Nevermore Farm – Growing And Conserving A Variety Of Unusual Produce And Livestock

Occasionally it’s fun to write about things only tangential to farming, so this is one of those times. I’ve wanted to compose an essay for awhile on the topic of “How I came to be a SF Giants baseball nut after a lifetime of not giving a whoop about organized sports.” This actually has something to do with farming, so stay tuned. When I met my farming partner some years back, his house was the place to hang on hot summer afternoons. Fully air-conditioned, relative peace and quiet, and a big screen TV with HD. My farming partner IS a sports nut, which has always been a guaranteed eye-roller for me. Sports in general has always seemed to me to be a topic that aborbs too many, to the unfortunate exclusion of other more important pursuits. I grew up in a house where every sport known to man was on TV, seemingly constant. Football was incomprehensible and basketball wasn’t far behind. Boxing seemed ugly, and golf, NASCAR, tennis and anything else I’m forgetting to mention were like watching paint dry. There was always a little tolerance for baseball on my part, though, because my dad used to take me to A’s games and I liked that. I didn’t understand the game beyond the merest basics, but I strongly liked being at the ballpark. It felt exciting to see things happening in front of me, even though I didn’t know triple play from a ground rule double. My dad tried to explain the game to me somewhat, but at that time in my life it just didn’t seem to compute. But even back then there I had an awareness that baseball was something American, and that just like I was a kid sitting in the stands now, other kids at my age in days long past went to the ballpark too….it connected all of us. So back to those summer afternoons…..my partner has season tickets to the SF Giants, and the ball games were always on during those hot afternoons at the house. One day I spotted a large book on the shelf, which was the publication version of Ken Burns’ “Baseball” mega-documentary. I started reading at the beginning for something to do, and rapidly found myself completely sucked in. By the time I was a kid in the 70s, I would argue that the game had changed quite a bit, and for the worse. Huge player salaries and all the bureaucracy that accompanies modern professional sports always seemed to be the talk. But in that book, I read about the old time baseball players that were heroes to generations of Americans. Men who didn’t earn big money, but played with heart and captivated the national imagination because their whole purpose was to excel with pride at what they did. No one will get me to believe that Ty Cobb or Christy Mathewson were in it for the money, because back then there just wasn’t that much paid to those guys. And so reading about these players of a bygone time gave me some excitement, some understanding of what the game was and why it had a pedigree worth learning about. Also noteworthy for the amateur historian in me were the parallels between baseball and the evolution of American society, which others have written about so well elsewhere. So after many months, I finished the “Baseball” book, and was logging more and more hours staring at baseball games. I realized how much I didn’t understand about the rules and what I was seeing, and I asked a million questions. And one day we were invited to go to a game. I had never been to AT&T park, and was rather overwhelmed…the seats weren’t just okay seats, they were 9 rows behind home plate with a perfect view of everything. I had a great time, but it was the beginning of a monster being born. In the course of the next two seasons (which were pretty darn awful, reallly) I found that one day I knew who all the players were. And began to form some knowledge of how well or poorly they played. And while it made some fans happy, the Barry Bonds era didn’t do it for me. He always seemed surly, and