Noreen Thomas of Moorhead has a dirty job ahead of her: figuring out how to turn food waste into fertilizer and, ultimately, food again. As one of two 2022-2023 recipients of a grant from the West Central Initiative and Initiators Foundation, she'll receive $60,000 over two years to develop a new resource that will also promote clean waterways and sustainable farming practices. Thomas, in her early 60s, grows wheat, rye, barley, buckwheat, edible soybeans, blue corn, oats, flax and sunflowers in rotation on the 1,200-acre Red River Valley farm she shares with her husband, Lee. The farm is certified organic since 1997 and in Lee's family since 1878. Armed with a B.S. degree in food and nutrition, plus minors in chemistry and microbiology, Thomas is digging deep for a healthier future.
Q: Has food — growing it, its origins, its nutritional impact — been an overarching interest since childhood?
A: I spent my younger years in Montana, then western North Dakota, and I had grandparents with apple and cherry orchards on Flathead Lake, near the Blackfeet Reservation. At a young age, I saw the difference — in teeth and overall health — between people who had access to really good food and those who didn't. I have some Indigenous relatives, and they have a deep honor and appreciation for food. I've always been curious about how people just knew where to gather certain foods.
Q: Among other things, you grow rare, Indigenous seeds. How did that come about?
A: Winona LaDuke got us involved. In the past, we've grown Seneca corn, which traveled from Mexico. We were told it was a spiritual thing, that they were to plant it as far north as they could until it stopped growing. Seneca corn is like rocket fuel — the body absorbs it better than contemporary corn and it has more nutrients. The Ojibwe use this corn in a type of stew or soup, trying to bring back some of their stories and traditional foods. You don't mess with these rare seeds; we take great care because you can't have pollen from other corn drift onto the plants or you can lose them forever. The Native stories that go along with these seeds are fascinating to me.
Q: You've had a super successful project involving pumpkins, right?
A: In 2016, Shannon Thompson, an outreach coordinator with Clay County Solid Waste, and her intern created "Take Jack Back," which resulted in the community saving Halloween jack-o-lanterns for composting at our farm. Since then, we've composted over 150 tons of pumpkins. It's an incredible community effort that we're all quite proud of.
Q: Where did the idea of converting local food waste into fertilizer sprout?
A: We were enamored with what we could do with the pumpkins, and like the little engine that could — oh, my goodness — we thought so much more could be done to reduce food waste. Almost by mistake, I talked to an engineer who operates the biodigester about how to use food waste, how to generate electricity from this. I'm interested in how this might apply to grain crops. There are a lot of wheels on this one, but it will be very exciting if we can make it work for the businesses and farmers.
Q: Why is fertilizer a good target?
A: A lot of fertilizer comes from India and China. With all the supply chain issues, farmers are experiencing sticker shock. The added cost to fertilize 1,000 acres has doubled, to maybe $75,000. Local fertilizer made from food waste that would otherwise end up in the landfill makes a lot of sense. But if it's a liquid fertilizer that has to be stored over the winter, we need storage tanks, and what happens to the fertilizer in the cold? We want to ensure clean waterways, so what does this mean for runoff? Is there a naturally occurring anti-pathogen to prevent fungus in the grain? There are a million questions to be answered, and that's my task: analyze, do hands-on application, repeat.
Q: Your operation is named Doubting Thomas Farms. Do people question you?
A: When our farm went organic, people — including some family members — doubted us and thought we'd never make it. There was incredible pressure on us to not go organic. Yes, people doubted us but later saw the value in what we were doing. We were also among the first to get a high tunnel [hoop house], and when we did, a neighbor asked, "Is this another one of your crazy ideas?" This Initiators Fellowship is quite an honor, but I hear, "What?" And "At your age, you want to start this?" Yeah, women are free; I've raised my three children and am freer than ever. Maybe my crazy ideas are paying off. I always have ideas — and the scary part is, I do them.
Q: You educate kids about farming and sustainability, and other visitors come your way. You once hosted New York chef Dan Barber, a 2006 James Beard Award winner?
A: I honestly didn't know who he was when he came. People love the farm and mention the peace here; it's attracted a lot of interesting people who really like what we're doing. Last summer, Benoit, a chef from France, interned here and, referencing "Back to the Future," he said, "You're my Doc." My hair is crazy, so I can kind of see that. I'm not the norm, but I'm OK with that.
Q: Do you have real hope for a cleaner future?
A: Absolutely, especially when I see the community rally around a cause like our pumpkin project. Change-makers and dreamers are doubted, but the time is now. With the broken supply chains, looking locally makes sense, and there are some really innovative, smart people out there who will step up to the plate. I'm seeing more cover crops in the area than ever before and there's keen interest in composting.
Q: With all these seeds in the ground, how do you maintain your energy and endurance?
A: My secrets are to rest, eat well and find people who encourage you, who can figure out where you're going. Touch the soil often and be in nature; know you are here just for awhile, so don't take things too seriously. Learn how to pivot and be creative. Be the light.
Freelance writer Jane Turpin Moore lives in Northfield. She is a frequent contributor to Inspired.
