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Not Passing Through

A fundamental issue related to the inter-connectedness between humans and between humans and Nature is how we move. How often do we change homes? When we are doing errands or our work, how quickly do we move around the landscape, in cars, bikes, buses, or on foot? When we visit nature, how do we move…and how fast?

Changing Homes

According to surveys, US citizens move from one house to another 18 times. On average, they move every 6-11 years, depending on region and economic status. In other parts of the world, such as China, there are millions of itinerant workers who are on the move all of the time. Refugees from war, climate disasters, cartel/mob threats, etc., are numerous. Is this natural?

Some would suggest humans are naturally nomadic. Long lived civilizations are very rare, and I’d be interested in knowing how long pre-industrial indigenous group are thought to have remained in the same territory.

The Social Meaning of Moving

Neighbors are a very long type of human relationship. Some people don’t know their neighbors. Some even don’t want to. The throng of cities provide anonymity that some crave. Rural areas lay bare the need to interact with neighbors. Some loner rural denizens stand out in their desire for isolation, leaving the rest of the neighborhood wondering and curious. That spectrum means there is a wide variety of meaning when we move away from the social fabric of our neighborhoods. When we move farther still, we leave behind those we chose to interact with, our communities, our friends. How have those moves affected you, your family, your friends?

Lost Communities

I posit that the frequency of people moving is negatively affecting the quality of communities. If people stayed put more, wouldn’t they come to better understand the things that affect their community? Even if they aren’t particularly interested, it seems like people gradually come to understand housing issues, strains on water sources, the health of the public transit systems, who has power and who doesn’t, how weather affects people, social norms, and history. Each of those types of understanding influences our relationships with others in our community and can affect the political parties and politicians we choose. When we move, our votes make less sense, and our communities suffer the consequences.

Moving Around Where We Are

Closer to home, how do we move about in our daily lives? I am amazed at rush hour traffic and suppose that most of those people can’t afford not to be moving so slowly, breathing thick exhaust. For a long time, as a commuter, I tallied the very expensive vehicles on the road at various times of day. Not surprisingly, the rich are better able to avoid rush hour. So, how and when we move around is highly affected by how much money we have. But, everyone moving in cars on the road share the experience of isolation from each other and from the world as a whole. The more time people spend in their cars, the more isolated they are.

Economic conditions notwithstanding, Covid lockdowns changed many people’s movement patterns. People looked at their homes differently. For instance, people started cultivating many more houseplants. As the urban bustle subsided, wildlife started edging further into the built environment. We noticed the world around us a lot more. It was quieter both on the streets and in the air. Air pollution declined. Some of our movement patterns remain curtailed despite city governments’ attempts to get businesses to reverse work-from-home policies.

Moving Around In Nature

A ‘avid’ mountain bike enthusiast once told me that they rode carefully so as to avoid running over newts. For those who read my column regularly, you know I have an affinity with newts. When I walk in the forest, avoiding stepping on newts is something that keeps my attention. It is not easy. Newts blend into the forest floor easily, are varying sizes and move at varying speeds, and are sometimes so numerous that you have to walk ever so gingerly to avoid them. It is even more difficult for a bicyclist to avoid smashing newts, and that example serves for a world of other nature interactions. The faster you move around nature, the less likely it is that you will see the nature around you. Also, bicyclists, by covering more ground than those on foot, also disturb more wildlife than other, slower-moving parks visitors. If we are looking to increase the nature sense of humans, we must work to get mountain bikers off of their bikes, so they move more slowly and experience nature more deeply. The same goes for joggers. Parents who care about helping their children connect with nature have a challenge to show their kids how nature is exciting even if you aren’t on a bike or running through a park.

Infrastructure in Nature

‘Stay on the trails’ is an increasingly common park visitation rule. It wasn’t that way very long ago. Technically, State Parks has to formally designate an area as a natural reserve to legally restrict use to trails. At Cotoni Coast Dairies, the land managers have to go through an arduous rulemaking procedure to restrict future visitors to trails. Staying on trails changes the way you experience nature. Wildlife avoid trails. The vegetation surrounding trails is different. Your chance of encountering other people on the trails changes your experience. And, most trails are designed as straight lines, as if we are all in a hurry to get from one place to the next when we visit nature. Trail builders with parks agencies think that people want ‘loops’ and are averse to ‘out-and-back’ trails. Turn offs from the main trail better end in some giant attraction, like an incredible view. Those straight lines and loops create a certain type of experience for parks visitors. I suggest those designs enforce a more fleeting and more separate interaction with nature. What would it be like if more trails led one way to nothing obviously spectacular? What if parks managers designed in slow, immersive experiences into their ‘infrastructure?’

If people slowed down, looked around, and took more time to experience nature, wouldn’t that connect them more with the natural environment? Wouldn’t that connection make them care more about protecting the environment? Just as people moving less increases the possibility of caring more for their neighbors and human community, people moving more slowly in parks should increase their caring for the non-human world.

-this post originally published by Bruce Bratton in his highly engaging and enlightening weekly blog found at BrattonOnline.com, where you can turn for the most meaningful news for the Monterey Bay area.

Animals of our Hearts

We each come to loving non-human wildlife for our own reasons, and we want to assure that all species are thriving for future generations. Among the many people with whom I interact, their answer to an intriguing question is uncannily and increasingly resolute.

“How many species do you need to maintain the quality of life you desire?”

“All of them” is the answer more and more people are giving me.

How does that work?

Only through the goodness of our hearts will we conserve wildlife. What doors open our hearts enough that we are willing to act to restore wildlife?

Cute, Fuzzy Creatures

As children, we are fascinated and kind towards non-human animals. Often, what we glean from children is that they find wildlife to be ‘cute.’ Whether they are stuffed plush toys or animated cartoons, we indulge our youngest children’s inherent love of wildlife. They have pets, or visit friends’ pets, and develop relationships with non-human species. Children learn to cuddle and stroke pet fur, and the pets purr and roll, and show pleasure, giving love back. Humans and non-humans give and receive love, reducing stress and building trust. We expand the community from our core human families to include non-humans.

As adults, we carry with us that love of cuteness, the desire for connection with non-humans, the tactile pleasure of the furry cuddling interaction. And we develop still other ways to connect with non-human animals.

Non-Human Friends: Our Pets

The friendships we create with non-human species are complex, and we each have our own approach. Many share a basic understanding that has developed with our non-human pet species. There are troves of common wisdom about dog and cat behavior towards, and expectations of, humans, which I will not repeat. I’m sure you have plenty of material to reference, as this is a deeply cultural realm and the subject of many conversations, especially when extended family gathers and ‘pet talk’ is a relatively safe space for discussion.

