Molino Creek Farm

Regular Summer

There’s a certain relaxation that sets in when everything is going as ‘normal.’ Late at night, the fog rolls up the valley and we awaken to the silver tongue of fog lapping at the edge of the lowest points of the farm. Down there, redwoods drip and it smells piney and dank. The fog pulses in further and then back out in a morning battle against the heat, but always the fog lowers just below our elevation; but, we can feel the coolness even as the sun’s warmth prickles our skin and begs for long sleeves. At ten o’clock, a slight breeze picks up onshore with the cool ocean air. The days are sunny and in the 70s. It is dry and dust wells up when we walk, work, or drive, big or small clouds blowing predictably towards the southeast. Everything has become dusty. For many weeks, it has been a regular summer.

It has been a regular summer except very recently when high clouds streamed in from the (!) East. Other places in California have been experiencing Zeus’ playfulness, but we haven’t heard a single thunder clap, though a few large raindrops at one point, briefly. Those clouds make for spectacular sunsets.

Molino Creek Farm’s dry farmed tomatoes are getting ready!

The Ripening

Apples, tomatoes, winter squash, peppers, zucchini, pears, prune plums, hazelnuts…they are all ripening. As with the cherries recently, we must pace ourselves with the pear intake.

Looking down the long rows of lush, half-grown tomato ‘vines,’ we see the first ripening tomatoes blowing orange-red among the green boughs. One day soon, there will be so many ripe tomatoes that it will be difficult to keep up with the harvest. For now, we bide our time for the first batch of vine ripened, dry farmed tomatoes, a point where the farmers are as happy as the consumers. “Oh Boy!” people exclaim when they first see our tomatoes at the market. Sometimes, we have to limit the pounds purchased so that more of our loyal customers are pleased. It won’t be long now.

Gravenstein then Gala

We have only one large and one small Gravenstein apple tree, the first apples to get ripe each year. Sylvie reports ‘not quite ripe’ this morning, so we will wait another week to try again.

Next up, Gala apples. They aren’t half the size that they should be, but are the quickest growing apples on the block. They are catching up and will be ready to harvest the second half of September. We’ve had another round of thinning the fruit on those trees, thinning from the highest points of ladders. Propping, too!

Maw or Caw, who can tell? (Still Life with a Bird and Tree)

Wild Things

When the days are warm enough and the nights not too cool, we can listen for the night noises. There’s the rough repeated bark-yowl of a fox. There’s the odd sweet whistling call of a great horned owl along with the more normal hoots. There are also the calls of thousands of crickets. The black cricket rough sawing has been going for a while and was recently joined by the less raspy song of brown crickets; both are easy to spot at night along the farm’s many roads at night. The high twirring of the green tree cricket has joined the chorus only this past week; that’s the one you can tell the temperature from if you count the chirps right.

A walking around the farm reveals other wild visitors. Big piles of coyote poo is the most frequent scat. They rarely sing, but they sometimes do. Turkey tracks and feathers are another common sight, though the birds themselves aren’t frequently evident. Reports of a herd of deer seen frequently – no bucks but a few does and young.

And then there are the quail! Bumper crop of quail with many more being born. Clouds of quail, a profusion of quail, lots and lots of quail. I was wondering where the Cooper’s hawk was when it appeared for the first time in months this morning. Then again, the red-tailed hawks have moved on with their young one, a great relief to the wealth of bunnies also being born.

The large gopher snakes are a frequent sight. Mark Jones reports a 5 foot long fatty near the Hayfield gate. There’s one that lost the tip of its tail near the Yard water tanks. There are eerily large tracks in the dusty roadbeds. The temperature has been such that large snakes have to sun themselves to keep warm enough to hunt in the shade. I picked one up to move it off the road, and it was shivering.

Small family groups of band-tailed pigeons are feasting on elderberries, which have been ripening while still in blossom. Those large pigeons are clumsy out at the branch tips where the elderberries reside…clumsy and nervous. Those are generally pretty nervous birds, which makes sense since they narrowly escaped extinction due to overhunting not that many generations ago.

Maw and Caw are around, but not so sure about their kids, who may have flown the coop. These parents may have the literal empty nest syndrome. We don’t hear the screaming adolescents. Mostly, Maw and Caw are in proximity, poking at the ground and occasionally finding something- what? They might be eating mice…maybe Jerusalem crickets?

Our native elderberries in a hedgerow. Imagine big pigeons trying to balance and eat them

Fire Preparations

As we hear news of fires starting up around the state, we redouble our efforts for fuel management. CAL FIRE has been sending up an engine from Swanton to inspect how we are doing, encouraging us and guiding us in little ways to do a better job. Many thanks to their Captains for inspiring us to do better! They say we’re doing good jobs with the mowing, and mowing we continue to do. There never seems to be enough time for mowing….or weedeating…or hauling cut brush (or burning that cut stuff in the winter). This week, Mark Bartle jumped on his tractor and mowed some of our fallow fields, so suddenly we’re minus more acres of bad fuel: yay!

