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Best Bets: Reserve a Revolutionary War Adventure for the Spring! |
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| February 28, 2006 4:56 PM | |||
It's
hard to believe, but some people hate Riley's Farm. One of our
biggest Oak Glen detractors has been working on
her website, (right, below), and that's something I really applaud.
Web sites are a great way to get people ready for the glen before they
arrive, so now I take this time to shout it out magnanimously
 across
the hills, in a north-westerly fashion,
"Hurrah, fellow business person who doesn't like us!
Yes, even the people who don't
like us, use pictures of our apple orchard to promote their business, and
that's just, America. |
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| February 27, 2006 3:10 PM | |||
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I walked past the ponds, this
afternoon, up and into the Granny Smith orchard, past the blackberries and
into the raspberry patch, where Mario was splitting up the old berry root
stock and creating another acre of fresh starts.
The dirt was turned up everywhere, all deep brown and drawn into ranks,
and the hillside above me painted the best picture I've seen yet of the
new apple orchard. In each terrace, right up the side of
the hill towards the black oaks, there was a little chocolate diamond of
fresh dirt, crowned with a neat white tree collar, and a baby tree in each
spot. The air was cold and wet and full of
promise. I could feel the summer in it, the
promise of raspberry soda and sweet corn, right through the mounting rain.
I could see all the kids with a bucket in one hand and raspberry
face paint measuring their years--and I thought: Can I
take a picture of this? Will it digitize? No. Cameras can only do so much. Besides, the battery is dead. |
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| February 26, 2006 8:05 AM | |||
 Mario
attached the plow to the old John Deere (1951), yesterday and started in
on the flower field. Scott told a fellow u-pick farmer
(not an Oak Glen farmer) that we were considering having some of the
student guests help plant the flower seed."What?" he said. "Are you kidding?" (Maybe we'll re-think that one; not sure. Our wheat field didn't turn out too bad this year and we had students sew that, but cut flowers is a first for us. I'm not even sure that we'll get it right.) Some of you might think we make our money in u-pick or by crop sales in general. It's a very small, small part of our picture, and it certainly wouldn't be enough to pay the rent on this place, if we had to provide our non-farming relatives even a small return on their investment. Let's take a look at that last apple planting we conducted on the old Joe Wilshire (non drought tolerant) terraces. I could have purchased cheaper trees, but we wanted to preserve some of the heirloom varieties. Mark that down for $3,000. We had four guys and a tractor clearing off the terraces of weeds and brush for at least a week or two. Let 's call that another $3,000. (I don't like being exact here; it hurts too much.) We put an efficient drip system to keep the young trees alive, and we purchased tree wrap and made wire gopher baskets to protect them from predators. Call that another $4,000. We spent another week planting. ($1500?) Well, that's at least $11,500 for a crop that won't be here for at least three years, and probably not in real production for five or six. We farm, because we love to farm and because you like visiting a working farm, but we make our living on living history school field trips and group dinner events. We've shown the county, conclusively, that those activities are not an impact on our neighbors, but if those neighbors ever succeeded in closing those activities down, they would be closing down Riley's Farm. On that front, we are very grateful for the hundreds of Oak Glen residents and property owners who have called to express their support, but we must remind you we're up against a contentious minority, and we're going to need your help letting the County of San Bernardino know what Riley's Farm is all about. We believe that all Oak Glen property owners, not just Riley's Farm, should be able to do what Temecula grape-growers do: feed, entertain, and lodge their guests. 
Too much news department: Bill Blanchard's Little Big Band will be here on November 11, 2006 to celebrate Veteran's Day with us in a USO style World War II dance. This group features a bank of saxophones to give it that "big band" sound and a trio of Andrews-Like sisters, so it should be fun. Look for this event soon on the 2006 Dinner Dance Events page. (That's Ray & Bea Riley just after getting married in 1942 in San Francisco--wedding papers in mom's hand.) Also: if you want a great book on growing apple trees in your Southern California backyard, check out Kevin Hauser's Kuffle Creek Press. Kevin and I had a long talk yesterday morning, and we might be able to get him up here to do some grafting workshops. (Scott and I have been fighting over his book, too; he has a lot of good advice, so check it out!) |
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| February 25, 2006 2:17 PM | |||
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It's been a high production week
here on the farm. Asher, Jim C, Greg, Josh, and Dan have had a
bone-weary week of chipping every pruning pile in site, (nothing
burned this year!) so we should have some bagged apple chips for you home-barbecuers
soon. The raspberry fields have been
cultivated, in preparation for an expansion of the patch, and I expect we
will be tilling up the corn, flower, and pumpkin fields as well.