As those pet conversations get more personal, it becomes clear that many humans rely on non-humans (and vice versa) for friendship. Our pets go with us on adventures and reveal to us much that we may not have otherwise experienced. Our pets recognize our ups and downs and participate actively with all of our emotional territory.

Wild Friends

It’s not only pets: some people recognize friendship with wild creatures. The stand-out crowd are those who feed or provide water for wild birds. This bunch is so numerous as to have a sizeable economy surrounding these connections. People buy and maintain hummingbird feeders, bird baths, bird feeders, suet cages…some even invest in specialized foods such as worms or fruit jellies for their favorite bird species. There is an emerging movement in gardening for wild birds.

Still others connect with the wild furry animals that they frequently encounter in parks or in their yards…squirrels, deer, and foxes are the ones I hear about the most. People put out squirrel food, some even getting to know a squirrel well enough to feed it out of their hands. Some folks get to know a certain local doe and her fawns, watching her through the year as she raises them from spots to adolescents. The doe may very well know about the safety net provided by their proximity to a friendly human’s habitation. She and her fawns will feel comfortable near the humans they recognize. Being very sound-centric, they respond attentively and curiously when we talk to them. The very habitual fox, trotting the same paths at the same times each day, will know just how to avoid human encounters but we catch glances of them when we break our rhythms. They poop on our shoes outside the door as a way of saying hello. For a while, foxes were so regularly seen in Bonny Doon that when their populations dipped a whole community was saddened.

Wildlife Viewers

Many of us are falling in love with more and more species of wildlife. We call ourselves naturalists or wildlife viewers. We study the critters we encounter in order to learn new stories. Domesticated dogs provide a gateway into the natural world…through our regular ‘dog walks’ and through our observation of their sniffing around and explorations. Wild animals do those things, too, in many more ways. They draw us out of our cozy homes to visit them and see what they are up to. Observing their behavior, we learn new things about the natural world. As our curiosity grows, we find ourselves in places we wouldn’t otherwise venture, at times of day we might not otherwise get out. Wildlife viewers must get up very early sometimes. To see a river otter, they go to the riverside; to see whales, they go out in boats; to see pond turtles, they spend time gazing at logs in ponds; to see snowy plovers, they squint into binoculars on a wind-blown beach; to hear owls, they stay up late and scritch gravel to goad them to calling.

Hunters

A significant and important segment of the human population connects with wildlife as part of the hunt. Sometimes, hunting provides important food for subsistence; historically, this was even more so. Other times, hunters enjoy the sport as well as the food. Hunters and people who fish get to know the species they pursue and the habitats those species rely on. And, their love of wildlife for hunting has actualized incredible conservation successes. Ducks Unlimited and Trout Unlimited are two of the many organizations supported by hunters which have helped steward wildlife habitat and recover species.

All of Us

Statistics suggest that the vast majority of humans, even here in the apparently divided USA, strongly support wildlife conservation. When we realize the importance of wildlife to our standard of living, we are compelled to learn more about what wildlife need to survive. When we connect with wildlife, we realize we are part of something greater than ourselves, bigger than our simplified human-oriented world. When we see wildlife make a connection with us, we feel part of the natural world, and our basic selves become more grounded and real. When we work to conserve wildlife, we are at our best…serving the world that serves us. Three ways we can be effective at wildlife conservation:

Vote for candidates that detail their approaches to conservation. Every political candidate has the means to make a bigger difference than any one of us acting alone.
Join a wildlife conservation organization, donate more than membership fees. The Center for Biological Diversity is my choice. The Audubon Society is a good one, too. I’m vetting others…suggest one that you think I should mention!
Tell your friends heart-felt wildlife stories. Help create a culture that connects with wildlife!

-this post originally part of a Bruce Bratton weekly blog at BrattonOnline.com, read it and be enlightened!

-to be further enlightened on this subject, see the recording of my recent presentation about local wildlife by clicking here.

Surrounding Sounds

As the Great Marvel occurs, the sounds so change also. The Great Marvel is the onset of winter rains. As citizens of a Mediterranean climate, this should be as monumental as it is for the other living beings around us. Simultaneously, the sounds of winter set in. Are you listening?

Humans are very visual, but we have other senses that would be good to emphasize. Let’s call this next week “Sound Awareness Week.” This will have particular meaning for those who can’t hear at all or hear well: for those of you, perhaps your gift this next week is to help more people describe what they are hearing, a two-for-one kind of experience. For those of you who are already acutely aware of sound…there is always more to explore!

Background, Seasonless Sounds: Rural and Urban

Everywhere you go, there are always a few noises no matter what season. Airplanes: more so on weekends with recreational aircraft. Roaring motorcycles: replete with accentuating noise apparatus, illegal, but unenforced! Barking domestic dogs, a seemingly Universal human mishap: some dog owners can’t seem to hear their own hounds (or don’t care)!

Seasonless Urban Noises

As many readers are situated in urban or near-urban areas, let’s first sift through the background sounds that a realtor once told me (mistakenly) that I would ‘get used to’ so that one day I ‘won’t even notice.’ Traffic: the hum or revving of engines, the squealing of tires. Car stereos played so loudly as to accelerate deafness. Sirens. Fighting domestic cats. Crows, hundreds of crows cawing. Pigeons cooing. The mechanical noises of Boardwalk rides and the accompanying screaming.

Uniquely Rural Noises, All Year Round

A few birds and coyotes sing the same all year round. Dark eyed junco, spotted towhee, Stellars and California scrub jay, great horned owl…all birds that seem to go on and on with similar calls all year round. Many other birds clearly vary their songs more seasonally. Coyotes yap and chortle-howl most any time during the year.

Winter Noises

Think about those prior non-seasonal noises, review them and visit them in your mental soundscape…then think about what you are hearing these days that’s different than say a month ago.

The three big noises that mean winter most to me: rainfall, wind, and waves.

Rain

The many sounds of rain make me smile whenever I stop long enough to enjoy them. The sound of urban rain – on pavement, bouncing off cars, pouring off of roofs, rushing down storm drains. In the City, its like you are part of a giant cement fountain where all of the water is guided this way and that, popping out here and there by design.

In the country, you can enjoy the very varied sound of rain hitting different plant communities. Grassland rain is very quiet as millions of grass blades expertly catch and lower raindrops, springing back for the next one, dancing on and on, up and down. Conifer forest rain is quiet at first, too: needles delicately capture the oncoming rains. After a bit, the sound changes as the needles let loose big droplets that clamor as they pass down through the canopy and onto the ground. Waxy leaved plant communities, oak and madrone forests and chaparral have particularly rattly-noisy rain sounds. Raindrops pop when they hit those leaves, spattering and spraying with more noise still. Rain on the ocean, in lagoons and estuaries, and on ponds has the most soothing sound, where you can really get a sense of the minute changes in rainfall intensity and duration.