Perfect Days, Slowing Down

We keep busy, to be sure, but the hecticness of earlier is slowly slipping by. ‘When the crops close in so much that you can’t get a tractor by them to do weeding…’ things slow down. When the grass dries and dies in the field margins, slopes, and areas around our infrastructure…and we do the last mowing of the year….things slow down. When the apples fruits are thinned and the canopy is so shady that the weeds don’t grow (much)…things slow down. Before the harvest…things slow down.

Dry, Flammable, and Gorgeous

For now, on windy hot days, we turn our heads to gaze north, fearing the sight of plumes of smoke. The quality of light has returned to a deep golden-tinged spectrum, which is beautiful AND dangerous. The late summer is fire weather. Nothing so far, and nothing too likely, but that could all change in any given 24 hours. The patient waiting for the fall rains, months away, is what our deep subconscious is doing – for a return to safety from wildfire.

Meanwhile, the skies are clear and blue, the breeze gentle, the days warm and the nights cool. Open the windows in the evening to cool the house down, and the next day is like air conditioning…until the early evening when it is hotter in than out. Repeat this exercise each evening or cook in your own house if you don’t pay attention.

Birds sing and feed their young, bunnies procreate – little ones and big ones scampering about, the fog parades down coast and downslope. There is a record number of bunnies along the road suddenly. Everything shimmers with life.

Satsuma plum – starting to ripen….loaded (needs propping!)

Early Fruit

The earliest of fruit is starting to happen. Two Dog farmers report a dozen ripe tomatoes in their field: the earliest of Early Girls. The birds are eating, or have already eaten, whole trees of plums. Soon, we may overwhelm the birds with plums and get a few ourselves…or maybe we should net them! The cherries are almost all gone, a few left for the orchard tenders if they haven’t had enough already.

In the Hedgerow, resprouted from the Fire, the many native elderberries…donated by George Work years ago…are both flowering and fruiting. Elderberry flowers are the most beautiful cream color, the dark blue berries blushed pectin white.

Tree Swallows

During the glorious bright, golden evening light and my walk-around the farm, I glanced at the big rounded canopy of the walnut tree next to our solar panel-driven well and saw something marvelous: a cloud of tree swallows foraging on something. Round and round they darted, encircling the entire edge of the walnut canopy. High squeaking, they chattered a conversational song of play or feasting or both. Some arched a little higher and then wheeled rapidly down, picking at the surface of the leaves, sucking up unseen insects. There were easily 50, perhaps many more. I stood for 15 minutes, but wasn’t there at the beginning- how long had it been going on? The flock soon moved off to some other place, but not before several individuals soared so close to me that I could see their tiny cheerful eyes glistening. They seemed to smile back at me. I suspect that they were after honeydew eating yellow jacket vespid wasps, which must have lost legions of their kin during that brief swallow feast.

The SMELL

This time of year, each year, the night air is heavy with scent. The winds calm and moisture, eased by the cooling night air, forms a shallow layer over the entire farm. Flashlight beams aimed upward reveal the 10’-20’ depth of scant haze. Throughout that dark and steamy air, a distinct scent wafts from the surrounding forests. Tanoak! Big, fat tassels of male flowers poke up from tanoak canopies giving the trees an almost silvery appearance. The tassels are grouped in many-fingered clusters at the branch ends. This is where the smell is coming from. Seminal smell. Almost too much! People feel obliged to ask, “How long will it last?” Who knows. Too long. But, it is a small price to pay for the acorns that will be produced: this promises a carpet of giant tasty nuts later this year. The smell is gone by morning, but you can get up early, close the windows, and seal the smell in your house if you really want to.

WE DON’T HAVE BUGS!

How often have I heard a Proud Coastal Californian exclaim, ‘We don’t have bugs!’ as they attempt to further glorify their admittedly lovely region. These folks must not go out much, or venture far from their urban abodes. There was a brief respite between the Spring Mosquitoes and what is currently headed to Flymaggedon. Face flies…legions of face flies…’eye, ear, nose and throat specialists’ are starting to appear. The first one explored my face this past week. Soon, they will be unbearable: no more sunbathing! Instead, the conversational wave will be the norm. You stand still, talking, and wave your hand back and forth in front of your face to be able to discuss anything while standing still outdoors.

Dangerous Animals

This past little while- two good reports. One: at the odd hour of 2 a.m., Bodhi got a good look at a small mountain lion by our downhill spring. Two: Sylvie just spotted an 8-buttoned rattler on the dirt road near the pavement – it was 2.5’ long…a fatty for our area! I tried looking for the black widow spiders at the mouths of gopher holes during one nighttime foray, but either I was too early in the night or too early in the summer for the population to have grown. Zero blackwidows! Schwew! There used to be hundreds, just last year, in every gopher hole along every road.

-also simultaneously published on the Molino Creek Farm website- check it out!

Balmy Days, Cool Ocean Breezes

The days have been perfectly warm with a light breeze off the ocean – we have not been smited by the heat so famously noted in inland California and 5. The cool upwelling ocean has been our nearby friend.

Some odd clouds have been streaming overhead, making for glorious sunsets. One sunset this past week was (briefly) completely Pure Lucious Purple.

