The orchard comes of age

We’ve always been surprised that in spite of the fact that our place was an 1880 homestead, there were no fruit trees. Most of the old homesteads in the area, even ones where the buildings had fallen down decades ago, had old, gnarled apple trees still standing.

So in 2004, Don started our little orchard by planting a Bali cherry tree. The Bali cherry was originally discovered in Alberta, Canada, later propagated by Saint Lawrence Nursery in upstate New York and named for the nursery’s daughter, Bali. Bali’s are hardy to 50 below and their fruit buds are hardy to 40 below so we thought it would be the perfect cherry tree for our location at 8000’ elevation. While our temperatures rarely reach those lows, we do suffer through cold, dry conditions so it was still a guess if Bali would survive and produce fruit here.  But survive and produce she has starting in her second year. Each year, if we outsmart the birds and raccoons, we get a nice crop which we freeze and enjoy all winter.

After some research, Don identified the best apple tree prospects for our location and added three varieties – Sweet Sixteen, State Fair, and Haralred – later in 2004. While the trees grew well, they rarely produced blossoms  much less fruit. We read everything we could get our hands on about apple trees, asked everyone we could think of to try and figure out what might be the problem. We added supplements, watered religiously, talked to them, wassailed them in January – anything but still no luck. We had about resigned ourselves to the realization that our location just was out of the range of apples when this spring all three trees burst into full bloom in early May. As is often the case here, we were promptly hit with a week of evening temperatures dropping below freezing including a couple of nights down to 28 degrees. We held our breath and hoped that the blossoms would survive even though all the books said that would wipe out 80 – 90% of the fruit production for that year. Miraculously the apples are bearing fruit and in fact the most fruit we have ever had. 

This year Don began a much more intense care of the fruit trees following the guidance of Michael Phillips’ newest book, The Holistic Orchard: Tree Fruits and Berries the Biological Way. As the book title implies, the approach is holistic and takes into account all the aspects of growth and production. It reminds the orchardist that trees prefer to grow on the forest edge, in close proximity to over-story and under-story species, and nurtured by soil that is teeming with life and provides all the nutrients necessary for survival.

Don’s program includes bi-weekly foliar spraying with various concoctions of kelp, neem, and teas brewed with comfrey, horsetail, garlic, and chamomile depending on the time of the season.  To enrich the soils he surrounds each tree twice per season with a thick layer of compost and deciduous wood chips which feed the soil organisms and in turn helps the tree roots to take-up nutrients from the soil. Rather than an organized orchard, ours looks more like a wildland area with other plants incorporated throughout that benefit the fruit trees by attracting beneficial insects and bringing up deep nutrients to the surface where the fruit tree roots can reach them.

It’s hard to say whether the warmer winter allowed the fruit trees to progress to production or whether Don’s extra care is making the difference or maybe a combination of both. Whatever the case, the orchard has finally come of age. In more moderate climates this probably would have happened years ago but at 8000 foot elevation, it took 8 years.

We still face many challenges with our orchard from weather to the “locals” – birds, raccoons, deer, bears and more. Already this year the raccoons got to the last of the cherries before we did and we will have to alter our fencing design to thwart them in the future. We’ll work on the plan this winter as we enjoy cherry crisps from our frozen stash and warm, cooked apples for breakfast. 

From Fleur Creek Farm

It was time to say goodbye

We knew this day was coming. Her arthritic knees were making it difficult for Mandy, our remaining horse, to get around comfortably. As each month passed she was spending more time in the barn and less time out grazing. She was no longer able to lay down to rest.

A year ago April, Mandy lost her three equine family members. At the time, I asked her to stay – my grief was too great to endure another loss then. We promised ourselves and Mandy that we would watch her carefully and when the time came, we would let her go. 

Three weeks ago, we knew it was time to say goodbye. I have always felt it is our responsibility to care for the animals we bring into our lives from the beginning through the end. Animals can not look past pain and suffering – that is only a human trait. It is our duty to make sure they do not have to endure too much of that.

We spent the morning with Mandy, brushing her and telling how much she meant to us. I told her that her brothers and father were waiting for her. Then I made a most difficult call to a compassionate friend who came quickly. Later that afternoon, a wonderful neighbor came by and buried her in the graveyard with the rest of our cherished horses. 