his physique just screamed “enhanced body”. Baseball’s sad relationship with performance-enhancing drugs felt like another reason to not get too excited about this sport….who cares about how many home runs or whatever else, when it wasn’t done without a”little extra help”? I sat and thought about how Babe Ruth played his amazing ball in spite of being half-pickled most of the time he was on the mound…I could note with some irony that many of the old-timers played with performance-detracting substances and still managed to set records….that sort of excellence didn’t seem to be anywhere. And if some was out there to be found, the first thing I’d wonder is which steroid the guy was on. So fast forward to the season before last. Not knowing anything about drafts or college baseball or any of that, I only knew that one day there was this Tim Lincecum kid on the mound. He pitched with a sneer and his cap pulled down so low it was hard to see his eyes. He was slightly built and….where did he come from again? But it didn’t take long to realize that here was finally something to become a little excited about. One look tells me there aren’t steroids in that body…and as the games unfolded, it became obvious that just maybe, here was someone who was a blast from the past and someone to defy the stereotypes all rolled into one. Then last season started, but this time Timmy had the Cy Young in hand. When it was time to get the season tickets, who cared who the opposite team was, just get the games for which Timmy was pitching! As the season ran on with a flagship pitching staff trying to bail out the leaky boat of No Decent Offense, Tim just shined. Sure, Randy and Matt, Barry and Jonathan put in amazing performances all around, but it was Tim that filled the seats more than any other…with those unhittable pitches and the physique that wasn’t supposed to be big enough for the major leagues. I was lucky enough to be there the night they almost ran out of spaces to hang Ks on the outfield wall…..I know why I like to see Tim play. It’s easy…he is displaying the excellence that comes from a young lifetime of hard work, sacrifice and discipline. When other 17 year olds spent their entire weekends moving a joystick around Grand Theft Auto, I’m guessing Tim either never touched the controller or at the very least put it down in short order to go outside and practice. And practice and practice. And frankly, in today’s society, individuals like that stand out because there are fewer and fewer of them around. The sum of my baseball interests has at least shed some light for me on the value of sports. I now realize that they have a place….but I still think pro sports has been allowed to occupy a hopelessly skewed monetary importance, which likely will never be reversed. So I haven’t mentioned farming yet, but here it comes. People that excel give us all a little boost. They are the visible reminder that nothing great (or even just good) can ever happen unless you get up, get focused, and get to work. And when things go badly, you take a deep breath, re-focus, get up, and get back to work to try again. Running a farm is not really so different from pitching…if it’s going to work, you have to exert the effort, week in and week out. And I could write another essay on how an excellent pitcher matches an excellent soprano in more ways that one can imagine. The qualities needed to excel remain the same through every endeavor out in the world, and that is something I like to keep in mind. And for now, Timmy still has that unspoilt demeanor, unswayed as of yet by the multimillionaire he is destined to become. He may not stay so wonderful forever. But for now, a day seeing him at the ballpark is still going to be a welcome getaway from 105 degrees in Arbuckle. For my birthday I received the best thing ever…..a number 55 SF Giants official jersey. Opening day is about 2 months away, and this farmer hopes to be there. Go Timmy!

