I like a good story. I always have. As a child I was an avid reader - mostly of science fiction and adventure stories. I also loved listening to the life stories of my parents and other adults who took the time to recount their stories of youth. Many stories related by the old timers of Carbon County focused on growing up and working the old coal mining camps of central Utah. After high school, having worked as a migrant worker and hopping trains and hitchhiking through out the west, my love a good story led me to the University of Utah where I studied English Lit. It was around that time I fell in love with the works of John Steinbeck, who still remains my favorite author to this day. The power of his writing is that the physical landscape is more than just a backdrop to the actions of his characters. The land is part of his characters' "soul"; a defining characteristic of who they are. That struck a chord with me because the rugged, semi-arid mountains of central Utah seemed such a defining characteristic of the old timers who related their stories to me of the mining camps.
The French use the word "terrior"(pronounced tair wahr) to describe the unique attributes given to a wine (or any food for that matter) grown in a certain region that make it different from a wine produced in a different region. I think that goes for people too. A coal miner in Kentucky, while having a similar job as a coal miner in Utah, will be shaped differently by his experience due to the differences of the land. Not better or worse, just different.
And so a former desert rat, shaped and molded by the sandstone and sagebrush of his youth, found his way in 2003 to the green, fertile fields of Oregon's Willamette Valley. My own little piece of the valley consists of 2.63 acres, which a few decades ago was part of a christmas tree farm. Within a half mile of my house exist at least two u-cut christmas tree farms, along with a hazel nut orchard, a small lavender farm, and pastures with cows, sheep, llamas and alpacas.
The area I call "the farm" is a nice two acre rectangle. The house and living space comprise the other .63 acre. For the first four years I didn't really touch the farm. Three summers ago I decided to plant a 3' X 12' strip next to the house with several tomato plants, peppers and beans. The soil consists of a lot of clay but the modest success of that garden led me to the farm where with the help of my daughter Erin and son-in-law, Trevor, we put in six raised beds covered by arch constructed of pvc piping and netting to protect it from the roaming deer that are always present. The tomatoes were mostly a failure, as were the pumpkins. The tomatoes succumbed to a vine rot. We had lots of them, but most rotted on the vine. The pumpkins were a different story. We had dozens begin to develop on the vine. I was counting all the pumpkin pies I would be able to bake in my head. The reality was different. We ended up with two or three that fully developed. The others withered on the vine due to lack of pollination. I later discovered I could have hand pollinated them with a paint brush, swabbing the male flowers and then the female flowers attached to the pumpkins themselves. I'm a complete novice at this. There is a steep learning curve before me.
We had successes, also. Plenty of lettuce that summer, along with peas, green beans, three types of peppers, carrots and beets(which we pickled as well as ate fresh). I had also planted the beginnings of an orchard that spring with apple and pear trees bought cheap at a local nursery because the tags had been washed clean by the rains and they couldn't identify their specific varieties. It was the failure of the pumpkins, however, and stories in the news that moved my imagination and planning to the next level.
My lack of pollinated pumpkins and the news coverage of what was being called "colony collapse disorder" got me thinking about bees. I was instantly hooked. The more I read about ccd and bees in general only increased my interest. I decided to jump in. It started with attending bee school that was offered by the local beekeepers association for the $20 price of membership. I read several books and focused on organic beekeeping methods. I started with five hives and by mid July had eight after catching my own swarms.
Lost Road, to date, consists of those eight hives, a fledgling orchard of 19 trees, and a fenced garden with nine 4' x 12' raised beds, a tilled 10' x 30' plot, and two compost bins. The story of the farm, however, is just beginning. It's being written with each dream, each success and failure, money, and lots of sweat. It is a story in progress.
