“When asked if I am pessimistic or optimistic about the future, my answer is always the same: if you look at the science about what is happening on earth and aren’t pessimistic, you don’t understand the data. But if you meet the people who are working to restore this earth and the lives of the poor, and you aren’t optimistic, you haven’t got a pulse.”
― Martin Keogh, Hope Beneath Our Feet: Restoring Our Place in the Natural World
Yesterday at our farm we marked the end of an era.
When we bought this place there was an old overgrown orchard on the hill up behind the house. When we’d asked the previous owner what kind of trees they were he’d been offhand. Oranges, he said. Just old oranges. They cropped every year, he told us, and he let the fruit bats get most of them. How many oranges can you eat, he said, shrugging his shoulders.
We’re an organic farm. We don’t use chemicals. So by hand and by machine we cleared out all the privet and camphor, the lantana and other weeds, and were left with a host of ancient citrus trees. They were huge, some of them spindly and weak, and all of them in various stages of declining health after decades of neglect.
That first winter we were amazed. The trees fruited and we harvested a range of different oranges, blood oranges, tangerines, several kinds of mandarin (clementine), grapefruits and lemons. Most of the varieties were so old that they were not able to be readily identified by the commercial horticulturalist at the nursery up the road.
We pruned and fed and watered, and waited to see what might happen. Some of the elderly ladies at my CWA group remembered the orchard from their childhoods, when it had been a flourishing commercial affair that supplemented the dairy which used to be our farm. The orchard had been planted in the nineteen-thirties, and had remained in commercial operation until the late sixties.
It was exciting to think that the trees might still be viable. We hoped that we might be able to include them as part of our own organic farm produce plan. In Barcelona we’d seen trees that were well over one hundred and fifty years old and still in full production.
So we tried.
For five years.
And then yesterday we brought the excavator in and pulled almost all of them out.
Why? The trees are disease-free, but most of them aren’t thriving. A few trees stand out, and produce bountiful, healthy fruit. But six out of sixty? Something wasn’t adding up. Some of our neighbours have had similar issues with their own tree crops so a few of us sent some samples off for testing to find out why our plants aren’t doing what they should, given the treatment we’ve been lavishing upon them.
It turns out our poor old citrus trees have suffered major damage from UV. The UV (ultra violet) radiation levels in Australia have increased dramatically in recent years, and the world is a much warmer place than when these trees were first planted. The winters in our region have become shorter, and less cold. Overall our seasons are more erratic. Effectively our environment is no longer conducive to the ongoing health of the fruit trees. The six old trees that are thriving? They all receive shade for a good portion of the day.
Global warming is something we can’t ignore. It’s happening right here, right now. It’s the talk of our neighbourhood, and of farming communities everywhere.
So, what are we going to do? Our farm still has good soil, and reliable water. For now, anyway. We’ve decided to plant rows of lilly pilly (a bush tucker food with tart-sweet berries) for shade and wind breaks, and within the protection of those rows we’ll plant a variety of native bush-foods, and heritage (old varieties!) orchard trees which are more heat, drought and sun tolerant. That way we can protect bio-diversity and stay true to our personal philosophy of farming and living gently on the earth.
Our farm already produces plenty of bunya nuts – another fine bush tucker food. At first we’d harvested them for our own use, but now we sell the nuts to local restaurants and to a bush foods co-op which distribute them throughout Australia and overseas. A mix of Australian natives and conventional food crops for our farm seems a grand idea.
We need to be adaptive to our changing environment, rather than continuing to struggle with old ways that no longer work with these new conditions.
I felt sad to watch the demise of the old citrus trees, but there is no use trying to persevere with something that can’t adapt and thrive. Better to pull them out and plant food trees that are better suited to our changed conditions. Better for us as farmers to be thinking about this warming planet, and what we can do to sustain food availability and quality.
It’s a good lesson for life too, don’t you think?
If you’ve tried, and tried, and something’s just not working, maybe it’s time to walk away and begin something new with a better chance of success.
18 thoughts on “Adapting to Change”
This post sang out to me in so many ways. Thank you Nicole xx
Our ancesters adapted to the ice ages and even survived the relatively sudden arrival of the current interglacial. Adaption is a strength of mankind. But this is different. This time the climate doesn’t change due to variability in the sun, the Earth’s path and axis, vulcanoes or other geological changes. It responds to us, and more rapid than any other previously known natural climate change, with one or two possible exceptions. How will we respond to this climate change? In a way that mitigate the changes or in manners that will even make things worse? Your post is indicative of one of the biggest problems, even if these trees were perhaps mostly of nostalgic value for you. When climate (and other environmental factors such as the UV,pollutants etc.) change too fast our knowledge of what crop that work in each region just a generation ago becomes obsolete. At the same time as we, mankind, gets even more and more mouths to feed.
‘Adapt and thrive’ jumped off the screen at me. Not just for the orange trees and all of nature, but for all sentient Beings on Earth at this time…Blessings xo
Sad but true you have to make a decision one way or another.
My Mum always wanted to see oranges and lemons on trees , obviously living in G.B you’ve got no chance . So I took photos of oranges on trees in Spain that made her smile …I bought a lemon back from Italy and I could have bought her the Queen’s jewels .
She never got to see Oranges on trees… to travel abroad, to her, was like going to the moon …bless.
you have taken a wonderful perspective. at least you have the 6 trees that are healthy and productive. that’s a real blessing! the weather is changing all over. it’s winter here in oregon and i’ve been running out in shorts every other day to work in the yard. one day it’s very cold and then the next day it’s 70 and sunny. i am thinking that i can start some crops earlier this year and am readying the greenhouse for some tender greens. it’s very very early for that sort of thing normally in this locale, but i am going to give it a go! best of luck with your crops!
“living gently on the earth”…… I love the sound of that! 🙂
Yes sometimes you have to scrap it all and start again, it’s the only way
That Martin Keough quote is one of my favourites. I wonder if the same thing had happened to our old mandarin tree – similar vintage to yours I suspect. Our much younger navels have also really struggled to adjust to weird seasons – fruiting all over the place and generally freaking out.
Going Biodynamic offers even better protection against our extreme elements, since it extends more into the energetic properties of balancing our environment – http://biodynamics.net.au/about-biodynamics/what-is-biodynamics/
Same with our orange trees alas.
Nice post – thanks Nicole
Thank you for sharing your post. It is valuable. Like you said, sometime we need to move on.
This story reminds me of a little book a friend gave to us when we were faced with a similar dilemma. It is called Who Moved My Cheese. A wonderful little story about adaptation.
Here’s to new beginnings 🙂 XO
I just had an intuition from one of my friends in “High Places”. I thought that you might wish to give it a look. Persimmons.
Throw some love into the wind.
wow. wonderful what you are doing! we have an accidental orchard also. pomegranates! 100’s of them and they produce with no action on our part. When we bought the place, someone had chopped them all down, so more grew back to our suprise and delight!