This loss is the most difficult one yet. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her. The barn and pasture seem so empty without horses. Horses have been a continuous part of my life for nearly fifty years but I can tell that it is time to move on. I don’t plan on getting any more.  We are slowing working our way through our horse supplies and equipment. This is so much like going through the closet of a deceased family member. Some items we are giving to others, some we are selling. 

I am at peace with our decision. Mandy has escaped the constraints of her aging body and has reunited with her family members – probably at a full gallop. Thank you Mandy for remaining behind for a little while for us. 

From Fleur Creek Farm

Simple pleasures on the Homestead

It's been snowing since yesterday morning, blanketing the earth with a beautiful layer of snow. After some decent storms in early October and late November, our winter has turned balmy. I am relieved to see this snow and hope for much more.

Winter in the high country limits our time outside so we focus on some simple indoor pleasures. I skipped the "coffee thing" for my first five decades but my sister got me hooked recently and now I enjoy lattes. Initially we made a little pot of coffee with our Mr. Coffee, added some almond milk and called it latte. But it just wasn't the same as the ones she produced on her microwave-sized espresso machine so we started searching for a simple espresso maker. After spending the last few years replacing all our aluminum cookware we weren't about to brew acidic espresso in one made of aluminum so we narrowed our search to a stainless steel version.

Thanks to the internet we found Kontessa, a darling 4 shot stovetop espresso maker from Italy. A couple of times a week, we fire up Kontessa on the top of our wood cookstove and enjoy a cup. To make the moment even more special, my sister sent us two handmade espresso cups from the Folk Art Museum in Santa Fe. With a little warmed almond milk and a quick whiz in the Vita-Mix and we have achieved near perfection - at least the homestead version.

After a new snow, I love to head out on snowshoes to see what animals are around. After the last snow, we found the tracks of a mountain lion in our wetlands and crossing the road just west of our barn. The lion passed by an area where several elk had bedded down. I can hardly wait to get out tomorrow and see who has been out and about.





From Fleur Creek Farm

Winter Solstice

Since the windstorm of November, I have had this sense that, as stewards of this special place, we needed to find a way to begin the healing process. The evil force of the winds that had so ravaged the forests needed to be banished. I struggled for awhile trying to understand how to do this. Then, several weeks ago, it came to me - a healing ceremony on the Winter Solstice. To cultures around the world, this is a special moment and it would be for us too.

Over the last week we have selected and prepared the spot and collected the items we would need. We found the perfect rock to use as an altar, one that a bear had turned over several months ago searching for grubs underneath. On Sunday, following the trail left in the snow by a large herd of elk, we collected small pieces of all the trees and shrubs so affected by the winds. We moved from pine, spruce, fir and juniper to cottonwood, alder, birch, chokecherry and gooseberry, taking a piece from the broken bodies lying on the ground. From these pieces we prepared a bundle tied with string.

On Wednesday night, the night of the Solstice, we returned to the ceremonial spot. Using blue, yellow and white corn meal, and red chili powder, we marked the earthly directions then laid the bundle in the center. Over it we crossed the shed antlers of a deer and an elk. With just the sound of the creek flowing by we thought about what had been lost but also what would be renewed.

For us in the northern hemisphere, the Winter Solstice marks the longest night and the shortest day of the year. It also represents the point when we begin our journey back to the light. At this moment, on this spot, resting on an altar picked by a bear, with pieces of plants selected by the elk, the journey has begun.

From Fleur Creek Farm

An Evil Wind

The Wet Mountain Valley is known for its powerful winds that explode over the Sangres and swoop down the eastern slopes, but what happened on Saturday night, the 12th of November, was more than anyone had ever experienced. The day started with persistent winds as the jet stream edged into the area and those winds increased in the twilight hours. By midnight the sounds of the wind were horrific and the earth trembled as huge trees crashed to the ground. We were plunged into darkness when the power went out shortly after midnight and only the waning full moon gave a glimpse of the destruction.

The scene at daybreak was unreal. Massive cottonwood trees surrounding the house and cabin were snapped off or uprooted, laying like matchsticks everywhere. Eighty foot spruce trees lining the creek were ripped from the ground, their huge root balls now standing perpendicular to the earth.