Cherries Cherries and more Cherries.

In the past two weeks, we’ve harvested 75 pounds off of the 18 trees. There are another 60 pounds at least ripe right now; those we’ll pick for Two Dog Farm to take to the Alemany Farmer’s Market in San Francisco on this Saturday. The heat is making them get ripe in a hurry! Family, friends, and Community Orchardists are thick in cherry fruit, the very best anyone has experienced. Yum.

In the depths of the night, occasionally we get fog. Rarely now, we wake up to a brief patch of fog, but its not too drippy.

Yip Yip Horray!

Also in the deep dark night: coyote chorus. High squeaky notes of coyote song ring out across the farm. At least three animals are celebrating and almost every night, late-late at night.

Giant gopher snakes are out sunning themselves on the road, frequently.

The second, or third, batch of new bunnies has arrived. There are also big batches of new quail everywhere- not still fluffy, but young enough to be Very entertaining to watch in their barely coordinated flights, weaving willy-nilly much to their parents’ chagrin. After such a flush, it must take hours to regather the covey. Another successful reproductive situation: The Deer! A mother deer is trailing a single fawn around the property.

Here’s a confirmation that Maw and Caw have been quite successful again with two adolescent yelling and demanding offspring. They are good parents, watching carefully after the kids.

In a tall tree near the Brush Field, a pair of red tailed hawks have fledged a talkative young one. This is the first pair and the first offspring I’ve seen since my arrival in 2008. We could use more hawk action with the burgeoning bunnies, gophers, and mice.

Hay There

The grass has dried. All of the grass has dried. So, it is time to make the Last Mowing, dust and all. There are three ways to get rid of the hay this late in the season: 1) pile the hay in the field and let it moulder; hope to apply at the onset of rains before it becomes too heavy to move…2) compost it, layered with dirt and weeds, kept moist…3) put it on the dirt roads for dust control. After the CZU fire burned up the freshly applied understory hay, we won’t be fooled again. Wait for more mulch application! Otherwise, we grind up the hay and leave it be in the roadsides and fields where it won’t be harvested. The mice will like it there. I saw a bunny eating such ‘stored’ hay recently.

-this post also shared via Molino Creek Farm’s webpage, see this link.

Fattening Apples, Impending Heat

The tension of summer is upon us. We relish the beautiful days, like today, with an ocean breeze and high temperatures in the upper 70s to low 80s. The nights are cool enough to be our air conditioning. We awake to cool houses that slowly warm as the day progresses until the (welcome) onset of cooler evenings. The crickets are loud, the birds silent in the midday warmth, and cicadas fill the heat of the day with their one note, incessant, high metallic-whining song.

The magnificent pulse of pleasantly warm days and cool nights used to be normal, for decades it was normal. Recently, there is a prickle of worry that the HEAT will arrive: days of above 90s when the night never cool. We’ve had 4 of those in the last 3 years, 1 right before the 2020 fire and one just after. Those are tough. We might get one of those this weekend. The Weather Service can’t say. While they predict 110F inland, ”readings along the coast are a bit more tricky.” Sigh. All we can do is get the irrigated ground as wet as possible to buffer our poor crops against what might be wilting, damaging heat.

Molino Community Orchardists produce this beauty…a gala apple tree perfectly thinned

Pomelogically Speaking

Meanwhile, in the cool shade of apples trees…We gaze across a lush and happy orchard filled with quarter-sized fruit peaking out from beneath the protective cover of deep green leaves. The many hands of orchard collective workers have thinned almost the entire orchard to well-spaced fruit that is gaining girth expeditiously. By taking off most of the fruit and leaving a few, we relieve the mother trees of too much work. You can almost hear them sigh and relax.

The apple trees are growing so well that their bark is splitting, the first furrows appear on our aging tree trunks. So, this is how trees show their wrinkles. We are only a month away from the first apples ripening: The Gravensteins. We will have just two of those types of apple trees bearing this time around, but there are many more small ones getting bigger – 3 more years and the crop will begin to burgeon. After that, the Gala apples will be on hand in 2 months, and that’s the beginning of the big apple party. Apple trees do not like warm roots, but this spring saw the canopies grow so much that there is good shade across most of the orchard floor. The edge trees suffer more, but we’ll dispense thick mulch over their tender roots soon enough.

Plum Nothing!

Soon, there will be plums but none right now. The challenge with plums is netting them. We need to create an easy-to-deploy single tree netting system, so we can get plums this year. There is a promising fruit set.

Maw and Caw Update

Taking my morning stroll this morning, I heard a raven scream from down near the netted cherry grove. ‘Oh NO!’ I thought…’What’s wrong?!’ Perched on the cherry net structure were 4 ravens, not just our farm pair, Maw and Caw. Did they have twins this year? Was that single scream an obnoxious raven yell, so typical of their adolescent young? More study is needed.

Other Wildlife Observations

Foxes and coyotes calling, fledged barn swallows, frequent Lazuli song. It sounds like someone is strangling a cat, but its just a gray fox calling. It was very startling, though. It’s the first sign I’ve had in a long time that the foxes are still around. Uh-oh for the fruit, though.

