
Emily Frenzen
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Credits:

Emily Frenzen