Bella

So this is our third year to grow watermelons and a myriad of other shapes, sizes, varieties, and flavors of melons. I love melons! And at the immense risk of sounding like I've got an ego the size of one, I'm going to say that we grow amazing watermelons. Really though, we can't take all the credit - it's just a great combination of our cool nights contrasted by sunny hot days, good choices of seed varieties, careful veganic organic growing practices, and most of all the blessing of God. Back to the melons. To put it in Chuck's words - he's the produce manager at AJs in Scottsdale - he says we grow “dynamite melons."

This year we have encountered a new challenge to our quest of getting our "dynamite" melons onto people's tables - coyotes. They love the thrill of eating fresh juicy watermelons on a moonlight night. Truth be told, they eat them whether the moon is out or not. It seems that just as fast as they ripen, the coyotes eat them.

This season, knowing we were starting our FarmBox program, we intentionally planted small succession plantings of “Little Baby Flower” watermelons. They are bursting with intense watermelon flavor and are just the right size for FarmBoxes. And boy oh boy, do the coyotes ever love them! And better yet, they love it that we have planned a steady supply for them all summer long. Sigh.

Recently it dawned on us that perhaps our issue is that late last summer Andy, our beloved Redbone Coonhound of many years and Cheetah, Grandpa and Grandma’s Great Pyrenese, both died. Perhaps the absence of big dogs on the farm was creating an open invitation to our Coyote Watermelon Bar. So we decided that perhaps we needed to find another big dog to join the farm. Aimee spent an entire afternoon in Tucson visiting with dozens of eager dogs at the Pima Animal Shelter. Bit by bit she narrowed her choices down till finally she settled on Bella.

Bella really caught Aimee’s attention because she seemed to be exceptionally intelligent and observant. In addition she had remarkable people skills, and good manners with the other dogs. Only Bella knows her full story and why she was there, but the sketchy information that the shelter was able to provide is that she is a 9 month old German Shepherd that a friend of the owner had dropped off. So we adopted Bella. Right from the start, Bella seemed to be immensely grateful to have been chosen to be a member of the family. She is poised, beautiful, loving, and obedient and has been trying very diligently to learn all the family rules and we already love her.

There is only one ironic flaw to our happily ever after story. Last Friday morning Bella came out with Byron and me to the watermelon patch to survey the night’s Coyote damage. Imagine our surprise when she started eagerly gobbling up the remains of partially eaten watermelons. That was a little disconcerting. Then picture our shocked dismay, when she moved over and selected a nice melon still growing on the vine and proceeded to start to nibble on it! Thankfully, “Bella, no!” was all Byron had to say and she happily went back to the half eaten ones. I stood there, my jaw hanging down while Byron broke out in gut busting laughter. I should have known that would be Byron’s response to this latest turn in our quest to save the melons. If there is one thing I love about him, it is his ability to think the best of every person and every situation. “Well,” he said after his laughter subsided, “She may not save the melons but we sure do have a swell new pet out of the deal.”

The question remains, “Will Bella do her job and keep our melon patch safe from the coyotes?” We don’t know yet. But like my husband, I think that for now, I better choose to think the best of this ironic situation and of our delightful new family member, Bella.



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Location:E Gaskill Rd,Willcox,United States

The Harvest

This week we acquired a new farmhand. I'm going to call him Hank. I'm actually not sure if he CHOSE to come here or was sent by well meaning family. There are lots of good reasons to send a seventeen year old city kid to the farm. I started noticing them pretty quickly. We were out in the squash patch harvesting acorn squash and a brewing late afternoon thunderstorm was fueling my box filling pace. I quickly became aware that I was filling two boxes for every one box that my lanky teenage harvest partner was filling. Now I'd like to be able to say with a swagger that at age fifty one I can outdo a strapping seventeen year old in the squash patch. But I'll just be straight up and say that in reality he was just greener than green. I don't even think that he noticed the glowering clouds much less put clouds and thunder together to equal storm arriving soon. I tried to help him understand the concept but instead of translating into increased speed it only provided him with fascinating conversation material.

Each time Aimee came roaring down the row in the muddy green Gator to pick up another load of bulging bushel boxes he found new excuses for diversion. "Hey Aimee, maybe I should ride back to the warehouse with you to help unload the boxes". "Hey Aimee if you're tired of driving I can drive for you"

Suddenly on one of her fly bys, she dropped off Jonathan. He hit the ground running - literally. As I watched him fill up boxes on the run, take flying leaps over the rows to rescue left behind squash, and dive under the leaves as he flew by to sleuth out elusive squash I was amazed. And suddenly my mind shifted gears and backed up 10 months to the day Jonathan had arrived.