Sylvie woke one night to the pitched song of coyotes.

One of the 4 fledged barn swallows from my porch hung upside down like a bat for an hour yesterday. What’s up with that. I worried that it was sick, but then saw it idly preening itself while hanging upside down. Odd bird! It seems to the smallest and is quite a rebel. The other three fly one way, it tilts its head at them going that way, chips, and flies a different way.

The laughing calls of lazuli bunting are very common on the farm. They well compliment the high giggling peeps of the many lesser goldfinches that are feasting on Madia seed happily.

Farming

Dusty clouds billow in the wake of mowing tractors, weed-tilling tractors. Bent forms slowly hoe their way down the rows in the morning heat. Shimmering waves of warmth bend the images of quickly growing crops, not yet covering the ground, but soon! This is the time of cash outlay, the gamble that the harvest will bring the returns to pay back all the labor going into the crops right now. Killing gophers, weeding, watering…repeating…over and over, the harvest weeks away.

Black walnut – we have a lot of them on the farm!

Walnuts

We have a lot of black walnuts growing on our farm, never harvested. Still, they are beautiful trees!

-this post also placed at the Molino Creek Farm web space.

Bluebird Chicks

Baby bird begging is almost as beguiling as human baby crying. Heads turn to see what the fuss is about. Perched near the nest, the mother holds her wings out just a bit, anxiously glancing around. I haven’t seen any fledglings, but the earliest squeakers must be close to getting out of their nests. At least two bluebird nest boxes have clutches going. There are other species of baby bird noises from nearby shrubs, from holes in cabin walls, from tree hole cavities, from anywhere there might be enough cover. The lush productive spring promises well-fed big baby birds. Next door, the jays have already been at their nasty deeds, tearing apart barn swallow nests to eat eggs for breakfast.

Orange crowned warblers! I’ve been using the Merlin bird call recognition software on my iPhone, and it has been teaching me better bird identification. I didn’t know warbler calls before using this tool, but now I can recognize orange crowned warblers, which are suddenly (for me) everywhere I hike through the forest. Some focused time recently netted several warblers, all nearby: Wilsons, orange-crowned, black throated gray, MacGilvery’s, and yellow. Most of these were close by, from the sound of them, but nearly invisible. They seemed to like darting around just under the canopy of the acres and acres of 4 foot tall, post fire California lilac. Imagine, a sea of glossy green-leaved shrubs with flashes of yellow birds and a constant sweet warbler song.

Navel orange flowers produce an amazing scent on Molino Creek Farm’s fabulous Citrus Hill

Sweetness in Scent

Song can be sweet, but so can scent. Molino Creek Farm’s citrus orchard has never had so many blossoms. It is peak citrus blossom time, especially with oranges and their particularly alluring scent. It is dizzying many yards downwind. Closer up, the pure white of their simple flowers is beautiful to look at. This flowering is brief. Soon there will be tiny dark green fruit that will get larger by the week and then slowly turn colorful. The harvest is mostly 9 months away, but still we glean the last few limes, lemons, and tangerines. As the flowers fade and the fruit forms, a new flush of leaves will create thick, sheltering canopies of glossy dark green. We put yoghurt containers of feather meal into the drip lines of the citrus orchard more than a month ago, and it seems to be helping with the generous leafing.

Farm Work

Molino Creek Farm and Two Dog have been planting many plants, and now attention turns to hoes. The last rains spur more weed germination in the dry farmed fields. In the irrigated rows, a massive weed flush threatens to overwhelm the crops. The hoeing race is on!

Molino Creek Farm’s famous dry farmed tomatoes are starting a new season in freshly tilled soil

We are irrigating again: a routine that will last until November. Up early to check the water tank level, turn on irrigation valves, hike around the orchard to see if any irrigation is amiss, fix a leak or two and go home. Lunch time (or later!)- repeat in reverse: turn off the irrigation valves, log the water use, check the storage tanks, and head home again. Big cyclical walks around the farm keep creating material for this writing project.

Half the first round of hay raking is done. Mulch for the orchard gets clipped by a sickle bar mower, then sundried (hah!), then raked, then pitchforked onto the mulch cart, hauled to The Trees, and spread around the rootzone thicker than anyone wants to place it. Really? This thick?! This is the third spring since the fire burned up all the mulch. This will be the last year that weeds come up so thick around the trees. The mulch is thick enough now to subdue seedling weeds. There are also mulch benefits of water retention, slow-release fertilizer, root cooling insulation, and wildlife (vole, lizard, snake) habitat. Long live mulch! Mulch is the key to life!! Under the mulch, worms wiggle and scoot, creating a carpet of 2” deep “castings.”

On our carefully stewarded hillsides, a menagerie of native grasses and wildflowers: Elymus glaucus (blue wild rye), lupines and other things…

-this post also placed at Molino Creek Farm’s website.

Endless Foggy Days

Day after day the fog variously seeps up the canyons, pours across the ridges, or just hangs across everything, dripping and drizzling. Droplets cover every plant, glistening. It is cool and damp, but the soil is still drying. The dust is subdued but the plants grow thirsty.

