A letter to my friend, Pagosa - - Dear Friend Pagosa - Welcome to the world of garlic lovers/growers. It is a beautiful but difficult world frought with emotional highs and lows, disasters and successes and times when you both love and smolder towards Mother Earth. In short, it's kinda like being in love, with all its ecstasies and agonies, the ecstasies still out weight the agonies - and even if they didn't, we'd do it anyway. And yes, we would be emotional and even poetic about it - there is something about growing garlic that is very spiritual. Knowing that it is only through my considerable personal effort that these little things have any kind of chance at continuing to live. I am the one who chooses who is to live and who is to die and how - as a grower of garlic, it is an inescapable task. Planting garlic is more than throwing some seed around, it is a deliberate act of parenting and choosing your children. You want to give them the best place to live and every opportunity to do well and help them along the way until they are ready to graduate and leave home. There is both pride and sadness when they go off to other places to await their fate, whether it is table ot garden, but the best children stay home to help out around the place and produce next years children. Alas, another fate awaits some of our children and that is to be pulled underground at any time during their growing period and be eaten alive by gophers. If they are in adjacent fields, they will see your planting of garlic as a call to dinner and you have your first real challenge as a grower. It is a serious problem that can severely limit your ability to make a profit from your growing operation if not handled effectively. We don't have this problem where I live so I don't have any personal experience with it. A friend of mine, Chester Aaron, wrote a book about his battle against gophers (Garlic is Life! - buy it) and he wound up building planting boxes 12 inches high with chicken wire or 1/2 in. square hardware cloth stapled to the bottoms to keep the varmits out - also has a guard cat who eats gophers (the cycle of nature comes full circle). One thing is for sure, you are not going to exterminate them - if there were a way to do that, it would already have been done. A .22 short or a high powered air rifle with a scope is very good if you are in an area where you can use it, but it is strictly a war of attrition waged more for personal satisfaction that being truly effective, but every little bit helps and dead gophers are organic - compost them. Still, the real idea is to keep them away from your crop, not necessarily to kill them, after all, they're just working stiffs doing their jobs. I use heavy row covers over the top to keep the grasshoppers away from my garlic crop, Chester uses hardware cloth from below to ward off gophers. Perhaps there is an alternative crop that you can plant cheaply nearby that the gophers prefer and thus lure them away from your goodies. How deep do gophers burrow? This is one of many problem areas that causes me to usually recommend people start out smaller than they will ultimately become so that they can learn to deal with them effectively without risking the loss of a big crop. Perhaps your retiring neighbor who was growing garlic before can give you some advice on gophers. I wish you well. Please let me know how it works out. I am going to begin this off-season to put in some information on the website about how to battle such pests in an organic or sustainable manner. Largely, I will depend on feedback from other growers like you for problems I do not experience here. Perhaps we can all learn together how to more effectly grow our garlic better and in an earth-friendly way. Back to Questions A letter to Chester Aaron, Jan. 3, 2001 Dear Chester - It's another cold, gray early pre-dawn winter morning and feels like it. What a morbidly beautiful time to write. I haven't written much lately. Papa's not been able to do anything of late and so I get to play cowboy a lot more than usual. There's a lot of work involved in taking care of Papa's herd and keeping the fences tight enough to hold cattle. One of these days I've got to replace the siding on the barn and put in new fences all around cause these old fences don't hardly fool the cows any more. I hope you are well and getting into all kinds of good trouble. I hope you had a pleasant and memorable holiday season and I hope you have more women than you know what to do with and a couple extra just to offer suggestions. I wish you more fun and accomplishments this year than ever and I hope your life just gets better and more interesting every day. And if you manage to pull that off, please let me know how you did it. Whether you fulfill all your goals or not, I hope you enjoy the chase, my friend. When I'm not farming and ranching, I'm spending as much time as possible on the internet researching prostate cancer and endocrinology as well as anything to help me understand molecular biology, biophysics, biochemistry, etc. so that we can help Papa have the best chance at some kind of quality of life. Mainstream medicine's major contribution is to promise to make powerful pain relievers available when the time comes for him to need them; otherwise they have nothing for him. So far we have been able to stay ahead of it with PC SPES and a hormone replacement therapy. Eventually, of course, it will probably win - we just