Wind

City and country wind sounds are different, too; either way, the wind noise is significantly heightened with the onset of winter storms. Tuning into wind noises in either place, you can visualize zephyrs and gust fronts as they pass by, come towards you, or after they retreat.

In the City, wind makes varied and unique high whistling noises as it passes through wires; there are wires everywhere in the City. If you live near a tree that catches the wind, you come to know its song. Palm trees rattle and bark. Conifers roar with different pitches. Bare branches of the many street trees also sing songs.

In the Country, the ridge top forests are often talking through the winter. Depending on the wind direction, each ridge and forest type has its own distant hum-roar-swoosh. If you are in the forest when its windy, you get to hear the groan and sometimes pop of trees swaying. Leafy evergreen live oaks make a noise in the wind that makes you wonder if its raining.

Waves

Big wave events are common around the Bay through the winter, and those waves make big noises. Besides bird song, listening for the waves is what most frequently brings me back to the moment. When I catch the wave noise and pause, I try to pick out individual waves even from far away. I try to follow that wave as its crashing progresses directionally. Then, I listen for the crescendo or the lulls of the varying sets. I pay attention to my breath to compare the tempo. Sometimes, I think I can feel the waves through the ground, perhaps the big noise reverberating into the ridges and terraces. After a particularly long lull, I pick up the spray off of the first big wave before the subsequent waves drown out that higher note. I’m thinking of late that long sets of big waves make tones like singing: listen for the notes, am I right?

Other Winter Noises

There are a few other winter noises that are unique to the city or countryside.

In the City, the sound of traffic changes as rolling tires are louder, making wet and splashing noises. The Boardwalk makes less noise.

In the Country, the ephemeral streams start their chorus. Post-storm waterfalls sing. Under the redwoods in the mountains, you can hear the flute-like call of the varied thrush, a winter denizen. In orchards and in riparian forests, you might hear the distinct whiney ‘weeent’ of the red-bellied sapsucker, another species only around in the rainy season.

Now Listen!

Its over to you…check it out…report back on the onset of uniquely winter sounds. Tell me, tell your family, tell your friends what’s all that noise about? Compare notes.

-this originally posted by Bruce Bratton in his outstanding weekly blog BrattonOnline.com – check it out, donate…and read it!

Rein of Seeds

Of all the phenomenon of Fall, seeds rein. Just as humans become silent around the table as they dig in, mouths full of the bounty, so have the non-human animals across the fields and forests surrounding Molino Creek Farm. A pale blue scrub jay appears on a high perch, its beak pried wide, holding a huge acorn. It dives to a patch of grass, furtively glancing about to assure no one is watching, and buries the acorn, no pause and it’s off for the next. Our normally squawky friends are quite busy with their oak harvest, back and forth, planting hundreds each day. It is not a great acorn crop year, so the competition is high.

The tiny goldfinches disperse like confetti in small flocks, alighting in field margins or scrubby areas to harvest the oil-rich seeds of thistles, prickly lettuce, and tarplants. Their songs, too, are muted, chatter replaced by dainty beak-seed-cracking.

Just one of the many nice views on the road into Molino Creek Farm

Redwoods

Fall in the wooded canyon means redwoods shedding needle-branches and a rain of seeds from newly opened, small cones. Recent gusts broke loose short sections of the outermost branches from redwood trees. Thin-stemmed branch tips are mostly needles, which are regularly shed this time of year and carpet trails and roads. Even ‘evergreen’ trees shed needles at regular intervals, each species with its own season. And so, the forest floor transforms from last year’s now dark duff to a light, red-brown coating of fresh redwood litter. Walking our Molino Creek Canyon trail now creates a crunchy, crackly sound. On a recent walk, I glanced down to appreciate the redwood fall and saw many redwood seeds sprinkled between the scattered needle branches. A heavy breeze swayed the trees back and forth over me and in all directions, and the air was suddenly filled with redwood seeds, bigger than dust and thickly moving like sheets of drizzle.

Madrone

A beautiful element of our woodlands is the flesh-smooth orange-barked madrone, becoming bedecked with ripening fruit, held high in the canopies. Presented in diffuse clusters just above their large oval shiny dark green leaves, the ripening madrone berries are changing from hard and green to fleshy and bright orange-red. Band tailed pigeons and other birds are feasting, sometimes knocking the ripe fruit to the ground where mammals gobble them up. When I am lucky enough to find a grounded, deeper red fruit, I also pop it in my mouth, reveling in the sweetness, near strawberry flavor.

Walnut

The prominent black walnuts, the signature trees of the farm, are turning lemon yellow and dropping ripe nuts with a plunking noise to the ground. The 2” fleshy globes roll about a bit after dropping from the trees, settling in the grass or, more evidently, on road surfaces. The sound of tires used to be the scritch of gravel but is now accentuated with the resonance of the rubber drum when a run-over tough walnut pops and gets crushed into the road. Ravens and juncos line the roadside fence awaiting the freshly exposed juicy, oily, tasty nutmeat that is announced by the tire drum “poing.”

One day, we’ll make olive oil again, but it will take a lot of catch-up maintenance

Pome Pome, Pome-Pome!

The fruit that we eat (and drink) is rolling off the trees in delicious piles and buckets and boxes and carts. We are more than 2,000 pounds into the 4,000 pound harvest, down from last year. Nothing goes to waste. There are very rare instances when someone doesn’t pick up a really gooey apple from the orchard floor. Hygiene is in high swing with the worst orchard trash heading to the weed suppression wildlife feast buffet. The deer, rabbits, quail and coyotes take turns at the castings: nothing lasts more than a few days. The last tractor bucket of culled apples, 200+ pounds, was mopped up in 2 days, down to bare earth.

That leaves 3 other types of apples: sale apples, take home apples, and cider apples. The most common harvester and sorter vocalization is ‘awww!’ as they realize the rarity of the perfect fruit, the choice apple that is sent to market. That’s one in 8 this year, due to the uncontrolled apple scab of the moist spring. The other 8 apples are 30:70 take home apples versus cider apples. The take home apples are sent in boxes, buckets, and bags to the growingly extensive community orchardists; they have the most minor blemishes and there are hundreds of them. Our working bee network has been making their own juice, drying them, stewing apple (-quince) sauce, and just plain enjoying the crisp diversity of flavors from the many varieties we grow. The cider apples have a few more blemishes or even some signs of worms…the latter making work for the cider pressing party as chattering, smiling clean up crews prepare the fruit for a better juicing.