Blossoming Hillsides

This weather has prolonged the spring bloom which is entering the moment of giant patches of colorful shrubs. Lavender bush lupines and yellow-orange monkey flowers are being joined by bright yellow lizard tail, each of these gentle shrubs has its own color place on the hillsides but intermingle in the interstices in a mélange of crazy color patterns. More subtle flower patches also claim their spaces – Phacelia, bee plant, and cudweeds are also in full bloom. It is a good time to go for a walk where the coastal scrub is near, especially the post-fire coastal scrub. The fire set us up for a very colorful spring.

Snakes and Such

The extended cool spring seems to have concentrated the snakes into piles to keep warm. Last Sunday, Pete Trenham visited the farm and helped catalog 19 snakes in one walk about, including four rubber boas under one piece of roofing tin: a grip of snakes! We found gopher snakes of all sizes, a few ring neck snakes, yellow bellied racers, and garter snakes along with southern and San Francisco alligator lizards and blue bellied lizards. Down in the creek, we found California newts guarding their egg masses as a California giant salamander swam about. Molino Creek was much rearranged after the dynamic winter- now there are pools and riffles along with many beds of fresh piled rock.

Pete Trenham holding a grip of snakes: northern rubber boa to be exact

Planting Time

Farmers are planting seedlings. Baby onions are especially numerous in long rows. Adolescent sunflowers are getting bigger. Tomato plants are settling in nicely. The cool overcast weather makes for transition ease as plants move from the protection in the greenhouse out into the open air.

Perennial Fruit

The orchards are lush and gorgeous. Apple trees have dark green leaves, a foot of new shoot growth, and oodles of tiny furry new fruit. Cherry trees are laden with clusters of fattening light green shiny fruit nested in curtains of deep dark green foliage. Avocado trees are perky explosions of new reddish leaves reaching for the sky with bolting new growth. Slower, the citrus trees are beginning to flush with shiny new baby leaves while buds break with stark white flowers and famously sweet scent. The grape vines have thousands of long clusters of buds nestled in bright delicate spring green leaves

More Scents and Sounds

The gentle breeze brings a faint smell of fire and a distant hum is the source: air curtain burners are disposing of hazard trees on the nearby land. That distant hum is joined by hours of closer noise: mowers! This spring in particular has called the mowers to work. Mow the 5’ grass to 2” and the next week it will be back quickly with 6” a week growth. The sweet smell of fresh cut grass permeates the air when the wind dies down. The Merlin bird app identifies the dominant dusk chorus: purple finch, song sparrow, and barn swallow fill the ears with song as the day grows dark and evening sets in.

A Preponderance of Fog

The memory of sunny spring days slipped behind a fog bank. The muffled quietness is emphasized by mysterious pattering drips echoing from the hidden depths of the forest. A single flute-like song from a hermit thrush serenades the slowly darkening evening as it becomes night. The winds have died. All is damp and chill.

Ground Birds

Somehow, the quail predicted this cold spell. Everyone has been asking where the puff ball baby quail are – this is the normal season, and they are late. The fluffy turkey babies are out, though. Passing carefully in our cars, they peep loudly after diving into the ditch, scared that momma will lose them. Mother turkey herds the children a bit, but not too frantically, not like the more fretful quail. The quail are in pairs and in a few small groups, the hens must be full of eggs awaiting the return of warmth. Wet grass is hypothermic to baby birds.

Box Birds

Bluebird parents dip and dive, scooping up caterpillars and bugs. Off they hurry to the nest box where squeaking kids beg noisily for food. Perched at the nest box opening, mother bluebird eyes the gaping mouths of her chicks, picks the lucky one who gets fed, and off she goes to find the next catch. Father bluebird returns with food, same story. They come and go all day, feeding the quickly-growing hungry young ones. In between parental feeding, the babies go quiet. A scrub jay perches on the nest box. Both parents alight nearby. It is a silent standoff for a few minutes until I scare the jay away. Nasty nest predators! Four of the five bluebird boxes have nests this year. Electric blue male bluebirds are quite the color show. We look forward to a menagerie of young in the not-too-distant future.

Lush

The land is lush. Wild oats are 5 feet tall, wild radish bushes 4 feet around, and wild cucumber vines hang heavily on our 7’ fences. A hike through the forest, even on trails has become a swimming breaststroke to part the tall, fast-growing post fire blueblossom bushes. The ground surface is buried under several layers of canopies, hidden holes hold worry for footfall ankle twisting. The native iris are already fading. Nuts hang from hazelnut bush branch tips. The live oaks on the edge of the meadows are dense with new growth and thick with leaves.