We dressed quickly and hurried to the barn to check on the horses and the situation there. Mandy and Cal were standing out in the pasture away from the buildings. They were nervous but quickly settled down as we passed out breakfast. Several large cottonwoods had fallen around the barn, crushing parts of the corral and one in particular blocked the horse's access to their water tank. That became our top priority of the day and with the help of our neighbors we chainsawed and cleared the mess away from the tank. Once that task was completed we spent the rest of the day helping others clear driveways and roads so that they could get in and out of their places.

Amazingly our house, cabin, sheds and barn were spared any serious damage though access to our front door required climbing over and under the broken trees. As we surveyed the forest destruction, we hardly knew where to start. We realized that the cleanup would not be a quick job but in reality would take months, even years. In fact some areas will never be restored. Mother Nature will have to reclaim those places in her own way.

We have hired several local young men to help us. They bring an energy and strength that we no longer possess. By picking small areas to concentrate on, we have started to bring order to a chaotic scene. Large trees have been blocked for future firewood, brush has been cleared and chipped. We will slowly expand as we make our way up and down the creek. Next year we will start on the pine forest area on the west side of the place.

I have heard various versions of the strength of the winds but the sheriff's office reported that the wind storm included sustained winds of 100mph for four hours, 112mph for 20 minutes and gusts to 135mph. Some private wind meters near Hillside at the north of the valley and another farther south reported 170 and 172 mph respectively before they were blown apart. Insurance adjusters who arrived on the scene in the days after the storm said they had not seen this level of wind damage from Katrina - a category 4 hurricane.

Some have called this a force of nature but it seems much more than that. To me it seems like an evil force that assaulted all of us residing here. On our place alone there are probably one hundred trees down. Magnificent cottonwoods and spruces and pines that have withstood so much over the last eighty to one hundred years were snapped like twigs. Trees with trunks thirty inches in diameter were splintered and thrown to the ground. There are places where forty foot ponderosa pine trees are laid flat like dominoes, one after another with their root balls ripped from the earth.

My hope is that we can find a way to heal this special place; to bring comfort and love back to a place that has given us so much. It will be the task that consumes the rest of my time here.

From Fleur Creek Farm

The healing begins

There is no question that 2011 has been one of the more difficult years for us. It started with a serious lack of snow which progressed to an outright drought. In April we laid to rest three of our four beloved horses and felt a great loss to our family from their passing. In June a forest fire caused by an illegal campfire and drought conditions forced us from our home for a week and kept us on evacuation alert for another 10 days after we were allowed to return.

I am sure that anyone who has been through a trauma finds it hard to get back on track afterwards. That was certainly the case for us. July came and went and we just seemed to be going through the motions but not really getting back into our groove.

Then in August our neighbors and the owners of Trails End Ranch decided the neighborhood and other local friends needed a party so they threw a great barbeque and concert for all of us. Paul said it had been on his bucket list for years and this was the year to do it. More than a hundred folks enjoyed a wonderful evening and a great private concert by country music legend Charlie Pride and his band. To say it was amazing doesn’t go far enough. As I told Paul later in the evening, it was the medicine we needed. Our energy and focus have returned – we are moving forward again.

After staring at the results of the fire from our perspective for more than two months, last Saturday we decided it was time to take a closer look. We headed up to the last campground and trailhead winding through pockets of completely charred forest and other areas where only the vegetation on the ground was burned. Some pines were scorched on one side, others were reduced to blackened skeletons.

At the trailhead we ran into our local Forest Service ranger, Jeff. We spent over an hour talking with Jeff and learning about the varying effects of the fire and the ongoing restoration efforts. In these two short months since the fire, mother nature has already started her restoration work with new growth everywhere. The fire’s release of nutrients and the increase in sunlight in areas that were once shaded by pines has caused a burst of growth resulting in three foot tall aspen shoots with the biggest aspen leaves I have ever seen. In areas of heavy scrub oak thickets the fire either ran on the ground leaving the tops un-touched or completely burned the thicket and left a charred landscape. Even the areas burned the worst were already showing new growth with oak shoots over a foot tall and grasses and forbs popping up.

Depending on the weather conditions of the day, the fire skipped around and left some areas completely un-burned creating what the forest biologists call a mosaic. As the recovery continues in years to come, this mosaic will produce a vibrant forest of varying ages that is much healthier than what was there before the fire.