want to give it a good long race so that hopefully he can live long enough for something less painful to claim him and so cheat the cancer of its intended victim. We're big on quality of life issues around here right now. Having to die seems so unfair, and yet death is as much a part of life as birth and we would be incomplete without it. It is what we do with our lives and how we affect others that really matters. It is the changes we bring about that defines who we are. Our immortality is assured so long as our actions or words affect others. When nothing we have said or done affects others anymore and there is no other sign we ever lived, only God remembers us, for we were his earthly manifestations while we lived, just like all else. Maybe God lives vicariously through the lives of all else that live. Maybe we should live our lives so as to give God a good ride - God probably enjoys a good time. Maybe we should live our lives as though we were to spend all eternity repeating them endlessly. I may have to make a few changes. [Exit philosophical soapbox.] A man watched me cut and split firewood yesterday. He didn't say anything, he just watched me use a bow saw to cut the logs by hand when there was a chain saw in the tool shed. I told him I preferred the bow saw because it was quieter and I could listen to the sounds of nature as I worked rather than drive them away. The raucous roar of the chain saw rapes the purity and tranquility of this beautifully serene place, but the bow saw sings quietly as it works and its sound is a welcome addition to this days concert. Making the music warms and strengthens me and I am happy with my new saw blade for it takes a noble metal to cut through oak and mesquite. He watched me as I examined each piece to be split to see how it would cleave, where the burls and branches were and carefully select just the right place on the lower end of the log to place the hand held wedge. He saw me hold it with one gloved hand and strike the wedge sharply with the five pound hammer as many times as needed to split the log. Each half was then split another couple of times to get a good assortment of sizes and shapes of sticks of firewood. He didn't say anything out loud but I could hear him anyway. He watched me build the fire by taking one of the small sticks and whittling it down into slivers until there was enough to build a little teepee of shavings that I lit with only one match. I kept feeding it small pieces until it was well established and then larger and larger pieces used until there was a roaring blaze filling the room with warmth, amber light with flickering shadows and the unmistakable aroma of honey mesquite. He smiled when I added a few sticks of pecan wood to add a sweet mellowness of aroma that is nearly intoxicating - [It's a very special wood, that's why we cook with it.] While he didn't say a thing, I heard every word he thought as we enjoyed watching the yellow and orange flames dance and play for us to their own music of hissing and popping and an occasional sputter or sizzle as some unfortunate burrowing insect gets cremated. I shared with him my secret way of making fire as a gesture of friendship. We enjoy the solitude of the place and the splendor of moment as we listen to each other's stories and laugh. He is a delightful man - witty, intelligent and well-experienced in life and a good story teller, though he doesn't say a word. He sits there in his jeans and short boots, purple shirt and that wide brimmed straw western-style hat, uttering not a sound; yet his lively eyes, magnificent nose and majestic moustache that would make Einstein envious, say everything that needs saying. Chester was a delightful guest. Wordlessly, he regaled me with stories. Chester wasn't really here, of course, only in spirit as my imaginary guest. Sometimes when I am working hard or on the tractor my mind wanders and I think of somebody I know or used to know and wonder what it would be like to see them again and I wonder what I would say to them or what they would say; sometimes it's old girl friends or high school chums or some interesting celebrity who's done something worthwhile. Today was your turn again, my friend - you've been here before. You enjoyed the visit and were a great guest, I hope you don't mind my kidnapping your spirit momentarily but out here in this splendid nowhere-ness you never can tell who I might be having a virtual visit with while I'm cutting wood or on my knees planting clove after clove after clove. They all enjoy their visits and come often. Outside the short cyclone fence that surrounds the house and small yard is nothing but open prairie with cows trying to find something to eat in the shallow snow. You can always tell when the cows are eating priclky pear, they chew with their mouths wide open and their necks straight out. It's windy and cold out and the fire feels good and I enjoy having someone to share it with while I'm waiting for Merridee to wake up. The soft purring of the gentle fire, a calf's hungry cry for mama from somewhere outside, the fluttering of cardinals playing in the newfallen snow - It's all part of the grand concert that few people hear anymore because of television, CD's, traffic and the noise pollution of city life. I remember the traffic jams, road rage, angry people and noisy selfish kids and all the other benefits of city living and and quietly revel in my good fortune to be living in