Tiny Fuji apples, just forming. Photo by Sylvie Childress, Molino Community Orchard Photojournalist

Orchard Fruiting

Apple flower petals have long since fallen and small fruit have formed. It is time to thin the fruit, to keep the branches from being too heavy, to make for bigger fruit, and to keep the trees from bearing only in alternate years. The first mow is behind us, but the regrowth is thick already wanting the next mow soon. Wide oat leaves and thinner leaved tufts of dark green weedy rye grass poke up from a thick mat of mowed material. A rich moldy smell permeates the air. Nearby, bell beans and vetch that we missed mowing the first round are vibrantly blooming and growing high. Between cover crop and understory weeds, patches of native strawberry are in fruit: the apple orchard’s first harvest! With the late rain, the strawberries are the biggest we’ve ever seen and oh so sweet!

Sylvie Childress, Photographer and Hand Model. Wild strawberries in the Community Orchard understory

Farm Work

Farmers are planting, and there are neat rows of seedlings nestling into freshly tilled fields. Onions and sunflowers as well as rows and rows of tomatoes are pushing roots into the soft brown soil.

Also, the mowers are mowing. As is too often the case, one of our BCS tractors went down and is off to repair just when we needed it most. Bob moved the sickle bar mower to the other BCS and off we went once again. Sheaths of grass are felled in neat rows, drying. The timing…as the thistles begin to flower and before the radish seeds get ripe. Earlier, regular we swiped the hay field with the mower to discourage nesting birds- those paths also add heterogeneity for swallow feeding, coyote loping, and skunk snuffling.

-this also posted at Molino Creek Farm’s webpage.

Weasel Land

The weather has fretted with fog and drizzle then heat and back again, the flux of summer, accentuated over short periods of time. It has been long enough since the last rain that the soil is drying for the second time this spring, and it is time to water once (again).

One of the many lush hillsides, well stewarded, at Molino Creek Farm

Fruitiness

We picked the very last of this season’s navel oranges, but our one Valencia tree might still have a few ripen and sweeten. Two young mandarins are producing a few sweet fruit each week. There were enough Persian limes to satisfy some of the orchardists, but those are almost gone. Such wraps up the fruiting season, and a bit of a dearth awaits us to be broken in July when the first cherries ripen. If we can get the gumption to net the trees, we will have those delicious fruit.

Rodent Explosions Past

Last year, everyone was talking about the plague of rodents. There were never so many gophers and mice as then; it seemed like not a foot of ground was spared the gopher till. Many winter squash were chewed, unsaleable. A bunch of our old hazelnut bushes fell over, roots gnawed off near the soil surface. A long, cold rainy winter no doubt took its toll on rodent lives. The voles began their rebound, zipping about and ousting gophers to their demise. Now, new numbers of fanged rodent patrols are on the prowl.

Weasel Friends

Either the long-tailed weasel population has skyrocketed or a handful of weasels are covering some ground. We are all seeing weasels. One weasel was trying to get in the house, poking its snakey body into every nook and crevice, even bobbing back and forth on its hind legs, looking up the walls for a place of better purchase. These weasels have dark red-brown hair and a big white heart spot on their foreheads. They are rumored to ‘run’ down gopher holes. May they control the rodent population!

The Buck Didn’t Stop There

A large buck, its velvet-covered antlers budding up to their first fork, ran hastily across the upper farm this past week. Otherwise, I haven’t been hearing much about deer.

Haying Time

The grass is 5’ tall, on average, in our hayfields. Mostly, it is European oat grass of the “bearded” variety (Avena barbata), but there are also sizeable stands of native brome grass as well as wild radish. When we can, we get to the barn and start up the clickity-clack Italian BCS walk-behind tractor with the sickle bar mower. Aim it at a long row of tall grass and keep it pointed in the right direction. It snicks off the sward at 2” tall, laying down neat hanks of hay that fall to either side. After a few passes, there are beautiful rows of neatly cut grass to cure in the sun before being pitchforked into the mulch cart for placement around the fruit trees. We cut about as much ground as the trees take up- just over an acre! At last calculation, we hoist and spread about 8 dried tons. To do this right, we’ll need to do that pitching before July 1, the magic date that allows the hay to start decomposing and moistening again in the irrigation so that it is less likely to burn very hot with the late summer fires.

Iris fernaldii, one of the panoply of odd colors on Ben Lomond Mountain

Peak Iris

From Santa Cruz to Santa Rosa, it is Peak Time for the Native Iris Bloom. Maybe the wet winter spurred such an epic show. The variation in color and petal shape in the plants near Bonny Doon is astonishing. Around 900’ there are patches of Iris douglasiana, but all are a creamy yellow. Just up elevation, they mix in a narrow band with Iris fernaldii, also a creamy yellow. The douglas types drop out at 1100’ elevation and then there are many more fernald’s. At 1700’ elevation, something magical happens. That blue that the douglas iris was supposed to have now seems transferred to the fernald’s, but there’s more. There are rosy flowers and sky blue, pure white and more deep yellow- no two fernald’s iris seem the same- it is a mystical array of a profusion of color.

the most blue that I. fernaldii gets as far as I can tell

More Color

The colors of iris isn’t all that is happening. The bush lupines and sticky monkeyflower are showing abounding colors. There is so much spring that it can’t be contained. Flowers are gushing brilliant color everywhere. It is time to get out and about!