Juice!

The cider pressing last Saturday attracted 30 or so of our network, new and old pressers, taking the 500 pounds (or more) to 30 (or more) gallons of nectar – delicious juice. Much of this will become hard cider for future gatherings; many enjoyed diverse ciders from prior pressings. Most abundant fruit of this year’s press, Fuji, but also Mutsu which makes famously fine flavored juice. Mixed in here and there were true cider apples, varieties that are just starting to produce after 8 years in the ground. The cider apples add bitterness or sourness or tartness and overall complexity to the juice from what would otherwise be plainer if produced only from table apples.

The Community Orchardists sponsored a recent squeezing of fresh juice for the Pacific School in Davenport, our neighborhood! Bob Brunie schlogged the equipment and demonstrated the process to the schoolkids, some of whom were returnees and they enjoyed it a whole lot..

Bob Brunie shows off Molino Creek Farm’s Cidering Process to Pacific School kids, photo compilments of Mike Eaton

The falls’ fruit produces juice, brewed into all seasons’ mirth. With toiling gladness, we renew the stocks annually. Cycles of production and consumption – foundational in nature – quench more than mere bodily thirst, leading to deeper appreciation of Earth.

-this post also shared via Molino Creek Farm’s website, same time, same author

Falling leaves and moist winter chill

Fallen leaves blown across the forest path, under foot while walking, go “swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.” The sound of moist leaves (not crisply crunchy), an early rain and cool nights softened the landscape, removed the dust, made things gentle again. We are relaxing, slowly shedding the stress of the Fall’s potential for wildfire made more real these past many weeks by wind-carried smoke from prescribed fires across the entire state, even nearby at Wilder Ranch.

Breezes carry in the clouds and then clear the clouds, waves after waves of clouds and then sun alternate as the dry summer plays with the wet winter, back and forth. This week, winter won with a bit of rain, shy of an inch and not yet wetting the soil more than superficially. After the rain, some sunny warmth and then the wind, fog, and another front , and it got chilly. Tuesday evening fog piled up on the other side of the prominent ridge across Molino Creek and poured over it, falling like a ghostly waterfall backlit by the evening sun. Beautiful!

Neither the rain nor the subsequent drippy fog has been enough to release the cedar-scented petrichor, much anticipated.

we do grow olives…for locals only olive oil!

Big swell, seasonal scents

Last night’s goose bump chill sent us to close the windows, put on sweaters, and some even built their first wood stove fires. And today’s cool air reminded me of how I’ve been taking the sun’s warmth for granted and how I’ll miss that deeply warm sense for a long time soon. The cool air, moisture, and gusty breezes accentuate the piney, resinous smells of redwood, Douglas fir, and coyote brush. Winds across the ocean pushed up an epic swell recently. Roaring and thumping waves reverberated across the landscape, but now there’s just a low more consistent hum. The patterns of breezes with long lulls awaken the senses, especially when it is peaceful on the farm but the trees on the ridge start talking, telling us a big gust is coming.

Feathered visitors

Geese, Canada and white fronted, are honking their melodies overhead near sundown. They are making their way to their winter grounds.

The newest birds are blackbirds, strutting around the fields in flocks, their heads moving curiously straight back and then straight forward with every stride. This evening, the light was catching the glean off the backs of a flock of Brewer’s blackbirds, reflecting the iridescent deep purple-blue of their gorgeous plumage. They let me get close but eventually alighted to show me the bicolor blackbirds in their midst. There are around 50 of this mixed flock and more may still arrive. They love to eat the grass seeds in the cover crop. They might even be anticipating it.

Other wildlife

Otherwise, the wildlife report is all about the Very Big Buck, coyotes, and chirping bright blue bluebirds. Perhaps there’s more than one Very Big Buck, but people are talking about an extraordinarily large, very impressive male deer from here to Davenport and north to Swanton. This creature stands very smart and tall with a giant set of antlers nearly 3’ across. He stood in the roadway looking intently north where he couldn’t traverse without going around the deer fence. He hesitated, looked north again, and then sauntered uphill following the fence line, somehow seemingly begrudgingly.

Nearly nightly, the coyotes sing. They aren’t doing the long musical numbers with multiple animals yipping and howling, but rather it’s a series of solos of the one coyote couple. One evening, they were calling from way up the Molino Creek canyon. Another evening, they sang right outside the window. Each night they try making some song from a different place, perhaps checking out the acoustics: the echoes are always fun.

The throaty, watery chirps of western bluebirds grace our midst. The brilliant blue flashes from the males’ zig-zaggy flights are breathtaking. There were seven birds, up a couple from last count. With that plumage, one wonders if they are considering breeding early…

The fading row crops will soon be tilled in and cover crop will grow, instead

Fall farming

We’re not quite ready to cover crop. There are still 10 days of tomatoes to harvest and the apple harvest is in full swing. The floral crisp sweet Gala apples are almost all gone; we will pick no more for market. Last weekend, we picked all the remaining Mutsu apples which had been devastated by the apple scab disease that enjoyed our late wet warm spring. Next up are the Fuji apples, and there are plenty of those! Plus, there are Golden Delicious, an underappreciated long storing apple of extraordinary flavor. In the Barn there are hundreds of pounds of culled apples that we’ll soon be juicing for cider. And so, we pick, pick, pick…sending on the perfect apples to market. Between picking spells, we spread compost and mow to prepare for harrowing in the bell bean seeds.

those rusty brown tentacles….avocado roots poking up into the loose, month-old compost!

Tentacles in the compost

The Community Orchardists have been spending the last many weeks spreading compost under many trees. Around a month ago, we spread compost under the avocados on Citrus Hill. After that little bit of rain, I noticed those avocadoes looked particularly perky and vibrantly green. So, today I pushed around the compost to see if the avocado roots had invaded it: they had! It is so curious to me that avocado trees push pointy tenacles of roots straight up, out of the soil into mulch. How do those thick pokey roots feed off the mulch? Such a mystery.

Returning Friends

High in a fruiting apple tree, harvest bags slung over our shoulders, we stop picking to glance up the road…gravel scrunching noise…a car winding its way down the road onto the farm. A neighbor or a visitor? We narrow our eyes to see where it goes, who is returning home? Who is visiting whom? By car, wing, or scales, we welcome all sorts of friends returning to Molino Creek Farm.