the country in ignorance of all those sophisticated things. As far as I can see in every direction, nothing but prairie, snow and a few cows and not a traffic jam or a horn honking anywhere. Damn, life is good. In the freezing weather I enjoy luxurious open air cruising on our old open tractor when I put out hay [1200 lb round bales] for the cattle a couple of hours a day. It gets pretty interesting on that old tractor when the temp and wind are both in the 20's and you're driving into it. It sends ice cold tears driven by the wind slowly streaming sideways across your face, freezing as they go. Here the winter wind whips down outta the Rockies and across the prairie and just seems to drain your strength away from you. My winter coat of long hair and beard make me look like a mountain man, but they're warm out there on the ranch - my face doesn't get cold like it did before I grew the beard. Makes the local cops look at me kinda funny, though. The worst thing is the diesel smoke - I hate that stuff. Riding on the tractor is kinda fun, really. You drive a car but you ride a tractor - a little like a horse but without the sore butt [and it doesn't laugh at you when you get hit by a tree branch]. You're up in the air even higher than when you're on a horse so you can see a long way and the breeze in your face is refreshing. Your mind is prone to wander as soon as you mount up. You can feel the motion better because the wind blows across your face and body, especially when you stand up while riding, as you have to sometimes when it's on rough ground. All except that disgusting damn smoke, it's the pits. Even though it's noisy and smelly, it is still gives a sense of freedom of movement and power and changes the most backbreaking field tasks into a few hours of noisy, smelly boredom at the wheel. After a while, you sorta tune out the all pervasive gnashing sound, the choking fumes and the gritty dust and the mind soars. Of course, it goes to places you can't write down and composes things you won't remember but soon enough your task is done. When you park the tractor, the crush of silence that rushes in when you switch off the engine is almost devastating and you feel a little unbalanced as you get down and walk like a drunk for a few steps as you find your balance again and pause to enjoy the the peace and quiet and a little fresh air. I must mention, though, I hate that damn diesel smoke. I gotta go now, it's time for me to go through the ritual of dressing for spending two hours on the tractor feeding unappreciative bovines and then take a little time to split some firewood for tonight. Who knows, I might even have company splitting the wood. I wonder who it will be - I guess I'll have to wait and find out. Your friend, Bob Back to Questions A letter to my dear friend, Odena Brannam - Nov. 18, 2000 - Dear Odena - It's cold and clammy here today. We had a little rain mixed with sleet when I was putting out hay for the cattle earlier and it snowed a little the other day. It can get cold up there on that old open tractor, especially if you're heading into the wind. That's when farming and ranching get a little harder, but it still has to be done. The cattle need their fodder, all green stuff isn't good for them. It has been so green lately, it's been like living in a golf course or a park of some kind. It sure is a welcome change and a breath of cool, fresh air, literally, after the long dusty drought. The dead drab brown of yesterday is just another semi-forgotten memory receding further into the past in the splendor of this verdant beauty. Things change so fast in nature at times. It's the time of year you want to take walks out in it and revel in being alive and able to enjoy it. We had a heavy frost a couple of days ago that made it look like a whole different place. Everything was so white and clean. You could just see everything sharper and clearer. Your breath would hang in the air and the sound of your breathing was the only sound in a starkly silent world. The view to the East was magnificent as I sipped my coffee waiting for the sun to come and take this spectre of the night spirit's art from me. I though about getting the camera to get a picture, but decided instead that this one was for me alone to enjoy. Besides, that would have meant getting out of the electrically heated throw my loving daughter gave me a few years ago and which I truly cherish - both the daughter and the heated throw. Since we've had the frost, we now are starting to see wisps of brown/gray drifting into the green as the grasses damaged by the frost wilt and lose a few leaves. The cows like that - there's more dry stuff for them to eat and mix with the green, after all, they've got to eat for two. Maybe we'll put out range cubes tomorrow instead of hay. I hope you're keeping busy and getting around OK. Nobody tells me otherwise so I'll continue to assume you're doing as well as can be expected in all areas and getting younger and healthier all the time. Back to Questions A letter to my friend Chiledog on the Chesapeake - Febr. 2000 - Chiledog - Yesterday morning I stood in shirt sleeves on the dam of the pond (they're called tanks in Texas) near our house where I have caught many 5 and 6 lb bass the last six years. It is dry now with its exposed rocks resembling bones scattered around its giant jigsaw puzzle of a bottom ten feet below me. A 25 to 30 MPH wind is roaring in from the west carrying