The Longest Winter

Through late last week and into this one, waves of unseasonal rain kept sweeping across the sky: shower after shower, sheets of drizzle, or a splattering of only a few big raindrops. It was mostly cold rain, and any remaining heating firewood is gone – the longest, coldest, rainiest winter in memory. Wearing sweaters and hats inside, we wonder when the transition to summer will come. Perfectly reasonable people are now complaining about rain, even arguing with an emphatic, ‘enough!’ when reminded about the contrasting potential for heat, dryness, and fire. Some of us will never complain about rain again, but perhaps that’s just the indelible memory of dangerously close-at-hand wildfire.

The Scents and Sound of Weighty Fog

Is that fog now? The sky is still capped but ragged bright blue holes appear in the clouds by midday. The sounds of gusty winds mix with the echoing roar of big waves. The air smells sweet from vegetal spring mixed with salty ocean spray and dusty pollen.

At the end of the rainy period, before the winds, there was a still morning and both the canyons and ridges were draped in clouds. Dampness coated every surface, leaves glistening with droplets. I could hear the nearby waterfall song and a bit of the creek below. It was so peaceful. Then, <<CRACK, CRASH!!>> another big tree fell down somewhere near our boundary in the Molino Creek canyon.

Colors Splashing

Besides the spectacularly blossoming apple orchard, there are dots and pools of color popping out from the mostly grass-green landscape. There are striking large powdery blue patches of wild California lilac, both large shrubs that escaped the 2020 fire and a sea of smaller ones that emerged after that fire. Whorls of sky lupine flowers brighten shallow soiled nobs and ridges, aided by our firewise mowing. On the rare occasion that sunrays warmed their petals, California poppies open with their flame-orange shiny glow. It takes a curious eye and intrepid soggy walking to spot some flower colors: buried in the thick grass are hiding patches of blue-eyed grass, a miniature deep-blue-blossomed iris relative.

Hello Yarrow!

Standing up high among the tall grass, bright white patches of yarrow just started flowering. Like so much of the farm’s color, this one is a result of intention. In 2008, there was no native yarrow on the farm. But, there were a few patches of yarrow poking through the roadside shrubs nearby. In the dusty summer heat, we paced those roadsides, shaking yarrow seedheads into paper bags. Then, as winter rains approached, we shook the seed from those bags in the areas we were mowing for fire safety. Now, there is yarrow proliferating and butterflies alighting on their flat-topped pollen-rich platforms of white flowers.

Random Acupuncture

Everyone who is anyone is controlling thistles. On hikes and impromptu field meeting strolls, we pause to pound our heels into the ground, trying to uproot invasive thistles. When we stroll through anywhere that hasn’t been mowed within a week, we get poked by needle-sharp thistle spines. Italian thistle is the main culprit, but there are also pokey giant lush leaves of milk thistle with which to contend (in the moister spots). If we wanted to wait a bit to mow, there can be no more waiting – there is an urgency about the timing. Seeds will soon be forming then taking flight on thistle-down gossamer parachutes, creating next year’s problems.

Younglings

Baby turkeys, baby bunnies. The thick tall grass nearly hides the adults and completely veils their newborn young. Turkey young, too small to fly, struggle through dense forests of oat grass. They don’t have to venture far with tasty grass seeds presenting so thickly. They have already learned mother’s beak precision to pick individual seeds from grass inflorescences. At the boundary of shrubs and grass, tiny newborn rabbits are also gazing at their parents for lessons, from when to scurry from danger to what to eat and where. It is fattening time for coyote, fox, and bobcat.

Farming

The unexpected late soak changed the farming routine. We stopped our panicking irrigation setup, grabbed hoes and went to work on the easily removed weeds. The big field hoe pries giant radish roots from the wet soil. Glove protected hands yank clusters of grasses that grow too close to tree trunks for the hoe. Either way, hoe or glove, the spring has presented the opportunity for building forearm muscles and body core strengthening.

A new generator arrived and will provide backup power for our normally solar-powered well. The well has been mostly idle for months because of the rain, but soon will be running every daylight hour to keep up with irrigation needs. Should smoke shroud the sun with the onset of wildfire, we’ll need the generator to keep our fire fighting water replenished.

The sounds of powerful diesel engine tractor tilling, weedeater droning, and the lower growl of mowers fill the air most days. The early mornings and the longer evenings provide respites from farm noise. Then, the air is filled with spring bird song.

Spring Heat then Rain Returning

The warm spring sun began feeling prickly to my skin, and so it was sunscreen and sunhats to go outside. It had been a long time: a long cold, rainy winter. Suddenly, spring pollen dusted everything, everyone sneezing across the farm and into town, sneezes in parking lots, bike paths and in lines at the store. ACHOO!

Spring warmth triggered grass to bolting, really toweringly bolting grass flower heads arching and poking up high, waving pollen from dancing wands ladening the ever present breeze.