It’s a little after 6pm, and I’ve just come in from the end of something like 4 solid days of pruning trees and shrubs. There are a few little things left to do but mostly it’s done. What fascinated me about the job this year, aside from wondering what I was thinking to own over 70 fruit trees that need intensive pruning, was how I could have been doing this for all these years somewhat incorrectly.

This is clearly the year that the lightbulb came on as to how to properly shape stone fruit trees (plum, peach, apricot, nectarines). Pruning isn’t really that easy, and it is no wonder that homeowners quail at this annual job that everyone says must be done each winter. There is a lot to think about. What kind of tree? Dwarf or standard? Open center system, central leader system, espalier, or something completely different? How old is the tree?,  since that matters too as to technique. Apple versus jujube, plum versus cherry, fig, mulberry, the complexity runs all over the place. At the end of the day, each pruning technique is designed to compliment and keep under control the growing habits of a given kind of fruit. An untended cherry will grow one or two sticks 25 feet into the air unless forced to do otherwise. Apricots and peaches will immediately grow rampantly and guarantee their own demise by ending up in a shape unable to support the weight of the fruit that they are bred to bear, and if no intervention comes along the tree will be a split and diseased ruination in about 3 years. I remember once reading a backyard orchard website….it asked “are you prepared to forego weekends, vacations, and free time in order to properly care for your trees?” That sounded pretty heavy-handed to me….but I see now what they meant. In a way it’s true…trees have specific needs at specific seasons, and if you can’t commit to being available to do what the trees need, when they need it, the vision of luscious cherries or dripping sweet peaches is a pipe dream that will never come to be. We figure we have invested more than $3000on purchases for our orchard, which totals out at more than 120 trees. It is an investment in, and hope for, the future. A $25 stick that arrives in January will, in something like 5 years time and after a lot of care, yield unsurpassed food. When one purchases a fruit tree, the idea of waiting that long for results is a killer….in our society a “long time” is something like a month.  One always has to think, to quote my farming partner, “it isn’t about fruit. It’s about the needs and the health of the tree.” And what is unsaid, is that it is about the distant future, when, if all the right things are done, the best fruit you’ve ever had will be the reward for good work. It is hard to resist, in the beginning, letting the little tree set 30 peaches because you just want to taste them so much! But it’s not the right thing to do. Year one, cut every little branch off until there is nothing but a stick in the ground. Year two, choose the best looking sideshoots to become the future main branches of the tree. Remove any fruit. Year three, strip off almost all fruit deliberately, to promote healthy vegetative growth, while pruning to further strengthen and shape the tree. Year four, maybe let a little bit of fruit set, carefully monitoring that the weight isn’t too much for the structure of the tree. Afterward, monitor and prune annualy to keep a good shape and remove diseased or damaged wood while still making sure again, that there isn’t too much fruit on the tree. I had to laugh this year, because as I was planting the 5 new arrivals we purchased (4 pluots and an aprium–gettin’ fancy!) and stripping all the sideshoots off, I realized that I could do this so easily because “the thrill is gone”. Once the time has elapsed and one actually has a producing trees, it is easy to give the new ones the right care….there is no need to wait with bated breath for the fruit because 20 other trees are doing the job nicely. Of course, we’re lucky, as it would be madness to have this many trees without having customers. It’s probably still madness, but at least it sounds like a good excuse on paper. Our orchard is probably 20%-25% mature at this point in time. When it is fully mature, the yields will be more than I’ll know what to do with. We’re already looking at commerical sized dehydrators in order to be able to maybe handle some of the surplus…ah well, lotsa fruit!

I guess it’s high time to write something new this year! Life seems to move along in predictable rhythyms. Weeds need killing. Trees need pruning. The occasional client hasn’t paid up and needs prodding. I don’t like that last part, and I don’t think anyone in business does. So today, I write about something I have never seen discussed online in a well-rounded manner. Which isn’t to say it isn’t there, but…..you know.  Read more... (1624 words, estimated 6:30 mins reading time)

