It has become imperative to start the days early, like every year during this season. Fattening fruit demands water. Micro-sprinklers hiss and twirl fine sprays that blow away or evaporate during the windy, sunny part of the day. Early mornings (before dawn, even) is the best watering time, when it is still and foggy. The first inkling of light wakes me into a routine of donning warm clothes and a jacket. The dimly lit, peaceful saunter downhill to the orchard unfolds new wonders every day. Turkeys awkwardly hasten away, great strides, giant bodies rocking back and forth. Ravens glance up from their ground-gazing meditations. An alert doe leads her two spotted fawns a little farther away, slowly. A bout of tiny droplet drizzle cools my face. When the chain latching the orchard gate clinks, the sound seems to carry far, silencing the already quiet chatter of birds. I wrest the big valve open and water gushes down the shaking pipe to the smaller laterals. Sprinklers begin bubbling, then spin. I must take a look at each of the sprinklers – 180 each round – to assure each is working, tracing the flexible tubes feeding them to spot any leaks, ears alert to irregular noises that indicate punctures from rodents or errant hoes. All checked and fixed, hands muddied and pants soaked, the morning grows lighter and I climb the hill back home with a satisfied smile knowing that the thirsty trees are happy, too.
The Fog
Each day starts with fog, either obscuring the ridgelines or right down to the ground, soaking. There have been stretches of days with no sun at all but recently the fog has retreated oceanward midday, replaced by sun and episodic breezes. 52F at sunrise and the warmest part of the day gets to 71F; the sun feels warm but the wind makes chill. Really, when the sun comes out the temperature is pure heaven.
The Last Mow
Celebrations and hard work with the drying of grass. Over many years and with lots of effort, we have converted nearly 20 acres to grassland from scrubland or old farm fields. Grassland is better for fire safety and restores wildlife that depend on it. Western bluebirds, harvest mice, voles, grassland butterflies (buckeyes!), and so much more are abundant now as the red-tailed hawk regularly wheels overhead seeking grassland prey. So much grassland demands hours of mowing Right Now. Five foot thick dry grass gets ground into three inches of mulch, reducing flame lengths and the heat of wildfire. Swallows delightfully swarm behind and around the mowing tractor. Brewers blackbirds pounce and dance on insects uncovered in the new cut straw, beaks full of white moth wings. Afterwards, the shortened sward attracts regular attention from bluebirds swooping to catch insect snacks: these birds really require short grass to find their food. Somehow, the native grass rebounds even after this late mow and in a month the tawny, dust churned mulch will start to green. Poppies will emerge to blossom in mid-September through the decomposing thatch.
Big, Fat Rodent Mounds
The mowing was differently dusty this year. What used to be the more or less consistent roar of the flail mower was interrupted by a bogged down engine and the churn of dirt: ground squirrel burrows! Huge swirls of dust erupted behind the mower, sometimes sent aloft by a breeze. Once, rising heat and a breeze created a dirt vortex that spun in place, a brown twisting spellbound ghost.
Those squirrels had been hiding. Now, they are out in the open, flattening themselves as they grub and graze. Their loud whistle-chirps are more common, as waves of the rodents scatter back to their burrows in alarm. Hawk! Human! Run!! Four to six half-size, big-eyed, skinny young squirrels flock not far from their family’s burrow entrances. Some burrows are quickly being excavated, three foot wide, one foot deep fans of bare, dry soil…and rocks! Mower blades will dull faster next summer and the air will get more dusty.
Farming
Crop plants have become adults. Our community celebrated its first red tomato last weekend and the vines are getting fuller with green fruit. Apples have surpassed the silver dollar stage and are coloring up. Pears aren’t far from being ripe. Meyer and real lemons are coming on as are the bacon avocados. It looks likely that we’ll get a summer crop of limes in six weeks. Our first substantial passion fruit crop won’t be ripe until September.
Judy’s first sunflowers are open and she’s been distributing the coveted silky smooth dark green zucchini. Two Dog Farm’s grapes are neatly trellised with bunches of promising fruit. Two Dog (really, truly!) dry farmed winter squash has just fully blanketed the field, giant green leaves, some patches with beautiful silver veins, all dotted with big yellow-orange flowers. The crews have done their major weeding, now we wait for the ripening of fruit and the promised burgeoning harvest.
Planning
Though the season of long days and hard work are made more enjoyable by the beatific clime, we’re taking the unusual turn of long term planning during the height of the work year. Everywhere you look at ‘outdoor work,’ there is an inter-generational transfer crisis. The hard-working trades of forestry, livestock, land management, wildland firefighting, and farming are struggling to attract young talent. We wonder how to continue the tomatoes and row crops of Molino Creek Farm. Who will manage Santa Cruz County’s North Coast agricultural fields in a decade or so? Will we ever again experience the amazingly diverse, delicious organic crops of Route One Farms from the 1990’s? It takes real skill and hard work to keep each crop growing enough to support the workers. And so, we meet in the large, lonely upstairs room in our Barn and ponder…



