A String of Celebrations

The harvest festivals have already begun. We are pressing apples with two pressings already behind us, 40 gallons of divine apple juice in freezers, refrigerators, or in carboys fermenting. Upcoming is Samhain, the midpoint between the Fall Equinox and Winter Solstice, a time when the veil grows thin separating the ancestors with those here now. We will be attentive to the shadows, echoes and whispers of those who walked and loved this place before. John Brunie used to perform the astrological calculations of the exact date and time of these sacred holidays, but he’s gone so we seek a new calendar keeper for the Farm. Thanksgiving means some leave the farm for gatherings elsewhere and others arrive, a string of quiet days, friends roaming the fields and trails sharing stories and luxuriant first rain smells. The forest floor and roads are often littered with evergreen branches at Thanksgiving, blown about by the winter’s first storm. We weave fallen boughs into circles, recognizing the cycles of time. Winter solstice lies shortly thereafter and then the Wassail brings the string of celebrations to a temporary close. We are at the threshold of gatherings a’plenty.

We regularly hire who we can to mow down acres of flammable coastal scrub

Equinox Birds

The Fall Equinox has hellos and goodbyes. We said hello to hundreds of golden crowned sparrows who returned to this place from Alaska on the very evening of the Equinox as they have done time and time again. With strong site fidelity, these birds love this place more deeply than we can ever understand. These same families, these same clans, have potentially been returning for hundreds of thousands of years to this very spot. If we peer at them enough, we can recognize individuals; they already know each of the neighbors and maybe many of our friends. The Equinox saw the flight of the barn swallows, who returned to Central and South America. They may have spent days singing goodbye, soaring one more time past their favorite trees, and then they were off. As they left, the particularly whiny sapsucker(s?) dove into the orchard from the great migration from who knows where. We need help to see how many there are: last year there were three in the family. Sapsucker is elusive and shy, requiring some focused time searching for each individual to figure out how many will be here this winter. The changing birds greatly alters the soundscape. The dominant noise in the spring and summer were the creaky whistles and laughing chatter of swallows. Now, the dominant bird noise is the golden crowned sparrows’ forlorn call, a descending set of notes that might be, ‘Oh dear me,’ repeated from every shrub and tree. What hasn’t changed is the sheer biomass of birds inhabiting the Farm. Stepping out the door still flushes 50 birds. A walk down the roads or paths creates a continuous wake of fleeing birds. Feather flutter and alarm cheeps everywhere.

Winter Waves

The sets of roaring and breaking big winter waves have returned. Lately, there has been no still peace as the reverberations of the ocean form a white noise backdrop to a cacophony of warm night crickets interspersed with bouts of hooting owls. The waves create a mist that blankets the ocean side farms, spreading a bit up the coastal canyons. When the waves are big and there’s even the gentlest onshore breeze, we can smell the fresh sea scent from the Farm, 2 miles inland and 900’ up. When the waves get really big, it seems the ground rumbles beneath our feet. These are familiar phenomena which make this seem more like home.

Coyote Friends

In Spring, we saw a female and her pup coyote. She had a peculiar white line behind her shoulders, a ridge of brighter fur that stood up a little above the rest. She was lithe and wary, always on the move, never playing as so many of our wild dog friends had done before. The other day, I saw her again, following the large male neighbors had been talking about. We have a pair of coyote friends! May they find a fine place to have pups nearby and feast on the rabbits and gophers that are so common around the farm. From their scat, it looks like they are enjoying apples and tomatoes for now. The two sing many nights, a deeper growly staccato barking paired with a longer noted, high yipping song.

Fall Scenes

The cycle of seasons delivers us a quintessential peaceful Fall. Time slows. The sun very gradually sets into longer and longer nights. The hills are muted colors now, dry leaves rattling. Once tall upright golden grass has settled, askew and gray-brown. The fruit and nut trees show hints of yellow. In the forest, maples, thimbleberry, and hazelnut are dropping lemon yellow leaves, splashes of color in the shade of the towering redwood forest. Bright squash litter the Two Dog fields as their peppers turn deep red. The poison oak is still moist, only a few bright red patches on the drier shrubby sites. The sunset sky is streaked with smoke from prescribed fires, humans returning to their roots, stewarding the land once again.

The last rays of sunset from a tall spot on the farm

May you take the time to meander about, soaking up the warm fall evenings.

Slowing Down -or- Rushing?

So much environmental degradation seems to be due to our rushing around. How can we best slow down? Each of us can do our part in creating the Great Slowdown that we need to sustain the planet.

Save More, Buy Less

The first and easiest way to help the Great Slowdown is to stop buying so much Stuff. If you haven’t watched the Story of Stuff in a while, or not at all, DO IT NOW. This 21-minute video is compelling, fun, and has changed more lives than many a 20-some minute experience otherwise. I think it’s worth watching regularly, perhaps in October just before the stuff-a-thon holiday season besets our culture.

If you listen to the news, you will understand how important buying stuff is for our unsustainable economy. “Inflation is up, but ‘luckily’ consumer spending is cooking right along, otherwise our economy would be hosed.” A president once said in a national crisis, something like, “Just keep buying stuff!” Time is money, and by spending your money on useless crap, you are wasting your time, carelessly throwing away your life, and helping to wreck the planet. A few years ago, someone did a calculation and the transaction cost of each dollar spent was a liter of oil. I’m betting it’s worse now. Save a buck, keep a liter of oil from burning up.

Stop Rushing at Work

There is so much pressure to do more at work, but is that really helping anything? Chances are good that the more we rush, the worse off the planet is. How about we slow down? Carefully watch those who rush around with their work: why are they doing that? I’m betting that they mostly want to impress people, get others to work harder, or they are avoiding problems at home or something they might better be doing for Real Good.

The labor movement has something called ‘working by the book,’ which we might emulate to improve the planet. What is absolutely necessary to do with your work? What does the job description say? What are the metrics for success? Often, organizations keep the productivity targets elusive, to keep everyone guessing or trying to push for more. On the other hand, if productivity targets are defined, ask yourself if they are set too high. If so, it might be time to work with your colleagues to reduce them to something more manageable.

Slowing down at work is part of the solution, part of the Great Slowdown.

Working for the Planet

The capitalist system mostly asks each worker to create efficiencies that are bad for the planet. As we learn to care more for the planet, we will find ways to sneak improvements into the workplace that will help Earth. Is there a way to reduce driving, material transport, waste? Does your workplace purchase recycled paper, organic foods, and other eco-friendly products? Maybe there’s a sustainability policy on your business’ horizon.

Beware the Fakes

If you see potential greenwashing, ask about it! I recently asked a seemingly eco-conscious caterer what they meant by “gourmet sandwiches, made from the finest local ingredients” and it turned out that they used very mainstream factory-farmed meats and conventionally grown produce distributed from warehouses far away. They soon thereafter changed their menu language. That was the third time I was able to affect that kind of change. Do we choose places that are true to their word about their products? How do we know if we don’t ask? Why would they be true to their word if folks never asked?