Lately I’ve been philosophically amazed at how much time one can spend? waste? preparing orders for growing supplies. This commentary is something of an offshoot to the “catalog campaign” that occurs every so often, in which I spend many hours reading descriptions of plants or whathaveyou in order to make a purchase decision. Not so long ago I was on the verge of placing an order for some hundreds of dollars worth of fruit trees with Peaceful Valley Farm Supply in Grass Valley. I like shopping there because I feel good about the idea of supporting a company that caters to organic growers, and I am able to make a two hour drive to pick up my items in person, which saves me shipping charges and gives me a chance to take a scenic drive through some beautiful country. So I called their customer service in order to determine how it would work that I could pick up my order of fruit trees. The representative I spoke with was, I felt, less than nice, and I was informed in rather firm terms that if I wanted the fruit trees, they would have to be shipped to me at a cost of $30 per box because no way no how did they hold orders. That information would have been helpful at the beginning of the process, alas. I was facing needing about 3 or more shipping boxes, so now in addition to my costs for the purchase, I’m looking at another $100 or so in extra and unaccounted for expenses. Maybe not much for some people, but I found this upsetting both in terms of the principle and the lack of flexibility. So after all my research, this order may or may not go through. And I’m certainly not feeling warm fuzzies toward this seller at the moment. Likely I’ll have to pick one or two boxes worth of trees to get from PVGS and take the rest of my business elsewhere, as there are other nurseries that don’t seem to have these kinds of rigid rules. And then I moved on to a search for sweet potatoes. I have never grown them before and would like to try, especially since cooking with them this Thanksgiving reminded me of how delicious and easy to prepare they are. I did a lot of reading and then began looking for suppliers. I found a place in Tennessee that looked amazing….a true mom and pop farm that would sell 500 plants for something like $60…how great is that? But then I started looking for the inevitable…….hard to find……where is it…..NO ORDERS TO CALIFORNIA OR HAWAII. *deep sigh*. Nuts. Living in California can be like being in a compound sometimes, if it’s a good deal and you’d like to grow it, rest assured that there will be some major problem trying to obtain it. Why? Our state’s ever-shifting USDA quarantines that are supposed to keep CA agriculture safe from pests and pathogens that threaten us. Never mind that NAFTA and other economically important import activity pumps invasive species into this state at a rate of which the government has just about lost control. However this time I wanted to know, what was so problematic about sweet potatoes? A little more internet digging revealed that the worry revolved around a colorful insect called the sweet potato weevil, whose larvae make an impressive ruination of the edible part of the plant. This insect doesn’t travel particularly far on its own steam, and there is already apparently an established population of them in San Diego county (seems like poor SD gets visited by just about everything, but I digress). So I abandoned Tennessee and went to search for a California supplier of sweet potato slips. There is one, in Merced. They are very sophisticated and use advanced laboratory techniques to make sure that not so much as a stray virus infects their plants. And they even sell the purple skinned and fleshed kind of sweet potato I’d like to grow. But the cost? 99 cents per slip if ordering less than 500 slips, and 60 cents per slip if ordering 500 or more. Ouch. So now comes the second stage of deep thought. What the hell do I want to do? If I buy 500 plants, that leaves me with a potential yield of 2,500 or more tubers if my growing season is successful. Even if my growing season were to be an abject failure, I have a vivid image of purple tubers overflowing out of my newly finished (I hope) root cellar something like in that film “Son of the Blob”. So I suppose even for the discount, $300 worth of discounted slips is out of the question. I’ll determine some other number, and save California from an insect that is already here. I could point out how easy it would be to have an order from the Tennessee folks sent to southern Oregon, make a four hour drive to pick up the illegal plants, and smuggle them home past the “do you have any fresh fruits or plants on board” joke of an agricultural checkpoint outside Yreka….why are we using taxpayer money to only periodically station folks to ask a question that depends on the honesty and decency of our citizens? Don’t we know better than that by now? Fortunately, I support the concept that my desire to keep costs down is unimportant compared to the potential to cause my state neighbors economic harm, unlike people and industries who don’t care, and bring in god knows what in order to save a buck or a little convenience. Still, all this turned out to be an interesting odyssey of learning about obscure…issues…in the course of simply trying to grow a new kind of crop. And really, the sweet potato project began when I heard about a crop found in the Phillippines called Ubi that I would like to grow. It is similar to, yet botanically distinct from, purple sweet potatoes….but until I can find those, I guess I’ll have to content myself with whatever I can find around these parts.

My generation has been cheated, and I’ll tell you why.  Read more... (464 words, estimated 1:51 mins reading time)

This blog will either fascinate, or be right up there with watching paint dry, because today we write about the seed and tree order. I don’t always spend much time discussing this annual event, but this year it deserves its own place just for having reached such grand proportions.  Read more... (829 words, estimated 3:19 mins reading time)

Yesterday, before the howling winds, I attempted a long day of work at my garden site in Dunnigan. Hoeing weeds, burning weeds, spraying weeds…all that fun stuff. But I also completed round two of my winter squash harvest, and brought in about 15-20 Marina di Chioggia.  Read more... (898 words, estimated 3:36 mins reading time)

I spent today doing my least favorite thing…..combing through account records, double-checking for errors, and sending emails to clients detailing the status of their respective accounts. Oh, joy. Even though I haven’t been exactly running my own business for decades, there are two things that I figured out early on. One, have a business plan.  Read more... (821 words, estimated 3:17 mins reading time)

It’s over 96 degrees outside, there is a ton of work to do….fuhgeddaboutit. It seems like more fun to write about….outdoor cooking!  Read more... (806 words, 1 image, estimated 3:13 mins reading time)