Jeff also described the human restoration efforts that had been underway even before the fire was contained and would continue this week. Fire lines that had been bull-dozed in an effort to manage the fire were being re-worked and in many cases closed to prevent future motorized use, grass and forb seeding was ongoing to help reduce erosion, new trail signage was up to replace what had burned, and hikers and campers were already using the area.

After four months of living alone, Mandy, our 26 year old mare has a new companion. Cal arrived on Monday, a loan from a wonderful neighbor who wanted to help out. Cal is a 36 year old gelding who has seen it all, spending 30 years on a dude ranch near Durango before his well deserved retirement. He is a kind, gentle horse who immediately palled up with Mandy. They have been inseparable since he arrived. Cal has brought so much comfort and contentment to all of us.

And so the healing has begun – to our psyche, to the forest, and to Mandy’s enjoyment of life.

From Fleur Creek Farm

Six Million Dollar Campfire

Sunday, June 12th, started like most other Sundays with a more leisurely breakfast than our normal weekday ones as we discussed our plans for the day. Afterwards, I headed out for a morning of noxious weed work while Don spent some time in the orchard watering, fertilizing and mowing the grass. After lunch we worked around the house in the gardens and enjoyed a little time on the back porch with tea. Around 3:30 in the afternoon the phone rang with a recorded message from the Sheriff’s office that a fire had started in the Duckett Creek area about 3 miles northwest of our place. Due to the very dry conditions and strong winds, the fire was spreading quickly and the call advised us we were under an evacuation alert. We might have to evacuate with no more than 2 hours notice.

Due to the terrain and forest, we couldn’t initially see the fire so we headed down the road for a better view. The smoke was already rising into the sky and the fire was leaping from one tree to another (known as “crowning” in forest fire language). And the dry winds were blowing hard. We hadn’t had any lightning so speculation ran high that the fire was human caused. The Duckett Creek area is on National Forest Service land and in the vicinity of heavily used campgrounds.

Back at home we started thinking about what we might need to do if we had to evacuate. Most importantly we needed to plan how to get our animals out and what we would need if we were away from home for a while. We started gathering up pet carriers and supplies, rounded up feed and care supplies for Mandy, our 26 year old mare, and started organizing clothes and food for ourselves. Eighteen years ago a fire started in the same area but only consumed 500 acres before the weather conditions and fire fighters gained the upper hand and contained it. We figured the same would happen again. Before dark we drove over closer to the fire to get a better sense of what was going on and felt comfortable that it was not spreading too rapidly and was doing what most fires do in the evening – “laying down” for the night due to increased humidity and decreased winds.

Monday morning started back with strong winds and dry conditions and the fire ramped up as the day went along. A friend who lives about 3 miles away emailed that he was leaving for Argentina for a month and we were welcome at his ranch if we needed to evacuate. Even though I didn’t think it would be necessary it was reassuring to know that we had a place to go if necessary. We spent the day removing artwork from the walls, wrapping the paintings up in blankets and started loading one of our trucks with our treasured and important possessions. We continued to evaluate what else we might need and kept an eye on the growing fire.

I had a much more un-settling feeling on Tuesday. The smoke from the fire was laying heavily over the entire valley and new areas of the forest were exploding into flames. The winds were so erratic that the fire was spreading in every direction. The fire was upgraded to a Type II and 400 fire fighters were on the scene. Each of the three helicopters were dropping 600 gallons of water per run on major fire spots and 2 slurry bombers were laying down fire retardant along fire lines and ridges in an effort to contain the northern and southern boundaries of the fire. The southern boundary had advanced to within a mile of our place. At 4:30 Tuesday afternoon the fire over ran the southern containment line. We were at the barn taking care of our mare when our neighbor drove up and told us we were now under evacuation orders – it was time to get out. While we were hitching up our horse trailer, the owner of the heifers that graze on our pasture for the summer arrived with his trailer to evacuate his cattle. Suddenly the helicopters were flying directly over the barn at tree-top level, fire trucks were racing up the county road past our place and embers and charred leaves were landing in the grass around the barn. Our poor mare was so un-nerved by the chaos that she refused to get in the horse trailer. We made the quick decision that Don needed to walk her out to safety while I drove the truck and trailer out.