If you aren't the sort that looks at a plowed field with a measure of
reverential awe, you won't get this, but I pass it on for the Mr. Douglas
in you all. We received a list of conditions on our CUP this week and there were some real laughers. It's not really the county's fault, because--as farmers across the country have been screaming for a decade or so--local planning codes are slow to catch up to agritourism. 
Here's a case in point: standard development code language
includes a section on "draught-tolerant" landscaping, complete with
required licensed landscape architects and certified arborists.
This is the sort of thing that gets written into the code so as to make
Wal-Mart Box stores bearable, but it's patently ridiculous on a
farm. With certain high-water table exceptions, apple trees are not "drought tolerant." If you want more of them, you need to water them. We're
big fans of efficient, drip irrigation up here, but can you imagine paying
a licensed landscape architect and a certified arborist, every time you
changed your row crops or planted a new orchard? That's the sort of
requirement that could only warm the heart of a civil engineer.
Picture "American Gothic" (Farmer, Wife, Pitchfork) with a
draught-tolerant cactus next to the porch and a battery of consultants
rolling out a blueprint on a BMW behind them. The
desire for efficient urban landscaping, in this case, could be one more
nail in the coffin of family farms. (Advance planning
department: are you listening??)On another front, as I learn more and more about the planning process, I find that almost every good idea has a difficult time keeping pace with our society's absolute demand for immediate, hard-surface, vehicle access. If you were to design a u-pick farm from scratch (ours isn't, thankfully; it's been around since 1880), you would almost have to design a ribbon of asphalt up through every row of pumpkins and past every tree. One of the reasons our suburban landscape is so dreary (and the reason you come up here!) is that it has been designed with nothing but the car, and safety, in mind. The charming, narrow streets of Europe and old New England would have modern nervous-nellies fretting about ambulance access. ("O-m'gosh! What if someone has an allergy attack in there?") Suppose you wanted to build a quaint little hike-in sleeping cabin on the far side of an apple orchard, or, heck, just allow the public access to walk to the far upper reaches of an Oak Glen farm. I can guarantee someone will be lobbying to make it every bit as accessible, and repulsive, as your average strip mall. On the CUP front, we believe we will work out these little bumps and be before the planning commission soon, but I do note that it took the United Arab Emirates less time to buy six American port facilities than it has for a living history farm to be established in Oak Glen. There's the modern global economy for you: it will take all of you longer to get a building permit than it will for a Taliban recognizing Middle Eastern regime to take over some of our port facilities. (And some of you wonder why I like living in the past.) Deep breath. Count blessings. Eat Pasta. Last night
Mary and I ventured out on date night at the Macaroni Grill in Redlands.
I had the Penne Rustico (Shrimp, Chicken, Ham in Penne Pasta), and I had
to finish it, this morning, with relish, over this journal entry, but I
note something strange that's been happening on the corporate restaurant
front. You make friends with your waitress, hear
the specials, make small talk, and you get all settled in.
She brings you more water, more wine, a little more bread with balsamic
vinegar and olive oil. You're feeling
fine--wonderful in fact. There's a cheery clamor
of smart young people bustling about with plates of steaming, Adriatic
delight everywhere. Your pretty waitress stops by again, asks
how you're doing, tells you your dish will be right up, and your wife
looks beautiful and the world is a great place because you are now part of
this bustling, Italian family. Your dinner is on
its way. I know there must be some
efficiency in this, but it's just not fair. |
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| February 21, 2006 2:17 PM | |||
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Today, despite vigorous review of
the available weather data, we had a snow flurry right in the middle of
our Revolutionary War Adventure and, true to our
word, we conducted the battle in the snow. It was cold,
but fun. A word to the wise about Oak Glen. When preparing for bad weather here, it is better to ridiculously OVER-prepare than under-prepare. One woman today brought along her best wool blanket and draped it around her shoulder as she walked from Stamp Act to Admiralty Court to the Cider Barn. She was the envy of all she surveyed. Here's the ridiculously over-prepared list: thermal underwear, heavy socks, long sleeves, long pants, hat, gloves, umbrella, and heavy blanket. If it's warm, you can always leave most of it in the car or bus, but if it's cold, well, you will wish you were ridiculously over-prepared. |
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| February 20, 2006 1:59 PM | |||