Buy Green

The list of businesses that are truly green is getting smaller, not larger in Santa Cruz. There are fewer restaurants serving local, organic foods than there were a few years ago. Local grocery stores are sliding further from, not closer to, sustainability. I suspect all of this is because people are not pursuing green purchases.

Keep Your Keel

How easy it is to go with the flow, but is that truly the best thing for the planet? There is a concept called ‘slippage’ where environmental policies are interpreted in ways that slip away from the intent of the policy, usually with negative environmental consequence.

If your work entails intersection with environmental policies, it is time to ask how you can help interpret those to environmental benefit, not environmental degradation. It is time also to ask what is the greatest good you can do with your work, focusing on the issues of greatest impact for environmental improvement. As I’ve said in prior posts, the metric should be species conservation: how can our work best affect that outcome? The answers are usually easy to arrive at.

Beware of False Dichotomies

Those who are most invested in slippage often use false dichotomies. Parks managers often note that they have a difficult dual mandate: to provide for public recreational access while conserving wildlife. For a large portion of Santa Cruz County, managers are leaning heavily on this false dichotomy to ‘sell’ the concept that it’s just fine for our wildlife to disappear because of their mismanagement. Trails erode tons of sediment into streams and wetlands, trash litters our beautiful beaches, and graffiti proliferates on sea cliffs because of the slippage that is embraced by the poor logic presented by parks managers’ adoption of their false dichotomies.

Parks Management Slippage

Many of these parks’ managers use other forms of slippage. The California Public Resources Code says this about State Parks: “Following classification or reclassification of a unit by the State Park and Recreation Commission, and prior to the development of any new facilities in any previously classified unit, the department shall prepare a general plan or revise any existing plan for the unit.” Look at the North Coast beaches, and Gray Whale Ranch…and, enter slippage: none of those have general plans, and all have ‘new facilities.’ I’m sure that someone, somewhere can provide some beautiful logic about how that can be possible. Has someone said ‘if anyone asks just tell them we never “classified or reclassified” those “units” and they were never “previously classified” (hardy-har-har-har, that’ll get ‘em).’ Anyone in their right mind would know that the responsible thing to do would be to create a general plan before opening a park, and that’s what was meant by that part of the Resources Code. Meanwhile, we must all ask WHY are these precious places opened to visitation without a plan to conserve wildlife on those spectacularly biodiverse places?? If you work for State Parks, you must ask yourself what place you have played in allowing such things to happen and how you might reverse this slippage. If you work for other land conservation organizations, you might have similar things to ponder: do you hold a false dichotomy promulgated by those with anti-conservation agendas? Where do you lie on the spectrum of serving Earth or serving Greed? If you are torn and in doubt, maybe it’s time to slow down and ‘work by the book.’ It might be better if you embrace the Great Slowdown in your job while you increasingly help others become aware of slippage.

-this post originally found at BrattonOnline.com

Winter Wrestles with Summer, Fall Progresses

Two nights ago, the lower portions of our farm dipped into the chilly 40s. Today, it was in the 80’s, tomorrow even warmer with two ‘warm’ nights not lower than 65F. Such warm nights bring a cacophony of crickets along with late summer katydids. Our ears seem to ring, and seeking the source of any one of the insect songs creates a confusing, 360° immersive dizziness. A visitor remarked, “what IS that noise?” Such sounds are not found in the City. Such sounds are not even everywhere on the farm, only in places on the farm. There are pockets of nightsong. Seek them where you can, it is a worthy experiential destination.

Sundown on the Pacific, just a short ways from the Farm

Country-style Night Show

Even where they sometimes fill the air from all directions, the insect songs fade in and out, sometimes louder and sometimes softer. Some species go quiet leaving the chorus to others and those then fade to the next song, a repeating pattern that never grows old. Some insects sing trill….trill….trill and others have a more constant chitter. Some play lower stridulations, others high, shrill ear-piercing whines. For biologists, I note black field crickets persist in lower numbers than in the early summer; now there are more brown ones. Also, the invasive green tree crickets sing with oscillating medium-toned trills from which you can calculate the temperature. The late summer, and this year in particular, features the massive laterally compressed long-legged bug-eyed katydids, a source of high-pitched, especially ear aching whining: you particularly notice when they take a break. On warm nights like tonight, there is no real silence of insects, only lulls, and always with the green tree crickets’ consistent “wee….wee….wee….wee….wee….wee….wee….wee…” Under the insect chorus, enter a baritone montage: wave sets crashing, their pulsing drone carried by the gentle onshore cool breeze. The light show for the orchestra: fields of stars and the stripe of the Spectacular Milky Way that us country dwellers get to enjoy far from the polluting night lighting which ostensibly provides increased safety and orientation in the cityscapes.

Dawn Revealing

In the East, the first glimmers of dawn cast doubt on night, but darkness at first prevails, some stars still brightly shining. The wakening mind returns to semi-slumber, the day’s return a dream (?). Another thought, eyes wider, the sky a new brighter gray and another glance brings certainty…a new day, a return to the waking life and the tasks at hand. Awakening brings smiles and gladness for the peace of country life and ease of transition into farm routines.

Watering and Harvest

Many fields are dry-farmed, and those are curiously bedecked with fading green foliage and the brightening fruit harvest. Other areas are irrigated and so still vibrant green, though the last planting of sunflowers is fading.

Those irrigated areas need regular attention during this, the driest part of the Mediterranean summer. The waves of heat alternating with cool and even drizzle make for irregular water demand. In anticipation of heat waves, we saturate the soil more. With spells of cool and drizzle, we slack off a bit and catch up. Shovels explore the soil to record the moisture condition, sometimes surprisingly dry… trees full of ripening apples are especially thirsty. We are trained to keep the soil moisture above 50%, but predicting where it will be any one day is a learning opportunity, always.

Midday Warmth

The hot days tax farmworkers and birds, alike. Tomato and pepper harvest comes midday with backs bent, sun baked and sweating; picking commences no matter the weather. Above the farmers, migrating hawks ride warm thermals higher, soaring up and then south. A very rare occurrence: there were six red-tailed hawks and another large raptor even higher over the farm today. The great migrations called “hawktober” often co-occur with the recurring shimmering heat waves so common this month. Other birds avoid the open sun, chipping lazily from the shade of shrubs. Late in the afternoon, down by the ocean, a mixed flock of various blackbirds alighted on the roadside. Their beaks were open, panting, even as the day cooled at 5pm.