I left the big truck and trailer on the county road at the top of our house driveway and ran down the drive to the house to get the other truck. I needed to figure out how to get our kitties and the rest of our gear plus two trucks and the trailer out by myself. I realized there was a group of firefighters down the road about 3/4 of a mile so I drove the small truck down there and borrowed a fire fighter. Jessie came back up with me. I loaded kitties in their carriers and started moving everything out to the front porch. Jessie loaded all the kitties and gear while I closed down our two laptop computers and put them in the carrying cases. Since this is way we make our living, the computers needed to go too. In 10 minutes Jessie and I had everything loaded up and we headed out. It was a sickening sight in the rear view mirror to see the smoke and flames approaching.

In the meantime, Don and Mandy (our mare), made it 1 3/4 miles to a neighboring ranch corrals that seemed safe for the evening. I caught up with Don as he was getting a ride back. We headed over to our friend’s ranch to get the kitties settled in, then back to Mandy’s corral to make sure she was comfortable with food and water for the evening. We finally got something to eat around 10PM thanks to the Bonnie, the ranch manager and general super-nice person.

Wednesday was an antagonizing day as the winds continued and the fire advanced in all directions. The fire fighting crew was up to 600 people and the air assault continued from dawn to dusk. I tried to distract myself by getting our computers back up and running, using the wireless internet system at the ranch house. At least we could get back to work. Mid-morning we talked the local deputy manning the road block leading to our area to allow us to return for more items from the house and barn. We were escorted by a fire crew who spent the 15 minutes it took us to gather up what we needed, by clearing debris from around our house, sheds and old cabin.

Thursday’s winds from the southwest pushed the fire to the north, away from us and gave the fire fighters a chance to re-enforce the southern boundary. Another couple and their two large dogs arrived at the ranch house – evacuated from the northern end of the fire. Smoke continued to blanket the valley.

On Friday it seemed as though the tide was turning in our favor. The air and ground assault of the fire was working and the winds were moderating. Most of the fire growth was at the northern fire boundary. It was the first day I started to feel as though our home and place might survive.

After two weeks of “Red Flag Warnings” issued by the National Weather Service, the weekend weather conditions improved dramatically as the winds decreased and the humidity levels increased. It was so encouraging to see moisture on the windshields Saturday morning. It even snowed lightly on the high peaks Saturday night, though the snow did not reach down to the fire.

Sunday evening we received the news we had hoped for – we could return home Monday morning. We would remain on evacuation alert as the fire was only 65% contained but we could go home.

The following weekend, the hot dry winds returned and the fire grew on several fronts. Monday morning we received another recorded call from the sheriff’s office – dangerous fire conditions were occurring again and we needed to prepare to evacuate. We remained on evacuation alert, though home, for another week before the fire fighters aided by the weather, again gained control of the fire.

Even now, six weeks after it started, the fire is only 80% contained. The rugged terrain and high elevation on the western boundary makes it impossible to put it out completely. Not until we receive significant monsoonal rains or winter snow, will the fire end. For now, a small fire crew remains on site working on hot spots and starting the long process of rehabilitation.

Investigators have discovered that the fire began from an illegal campfire started and left on Forest Service land. At the time (and it continues today) we are under strict fire restrictions – no open fires, yet some self-centered person thought that didn’t apply to them. Not only did the restrictions not apply to them but they couldn’t be bothered to put out the fire when they were done with it. Instead they left a burning campfire in a tinder-dry forest that resulted in a 5000 acre fire that threatened 200 homes, burned hundreds of acres of privately-owned forest lands, displaced many people and to date, has cost nearly $6 million dollars to fight.

But as we look back on these past six weeks, we are reminded of how wonderful our little community truly is. So many people called us in the days leading up to our evacuation to check on us and to offer help. Friends rushed to hug us after we evacuated when they learned we were OK. And of course the wonderful friends who offered their home to us and our kitties – there are no words to describe our appreciation.

Since we moved to this place more than 10 years ago, I have always felt safe and protected. The fire changed that. I now realize that we can be threatened by circumstances outside of our control and that no place will ever be completely safe. But I still gain comfort from being here and in this community and that counts for a lot.

From Fleur Creek Farm