 The sun rose on a clear spring morning and Mary said to Seamus, "Isn't God Great? He makes the Sun rise for us every morning!" Seamus was unimpressed. "How do you know it's God?" he asked. And he spent next two years fashioning himself a telescope, taking measurements, and thinking. "I'm confident the earth is round, Mary, that it circles around the sun and that what you thought was God making the sun rise, was only our planet turning on its axis to reveal itself to the sun every morning." "Even better," Mary said. "That's how I cook a good bird over the fire--by turning it. God is cooking us, Seamus! He's warming us up!" She looked out at the sky. "And Isn't God great for painting it blue?" Seamus spent the next year studying water vapor, steam, wind, glass prisms, and the play of light on quiet country ponds. "I'm confident, Mary," he said, "that the earth has an atmosphere, a great mass of ether around it that holds the sun light and makes it look blue to us." Mary smiled in the moonlight at him. "He's very clever then, isn't He? Look at the way He gives the moon a different shape every night." Seamus sighed. He went back to his telescope--but not for long this time. "That's child's play, Mary! The moon doesn't spin on its axis. We see it reflecting just a part of the sun every night. It only looks like it has a different shape." Mary laughed. "So THAT's how He does it!" Seamus shrugged his shoulders and went back to his ciphering. Many years passed and one day Mary fell sick. Seamus cared for her night and day. One night, after putting her to bed, Mary looked up at him and said, "God is great. He gave you to me." Seamus bit his lip. He looked over at his telescope and back at Mary. "Birds," he said weakly, "look after each other. They die for the flock, you know." "That's true," Mary said. "the sun rises, the sky is blue, the moon changes its face every night and birds die for the flock, and there's something else, Seamus." "What, Mary?" "He died for me." Seamus frowned. "How can you possibly believe--" "Shhh," Mary said. "Quiet. I'm tired now." Mary passed on and left Seamus alone. Years went by. Seamus lived a good long time, to be a very, very old man and one day, looking at the reflection of the moon in a pond, he heard the voice of a woman behind him. It sounded so much like Mary, he shivered and turned around. It was just a young man and young woman walking by. She didn't even look like Mary, but she smiled at him, a complete stranger, and she waved. "Hello you, old father!" she said, and then she stopped. "Why are you crying?" "I am!" he said. "No. I'm not. Am I?" "Yes," she said. "You are." She took a handkerchief from her purse. She was so kind. She could have been his granddaughter. "Sometimes," she said, wiping his tears, "the first answer is the right one."
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| February 19, 2006 1:24 PM | |||
 Mr.
Hanna and friend dropped by yesterday, on their way to a USO style living
history dance, complete with Andrews Sister look-alikes and big band over
at March Air Force base museum in Riverside. Mr.
Hanna served in WWII at Guadalcanal and Okinawa, and we were honored to
have him here for several years interpreting George Washington.
With the possible exception of my Grandpa Winsor, Richard Hanna has had a life more like Indiana Jones than anyone I know. In the Sixties he actually answered an ad for a "man who likes adventure and knows how to handle a tommy gun; needed for service in reclaiming interest in a Central American gold mine." (The trip never took place, but Mr. Hanna was ready to go.) He always tells us this about his World War II service: "I was just a kid from Pennsylvania, not a hero. The heroes are the friends I left behind." We think he's being modest. |
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| February 18, 2006 6:54 AM | |||
 There's
the view out the window this morning, a light dusting of snow, probably
won't last past noon. Asher was a champion last night;
he picked up the chipper for our pruning piles in Fontana, endured I-10
freeway to get it back here in traffic, and then took down the tents
before the snow got them last night.I had a dream that we were all in some sort of electronics super-store with nightmare customer service. The check out process lasted so long that the whole family was rolling out sleeping bags on the floor; one of the clerks was splashing mop water on us and defending it: "c'mon; I'm just cleaning the floor. Chill." The manager seemed only mildly concerned; there I was complaining in a three cornered hat. It had, at any rate, this advantage: I must have gone into some very deep REM cycle sleep, because I woke up, utterly refreshed, and ready to face the day at 4:00 in the morning. An early wake up I always call a gift from God, and I've been thinking about some more colonial theme 30 second spots. My goal is to make such a funny, compelling web commercial that it will get circulated with the enthusiasm that some folks circulated the Carlsberg Draft commercial--which is probably impossible, but would make up for our limited advertising budget. INT: Electronics Super Store. Colonial farmer is waiting in line... |
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| February 16, 2006 6:01 PM | |||
 Asher's
holding up there, on the right, an unusual piece of farm irrigation ice
sculpture from this morning. Sometimes an early
morning winter drive through Oak Glen, past Los Rios or Parrish Pioneer
Ranch, can be an interesting experiment in the physics of water, as the
sprinklers draw glistening spikes on the trees.