Evening

If we can, we wait to harvest apples outside of the hottest part of the day, and we can stand while doing it…easier on the body. Heavy picking bags leave the shoulders achy, and we switch sides to even the ache. The hurried apple harvest races the setting sun. What started as bright sun fades to soft golden light so briefly before all sunlight retreats to muted dusk, quickly darkening. Boxes and buckets of apples go into the barn with the last available light. Overnight, boxed apples cool naturally before the market delivery the following day.

On warm evenings like today, a great emergence of moths alights. Big moths and small zip and float everywhere, and it is impossible not to get hit in the face as they flit about. The bats are getting fatter. Poor-wills clumsily flap and dart, pouncing on their insect prey.

Also at dusk, the deer arise from their folded legs to traipse about looking for forage. Lately, they’ve been munching on the leaves of freshly felled walnut tree trimmings. Someone improved our farm road tree tunnel and left piles of fallen black walnut tree branches: this is a seasonally favorite food of the deer. Momma and her adolescent offspring deer (still unnamed) are at that salad bar. A young male caught her scent and wandered onto the farm this evening, a rare sight. The wayward bucks are very flighty and he was no exception. Upon being noticed, he bounded away, alert and head held high.

The last light of dusk barely illuminates the fading sunflowers at Molino Creek Farm

Night

Great horned owls, coyotes, foxes, and more. Two great horned owls have been having regular evening hooting contests. They sit in trees not too far apart and hoot loudly, taking turns, back and forth. There’s a silent bit, then one of them starts on some odd, non-hooty noises but then returns to the hoots soon thereafter. Is this a long conversation, or do they revel in the joy of creating or exchanging subtle variations in pitch and enunciation? They do not tire. They must be day sleepers.

Coyote barks seldom. Cassandra reports seeing a particularly large one. They leave big poops full of tomatoes and apples. Sylvie reports fox feasting on her Asian pears- a tree worth. There are poops from fox, too, all across the farm. Weasels excavate gopher runs in the apple orchard, freshly dug soil mounds ending at large gopher holes each morning. There may be a weasel den under a prune tree.

Night strolls to manage irrigation reveal black widow spiders more commonly than any other spider. One striking large female complained about my opening the gate she was building a web trap at the base of.

Mice scurrying (but never seen) is another commonality.

These balmy nights bring pulses of warm air settling onto the farm from higher up the mountain. Warm blobs of air get pushed around by cooler onshore breezes, or nudged here and there by sinking chillier streams of Molino Creek canyon air. The half mile walk across the Farm sends me through boundaries of three or four contrasting temperature air masses, and the new temperature also brings new scents and different humidities.

Seasons Passing

We have already passed through several waves of harvests and are set to see the last run of this year. Last February saw baskets of citrus and then Spring brought us peas and cherries. The first tomato, not until August, was a real delight, now we are in peak production. The prune plums are nearly gone as are the early comice pears. We are entering a marathon of 6 weeks of apple harvest, and that will be the end of the harvest season with the transition back around to citrus and all that follows next year. We compare years of apple harvest and the resulting cider. We mark our annual cycles as ‘before the Fire, or since the fire.’ Rains return and we burn huge piles of cut brush then the brush piles build again to be reduced the next year. On and on. Earth whirls around the Sun and we bound through space and time.

A Fine Legacy

How do we leave a good legacy that will benefit future generations in a world of uncertainty? Some suggest well-raised children are a sure bet, but with this the humble must demur. We must however try. I suggest two other things that are essential: 1) species and ecosystem restoration on natural lands and 2) building soil health on agricultural lands. These are things we can each find a way to support, and they are both crucial for the future of life on Earth.

A World of Uncertainty

We live in extraordinary, unprecedented times. Humans have built a remarkable global civilization with a burgeoning population. To survive, we are in a race to shed polluting fossil fuels. But, we have no idea if and how we can replace all that petroleum has provided to fuel population growth and the civilizing of landscapes. No matter what superficial form of government seems to be in place, the “oilogarchy” is deeply entrenched, exercising economic and political control. For evidence, just watch US politics: both parties’ have an inability to act in the expeditious way that the vast majority of citizens know to be necessary. And so, life, including human life, on Earth will likely become much more difficult for the next several hundred years. Of course, we should rise up and protest as if life itself depends on it, but there are other tangible things we can do to make the world more habitable for future generations.

Species and Ecosystem Restoration

There are a variety of activities you can partake in to help restore species and ecosystems, which humans will increasingly rely on for their wellbeing. As global warming creates climate chaos, and as humans increasingly falter without boosts from cheap petro-supplies, species diversity and resilient ecosystems will become more closely tied to better standards of living.

Oil and Water

For an example, let’s consider water. Some suggest oil and water don’t mix, but the two are closely intertwined over most of the world. We might suppose that the role petroleum plays in repairing, creating, and powering our water supply will be replaced by some renewable energy supply in the future. Plastic pipes will be made from hemp, renewable energy will power our pumps, electric vehicles will transport the legions of water district workers who maintain water systems, etc. However, when rain comes in torrential bursts or not at all, we will rely on very well-tended ecosystems to absorb and meter out rainfall so that we can benefit from more dependable surface or groundwater supplies.

Dust Storms

For another example, let’s consider erosion. The stability of our infrastructure- homes, utility lines, roads, dams, communication towers, airports, etc., depends on more than just good geological anchors: that stability is deeply dependent on functioning ecosystems. Species hold our stuff together. On the coast and along rivers and streams, species protect shorelines. On hillsides, in the mountains and on the plains, species hold the land in place. Without a wealth of species supported by resilient ecosystems, everything will come unzipped – gullies, floods, landslides…infrastructure collapse. At the same time, the bared soil will start to blow and dust storms will become more frequent, destroying engines, burying buildings and roads, and darkening the sky.

Restoration Means Now

The species that currently perform best at the “holding the soil in place” function are likely not the ones that will do best in a hundred years, given the rapidly changing climate. So, we must conserve every species, and plan to allow species migration through a healthy landscape of resilient ecosystems. Right now, this very year, we must quickly turn increasingly to restoration of the land because we have degraded too many places already. You can help by volunteering with the many habitat restoration projects in our area, taking better care of your land, voting for politicians that support ecological restoration and land care, spreading the word, and/or giving money to groups that are making a difference. Many people are joining this movement, we are making a difference, and we need more help.