A Sudden Dryness

It seemed like the rain was over, as it normally would have been, but we were in for a surprise. Us orchardists hustled to get the irrigation set up, discovering mouse-chew leaks to repair, stuck valves, broken sprinklers – the perennial time-consuming setup always seems to come too late. The ground was DRY…very dry! Cover crop was wilting, bent over in the springtime heat. Digging weeds out from under orchard trees became a hassle, shovels and hoes striking hard ground, ringing metal sounds. It was dry not only on the surface but a foot down into the soil. Last Saturday, I asked my fellow weeder, “anyone discovering any soil moisture?” The answer was a disbelieving ‘No!’ Someone said, ‘It calls for rain.’ Yeah, right. It seemed somehow impossible.

Wind to Rain

The wind picked up strongly that evening and the next day it was blowing trees and branches down, hard gusts joining a steady stiff wind from the northwest. A little drizzle followed. Then there was a shower with quite big drops. A few hours later, another shower, that one longer, also with big raindrops. And then it poured on and off for many hours late through the night. Afterwards, still the soil is only wet about six inches down, but its moist down a foot. That much water will get used up in a few days when the sun shines again. And, it is enough to spur the grass growth (and pollen). What a surprise! At least it will be easier to weed for a few days.

The Resulting Flowers

The flowers are out. Poppies and lupines in peak flower. Cassandra reports binocular-spying a strikingly bright patch of solid lush orange California poppies high on the steep slope across Molino Creek canyon. The coast live oaks, tassels fading, are dense with shiny new leaves, a rich array of greens, each tree its own unique shade. On oak twigs, the tiniest of acorn babies have been born. Forest edge madrone trees display giant pom-poms of white flowers, a celebration of the moist winter. Big yellow blankets of post-fire germinated French broom sweeten the breeze but make my muscles tense with the stress of the seemingly hopeless weed invasion on our farm’s otherwise beautifully diverse hillsides. Redwood sorrel carpets the forest understory with strikingly pink blossoms. The wild iris has begun its colorful parade, trailside through the woodlands.

Two Lupines: Lupinus nanus (sky lupine) and Lupinus bicolor (miniature lupine) side by side

And Bryophytes

The return of rain also reawakens mosses and lichens. The black walnuts and oaks host a wealth of moss, growing thicker on the older branches and on the shady side of trunks. Summer comes and their thick green piles shrink and fade. Just as quickly, with dense fog (or this rain), they brighten and grow plush once again.

A Diversity of Ephiphyes…Rain Soaked and Glorious. On one of the Farm’s black walnut trees

A Deer

An adolescent buck with the faintest of felty nubbins jutting from its forehead warily considered me during a recent walk. At first, its giant pointy ears tilted towards me like satellite dishes honing in on my approach. Each time I get close to deer, I talk to them, gently letting them know that I am no threat. Generally, this slows their retreat, but this one was suspicious. It took off, energetically bounding with all four feet high in the air between pounces. Reaching a good distance, its ears were once again on alert, pointed at me as I tried urge it, ‘don’t worry.’ I looked down and up again. He was gone. Why so concerned, deer? This one was new to the neighborhood, maybe just passing through. People still hunt deer in these hills, so wariness is warrented.

Lapins Cherry Fruit – seems to be setting thickly, but we have to wait to see..they often drop off later

Fruit Forming

Bright white citrus blossoms unfold sweetly while cherry petals drop to reveal shiny fruit. The apple orchard has entered peak bloom. The freshly clipped understory, not long ago was ugly stubble, but now it’s turning green, resprouting through the mown mess. The faint rose smell of apple blossoms is temporarily overpowered by a rain-fetched dank compost smell, hints of the bitterness of rotting chopped up weedy mustards and radishes. At the base of the apple flowers, furry hints of apples to be. Down the hill from the apples, fruit grows fast in our stonefruit grove- mostly various apriums and pluots, a hybrid swarm that also includes the parents, plums and apricots. Those fruits are mostly silver dollar sized, hard as rocks and green. The wild hazelnuts of our hedgerow have set fruit, bracts swelling. Elderberry flower clusters are a curious near-black, their buds forming.

Birds

Barn swallows have formed pairs, their mates arrived sometime in the last couple of weeks. They dive and swoop right past my face, closer than ever, as I mow the orchard. Maybe these are my porch swallows, and they are comfortable with me, and so the proximity. It seems I can feel their wingbeat wind on my cheeks they swoop so close.

The band tailed pigeon flock is back to its more normal farm size: 18 (ish). There were many more last week, but some moved on. As always, they scare easily from the walnut trees where they feast on catkins. Their clapping wings send them quickly skyward where they wheel about in a flock that eventually alights in a tall tree awaiting a safer moment to glide back down to their feast. How many times a day do they make this circuit? Sometimes, we hear them cooing deeply, at times answered by the higher, more sad sounding mourning doves that strut on the ground in pairs across the moist freshly tilled farm soil.

In the understory of the orchards, there are bunches of sharp-billed robins.

Somewhere nearby, there is the call and response sing-song of grosbeaks. In the woods, a flycatcher serenade joins the flute-like Swainson’s thrush song.

There are many other birds making lots of noise. Such is spring on our beautiful, diverse, wildlife friendly organic farm. We are so thankful.

-my weekly blog for Molino Creek Farm simultaneously published here.