This freeze is good news; it hold the trees back a little from too early a bloom, (Almighty willing.) We do have a favorite peach that seems ready to pop, so pray for some cold, and a little wet, in the next few weeks. When your mom told you it was good to be a late bloomer, she was expressing the farmer's prayer. My children have taken to blogging with a passion, so I'm being prodded away. Until tomorrow... |
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| February 15, 2006 11:40 PM | |||
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The apples are being planted on the old
terraces and we're happy to report that Grandma and Grandpa are
ultra pleased with the potential crop.
Pam Morrison drove them down the terraces
to see the trees going in yesterday. Jeff Hammond had a good idea with respect
to the planting order. The later blossoming and ripening
apples will be higher up the
terrace, so fewer guests will be tempted to pick an apple |
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| February 12, 2006 11:40 PM | |||
We had a good visit with Neil Compton of
Trees of Antiquity Saturday morning; I'm hoping we can get him out
here for a grafting workshop one of these days. If you
want to try growing some great heirloom apples at home, this is his busy
time of year for shipping, so
drop him a line. As we wrote earlier, Benita and Scott's daughter, Megan, has been involved in serious, scoreless children's basketball, and up until last week we were happy to report they were on a winning streak, but last week, they actually lost one of these scoreless encounters. Cindy Swanson, who complains her picture has never been in the farm journal, didn't want me to know. But who, really, is keeping score? Not the lady on the right. That's for sure. We had two Valentines events here Saturday night--one for a private church group and the other our public dinner up at the Packing Shed. I've been reviewing the "dailies" of it today, via some digital video taken by Jeff Hammond and it looks like it was a lot of fun. I'll try to knock out a mini-video tomorrow. Till then... |
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| February 10, 2006 8:36 PM | |||
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Some of you very observant farm visitors may
have noticed the faint trace of a series of lines in the hills around our farm.
Well... Tomorrow, Trees of Antiquity will be here with 150 bare root heirloom apple trees for the terrace planting below. These neat rows were cut out by Joe Wilshire, the farm's original homesteader back around the turn of the century. Greg Anton, Joe's grandson, claims he remembers some of the original planting back in the 1960s, when the trees had all dried up and the land was used for grazing. We've spent the last two weeks getting a new irrigation system in, clearing out weeds, and scrub, but Joe Wilshire, (or perhaps Blackie Wilshire, his son?) used a fresno rig, with mules, to cut these neat rows. We're happy to say they're going to be re-planted with new trees from America's past. If you like watching new trees go in the ground, stop by and say hello. (We had hoped to have all the planting holes in place tomorrow, but we're probably going to have to "heel" them in, but it will still be fun.) We STILL have a few tickets for tomorrow night's Valentine's at the Old Packing shed. Our crew has been practicing some great old numbers from the turn of the century (20th, not 21st), and we're sure to have a lot of fun--so sign up!
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| February 7, 2006 7:10 AM | |||
 Sharon
Bender, Krystle's mom, has come up with a great solution for you moms who
want a 19th century dress for your girls--all ready made.
This one (right) comes with an apron and pantaloons.
We're still trying to set the price, but keep watching the general store
page for it.  Valentine's
dinner sales are picking up. Buy
Your Tickets today! Dan Johns brought his thoroughbred up this week--replacing the skittish quarter horses, and for the first time ever, we greeted one of the Revolutionary War tour groups on horseback. Good work, Mr. Johns!
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| February 2, 2006 8:41 AM | |||
 If
you know anyone who would like to live full or part time in the past,
now's the time to let us know. Call 909-797-7534 and ask
for Susan Usher, Ron Conrad or Jon Harmon, or tell us about yourself
here. Thanks! |
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More Farm Journal Entries
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That's a picture of Krystle & Chelsea's
dinner plate at the packing shed Valentine's event last Saturday.
By all accounts, it was...incredible. I still
don't have the video edited, but I'll have it soon, so keep watching.
We also hosted a Shakespeare contest at this event, and we worried that no
one would be willing to get up on
stage, but--count 'em--four different couples threw themselves into Romeo
& Juliet. Good work, Riley's Farm guests!
that isn't
ready yet--and, if you really want an apple in the late fall, you'll have
to work your way to the top. Now, if the Almighty just
gives us a little winter before the spring, everything will be, uh,
peachy. 