As the sun sets in the West, as night becomes longer than day, as we pick the last fruit from a tree, as an ancient deer breathes its last breath…we have the chance to awaken to the ephemerality of things. So, too, marks the end of a russet mite infestation on the tomatoes, plants throwing up new healthy shoots above withered, diseased branches. Or, a flock of starlings or jays taking flight elsewhere, releasing the apples from their incessant pecking damage. Loss is sometimes welcome. Cycling contrasts between things (newly present or freshly departed), and suffering (realized or relieved), is always at hand here at Molino Creek Farm as everywhere.

Where, Life?

A weed is a plant out of place. A plant has its preferred location, but sometimes we don’t want it in a specific spot. Amaranth and calendula are pernicious weeds in our fields but we celebrate them in moderation: both add to salads, calendula praised for healing salves and pollinator bliss.

Deer and squirrel are lovely, peaceful neighbors but not so welcome when they feast on crops.

The struggle of farmers is to maintain life where we (think we) want it. Shall we load up Noah’s Ark again, kill everything not on it and then release pairs of wildlife in well fenced reserves to save a lot of money and work? Should we use herbicides to overcome our battles with weeds? 

Where does life belong?

Plants out of Place

Spring was the time for weeding. As the days warmed with soil still wet from rains, plants entered the time of Proliferation. Farmers planted and weeded. And weeded. And weeded. Community orchardists worked to keep bare areas around tree trunks – vole protection! Mowers and weedeaters battled plant height. Mediterranean dryness finally slowed that work, and the shorter days of Fall marks its end.

Critters out of Place

Heat waves and 5 months of no rain have dried the last of the ephemeral vegetation on the landscape around us. The leaves of perennial shrubs are curled, resins concentrated, unappetizing to deer. Farmers are watching female deer jump through surprisingly small holes in the fences meant to protect crops. Antlered bucks muscle through gaps or jump over a low spot in the fence. Flashlight-illuminated eyes reveal five deer at midnight feasting on tomatoes. Fence repair, T-Post pounding, banging and clanging echoes mark the struggle against these giant, hungry herbivores. We once weighed the suffering of a fire-compromised fence with the suffering of the price-hike consequences of an insurance claim and now feel the pain of the former. Forgetfulness aids deference.

Heatwaves

The best way to greet dawn these days has been to close the blinds and windows. Nights cool our homes, the momentum of thermal mass our (momentary) salvation. By sunset the indoor temperature approximates that of the outside: 85F (or higher). We recall when there was thick smoke and we couldn’t cool with the night air. 

The sun scalds fruit. Tomatoes turn sickly pale orange-yellow instead of ripening to deep red. And then they melt. Apple and avocado fruit scalds where sun exposed. Shaded apples drop from the trees, unripe, and we wince at the grass-muffled ‘clump’ of fruit striking the ground in the afternoon with such regularity that it sounds like the hoofbeats of deer. On the ‘sunny side,’ citrus perks up, reveling in the heat.

There was no such regular searing heat before 2019, now it comes every year. We cannot create shade fast enough. Perhaps we’ll become a citrus farm. Fists raised to the oiligarchy and their evil greed. May they depart.

Awaiting Ripeness

On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate the ripeness, readiness, or tastiness of this apple? That’s the question of the weekly apple tasting during our Saturday work parties. Given side-by-side slices of the same apple, the spread of responses is surprising. Sometimes there are clusters of agreement signaling harvest time or telling us it is time to wait. The community learns to judge what is right for 50+ varieties of apples, some of which ‘should’ be ‘sharp’ rather than sweet. 

The rare apple variety “Ashmead’s Kernel” was the lesson this year: a range of opinions kept the harvest at bay until all opinions merged on ‘overripe!’ So, tens of pounds go to boxes with the hope that they will get pressed before they rot. Storage in this heat is iffy. We dislike wasting the fruit that took so much labor, so much waiting. People are often surprised about how much food is wasted in the cycle of agricultural production. How much of that is avoidable? How?

Another Time

The first rays of the rising sun in the East alert us to another cycle of the New. Perhaps the Fuji apples are ripe today. Perhaps fox will have stolen a whole tree of fruit. A sniffle becomes the flu. Someone new walks into the orchard to remind us of awe. As things arrive, they bring meaning…consequences…potential. So curious. What’s next?