He showed up with smooth white hands, perfect fingernails, a pale face, and an insatiable appetite for socializing and laughter. I couldn't for anything figure out how he could make it on a farm. Back then, the mere thought of him becoming invaluable would've made my eyes roll. It seemed like every job I gave him took way longer than I thought it should. It seemed like his mouth moved faster than his four limbs combined. He got depressed if he had to do solitary tasks and when he was doing groupy tasks his hands usually stopped so that his mouth could function at top speed. He'd easily kill baby plants by forgetting to water them or absently overwatering them and he regularly did tasks opposite to the instructions just because he forgot or got distracted. A farming career for him seemed like a guaranteed crop failure.

So now as I hurried to catch up to him enough to at least breathe in some of the dust in the wake of his efficient productivity, I began to ponder. Why did he seem like a such a natural leader as he hurried us along by his example and his energetic comments? Clearly today he is invaluable to our farm. What had suddenly happened? Or was it sudden?

Farming changes you. While tough callouses form on your hands they melt off your spirit making you see miracles in baby lettuce plants and awakening in your heart a deep seated longing to cooperate with the Creator in this process called growing - growing good food for people - real people.

As the sun gradually gives your skin that ruddy look that city slickers call a farmer's tan your instincts get ripened and deepened to pay attention to subtle things that city slickers don't even notice like the difference between a melon aphid and a potato aphid.

While you learn the art of painstakingly raking a raised growing bed smooth you unlearn expectations for instant results.
And just as the germinating seed teaches you patience the seemingly suddenly ripe crop of orange honeydew - that everyone is waiting for - on a day that was already full to the brim with harvesting and planting, weeding and watering - pushes you beyond what you thought were your physical limits to get it harvested at its peak and sent out to the people who are counting on you for food - real food.

The longer you farm and the more mis-steps you experience the more indelible becomes the urgency of timing. There's a right time to seed, to water, to weed, to harvest, and just as imporant is the time to deliver. The sense of urgency at each stage seers itself into a farmer's instincts making him count his steps and minutes as if they were gold. And gold they truly are. The wisest man who ever lived said that, "The king himself is served by the field" Ecc 5:9

As I pondered I realized that while Jonathan thought he was just planting, weeding, watering, tending, and harvesting crops those very crops were working a slow but steady transformation of him. An abundant harvest was happening. His fields were serving him.

Suddenly my thoughts were yanked back to the present. Hank was actually running! We were done and as he loped by me and plunked himself down on the tail of the Gator so he could catch a ride home - he waved his arms around regaling us with his tales of the afternoon. His beaming ear to ear grin reminded me that another harvest will be coming; just be patient.



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Of Farmers and Chefs...

On the first Friday of April four of Phoenix's best chefs hung out with us in our kitchen swapping tales over bright red and orange tomatoes, crispy cucumbers, colorful peppers, petite heirloom lettuce, and homemade sprouted kamut bread. It would’ve been clear to any of the local bugs and critters that we weren't making any pretentions of elegance – in fact since we’d just harvested the veggies and all come home together after our windy late morning hike around the farm I handed them my not so professional knives and just like regular farm hands they pitched in and washed and prepared the veggies for our “build your own” open faced sandwiches while I set out the strawberry smoothies and other sandwich fixings.

Last Sunday evening I gazed at my very most favorite (and only) husband as he settled into the expansive leather armchair across from me in the Talovera at the Four Seasons Scottsdale. Suddenly I had the sense that this romantic anniversary dinner was about to astound me with an array of contrasts to the simple farm fare we enjoyed the last time we had shared a meal with Chef Jesse Hansen.


The spicy but not too spicy grilled salsa handcrafted with our Sunizona tomatoes and served with crisp local Arizona tortilla chips was the first taste sensation of the evening.


When Andre brought us glasses of cucumber infused tomato water, my skeptical nature wondered how THAT combination would work. But the crisp sparkling flavor immediately won my confidence and convinced me that I had to figure out how to replicate it back at the farm! Thankfully on one of Jesses’ frequent trips to our table to visit with us and regale us with the innovative methods he uses to create his food masterpieces he shared the secret.

We farmers are noted for our self sufficiency but Susan and Andre’s disarming friendliness and careful attention to serving us with amazing finesse and style, deftly wiping up even the slightest condensation from our water goblets, and noting exactly when we finished one course and needed empty dishes removed or goblets refilled was enough to make even the stoutest of us melt and be pampered. And we did just that.



The dinner reminded me of attending a great concert. The courses and dishes created from fresh nutrient rich vegetables grown on our farm and other local farms followed one another in succession to our table - their beauty and elegant simplicity always equalling or outdoing the previous rendition and delighting our eyes and tastebuds alike.


Watching Jesse's face light up as he spoke about sourcing fresh local ingredients and the artistic techniques he uses to skillfully harmonize them into his culinary creations reminded me so much of the passion I see in my husband when he talks about growing and plants and teaching young people how to farm.

For desert - peach pie - we moved out onto the patio and as we enjoyed the approaching thunderstorm and the musky scent of the creosote bushes heavy in the air, I realized again the brilliance of local farmers and chefs teaming up to make it possible for people like us to enjoy unforgetable romantic evening dinners.

Thanks Jesse and team for an evening to remember!


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