Bye-Bye Soil, Hello Agricultural Substrate

Since World War 2, agricultural systems have become increasingly intertwined with petroleum at great expense to the soil that humans rely on for sustenance. Petroleum-fueled mechanical cultivation has destabilized billions of tons of soil which has already washed or blown away due to recklessness. You can watch it happening, still: in the Salinas and Pajaro valleys and along Santa Cruz’ North Coast watch the soil blow or wash away, depending on the season. At the same time, cheap fertilizers and expedient pesticides have been made possible by petroleum and the application of these have destroyed ecosystems that once sustained and built topsoil. Farmers for years have acted like soil is just a substrate, something to hold a plant in place long enough to harvest a crop. And so, most agricultural land is highly degraded and production is increasingly and deeply dependent on the supply of petroleum. While we can, there is a great opportunity to build the kind of soil health that will be necessary to feed humans when petroleum-subsidized fertilizers become too expensive, and the human population is still larger than it is now.

Soil Health

Healthy agricultural soils can retain more water, provide plants more dependable nutrition, and stabilize pest outbreaks. So, why would a farmer not create more healthy soils? There are two main reasons. First, investing in healthy soil reduces profits. For example, using cover crops to cover and build the soil during the rainy season means the loss of one or more potential harvests. That also drives up food costs, which then helps to create the second reason: mandates for soil health are politically difficult. The good news is that you can help with both of these conundrums.

You Can Help Create Healthy Soil

We all purchase groceries, and the choices we make can help support soil stewardship. Already, the organic agriculture movement has been growing and makes a difference for soil health. Certified organic agriculture requires farmers to find alternatives to pesticides and fertilizers that are synthesized from petroleum. In ‘conventional’ agriculture, novel petro-created compounds working alone or as a mixed concoction are released into agricultural systems without analysis on long-term soil health. Organic farmers more often rely on soil health as a means of production, and the higher cost of those products reflects that investment. Some tell me that they can’t afford organic foods, but discussions reveal that they are unwilling to make more basic food choices, preferring to rely on processed foods or meat that are especially more expensive when certified organic. Going organic may mean dietary changes that might be more healthy, anyway.

Besides using the power of your purse to support farmers who build soil health, you might more directly create healthy soils in community orchards or gardens. You can volunteer in a school garden which has the added benefit of helping children better understand soil health and healthy foods. You might also support, by volunteering or donations, organizations that are working to improve soil health on agricultural lands.

-this piece originally published by Bruce Bratton in his extraordinary BrattonOnline.com, the place to go for movie reviews and local news…unparalleled. Sign up and get it weekly. Donate and it is money well spent.

The Arrival of Fall

Last Friday, Night equaled Day; it was the Equinox, and our world stood in balance. From here, things tilt rapidly towards the dominance of Night, and we share the Sun increasingly with the South for a while. There, Spring is emerging. The cooling temperature change switch is not thrown quickly; there is a lag of the Sun’s heating, and we often are assaulted by wilting, week-long heat waves in October. The return of the rainy season will likely be a way off. Meanwhile, the Harvest is in full swing at Molino Creek Farm with all of its various enterprises. Welcome to Fall.

Organic Gala apple fruit are laden on one of many trees in our older trees

The Orchard

Apple trees hang heavily with giant loads of ripening fruit. The branches bend more each day as fruits get bigger, juicier, and more colorful. Gala apples are finally gaining their peachy blush, underlaying the sun-side bright red streaking, overlaying the shade-side yellows. Our much smaller crop of Mutsu apples are getting Really Big and kissed with a patch of purply red where they see the most sunshine. The Braeburn and Jonagold crops, a total failure due to apple scab, a combined result of the long, moist, cool spring and our own lack of applying sulfur to kill it. There are so many other varieties…one tree each…to taste, to give to friends to taste…to revel in the diversity of apple flavors and textures. Oh, and then there’s the patch of Wickson Crabs, which are laden with the tart poppy nuggets that will tint so many batches of hard cider, real soon.

The gold-red-purple French prune-plums are past but the yummier deep purple Italian prune plums are getting ripe now: tarts a’hoy!

Nearby, young avocado trees are stretching with late summer growth shoots, so well-tended and vigorous. And, an array of citrus also puts on pale new growth while slowly swelling their fruits toward a February harvest.

A Big Moon rises over Molino Creek Farm and its patches of dry-farmed Early Girl tomatoes

The Tomatoes

Rows and rows of tomato vines are laden with fruit of all colors. The harvest will continue for a while. There are plenty of pale green orbs from tiny younglings to larger plumpers. Pale orange fruits are transitioning to the bright reds, nestled within distinctly green foliage. Between the rows, tossed rejects of tomatoes melt into the soil and flocks of birds flit around chowing on their remains, hungry especially for the protein-rich seeds.

Harvesting

The ripening tomatoes go into buckets only so full. The apples go into shoulder-mounted bags. Both fruit get sorted for sale. Tomatoes of varying quality go for varying prices. Only the perfect apples go to sale, the rest to home use, charity, or juice (cider!). Starting tomorrow, apple harvesters will gather a few times a week and we will be handling 6,000 pounds between now and Thanksgiving. Wow.

Seasonal Wildlife

On the drive down to the highway last Monday, I saw the Largest Buck…a real beauty with big antlers, a broad chest, and massive muscles. That large of a male is a rare sight, one I’ve experienced only three times since 1986. Back on the farm, we have a much smaller mother deer and only one of her twins from last season. Their still summer coats are shiny and light-roast coffee brown, and they appear well fed and relaxed. They have enough food to not be walking around on two legs reaching up for the Fall walnut leaves, but I smile remembering that ridiculous-looking behavior.

Like clockwork, the golden-crowned sparrows returned last Friday night. They always return on the night of the Equinox. The sound of their songs are now coloring the days; they have transformed the soundscape to mark the seasonal transition. This is somehow deeply comforting.

Scent Landscape

With the sweet sparrow song also arrives the scent of Fall. So many things contribute to the scentscape. Mostly, it is the piney-bitter smell of coyotebush, but add to it wafting sweetness of flowering domestic garden plants- angel’s trumpet, San Pedro cactus, four-o’clock and ornamental ginger. Also, the breezes bring other scent ingredients like agricultural sulfur, pungent tomato foliage, cidery apple culls, and so much more. The dry, cool air accentuates and mixes these scents and creates the Molino Creek fall perfume. Emerging from the night warmth of shelter, we breathe deeply the outdoor air to experience all that’s on the air.

When the clouds and fog clear – the minority of nights as of late – the star-filled sky is bright with the Milky Way. Tonight, a Big Moon hails and lights the farm in its blue glow, illuminating the soon-to-be walk to juggle irrigation valves once again.

Somewhere, somehow…it is all Right Now

Right, now

Posted simultaneously at the website for Molino Creek Farm.