a West Texas Fog (dust storm to Easterners) that darkens the sky and irritates both nose and eye. In the neighbor's pasture, cattle wander the blackened earth where a range fire roared through a couple of days ago, greedily gulping down the Prickly Pear cactus now denuded of their thorny defenses. They would have eaten them anyway, but it is easier now that the spines have been burned off. It is pathetically humorous to watch a cow eating prickly pear that still has its thorns. They look kinda funny as they chew with their mouths open and their necks straight out. Droughts are tough. It has been a warm winter with temps in the 70's and 80's a lot and only a few sporadic frosty morns. The landscape is a dreary mix of brown and tan with bare trees that resemble vertical skeletons haunting yet another dry winter day in this current drought. A mile or two south of the house the water drips steadily from the T-Tapes under the mulch (that which hasn't blown away yet) and keeps the garlic growing ever larger, little by little. It is good to see green. It reminds me that sooner or later the rains will come and the wildflowers will return and bring green grass with them. Hope springs from the certain knowledge that this drought, too, will be relieved by flooding. Perhaps this Mother Nature's way of getting back at us for the harm we have done to her. Your little house out in the snow seems like the perfect retreat from the world of creature comforts that Thoreau would have liked. We had one when I was a small kid in Oklahoma during WWII; It had a hole in the bench inside and we called it an outhouse. Somehow, it didn't take nearly as long to contemplate the nature of the universe on a frigid winter night as it did on a nice spring morning. It is really too soon to say which varieties will do well this year until about mid to late April. Sometimes warm, windy, dry winters make the garlic change its flavor for the year, only to return to its norm next year. Sometimes this kind of weather makes mild garlics strong and vice-versa - we won't know for sure until the garlic is cured. And some people think all garlic is all the same all the time - wrong! Growing conditions make a world of difference. The garlic farmer's life is by no means boring and repetitive. I always enjoy wondering what will happen next even though it's not what I expected. Bob PS - I'm not really bitchin' about our weather, just describing it - I guess drought is better than no weather. Back to Questions Another letter to Pagosa - Nov. 2000 - Dear Pagosa - It's the isolation I love. It's that I can walk around the yard and as far as I can see in all directions, it's just like it was centuries ago, except for the line of wooden power poles coming out of the infinite East right up to our house where it stops. Not a house or a barn or anything manmade except in our own little area - it's like going back in time as far as your imagination can take you - after all, there's no one to distract you. It's free open country to do in as you see fit. You can dress like a witch or a princess or not at all and there's no one to know or care. It is freedom as pure as it ever gets. There's a surprising amount of wildlife here (game, as the hunters call it) to share it with. Merridee loves it even more than I do for it has been her family's home for four generations Seven months ago when we moved into our present and final home from another house on the ranch we had lived in for seven years, we left our tv there and haven't missed it a bit. We don't own a stereo but the computer plays cd's so we play a little Beethoven or Mozart or maybe some Enya occasionally. Mostly if I want music, I just play my Indian flute (we have a little Choctaw is us). It's very relaxing and therapeutic. We moved because we ran out of water six months before and got tired of hauling it by the barrell. We'll probably go get the tv and use it to get live local emergency weather information. Two weeks ago we were in the midst of a dire drought and in a perilous situation. The land wore a tired, dirty, ragged summer khaki uniform and all was drab and all was baked brown and hard and all was tan and all was dreary as it has been increasingly so for several years. But that was then and this is now and it is green and lush like a prairie after a spring rain. Life is everywhere and gone is the heavy oppression of the heat and dust. Plant, animal and cussed Texan alike are suddenly optimistic and happy to be alive. We've had a lot of rain lately and the tanks are all filled to running over again and the creeks are roaring. Right now our road back to reality (or even the mail box) is underwater in two places and I can't get out in my little car until the water subsides. Mother earth is a little hard to understand sometimes. Our drought was relieved in April by storms so severe they destroyed the crops we hoped they would relieve and then she increased the intensity of the drought by adding a record heat wave. She is currently engaged in a project of relieving our high-intensity drought with flooding. She shows her love in strange ways. Just a few thoughts on a pleasant rainy day. Think I'll play my flute for a while. listen carefully and you may even hear it sometime when you're alone in the early light or sharing a quiet walk with a loved one - is that really the sound of a dove in the distance? Or is it the sound of an Indian flute finding its way home to the pueblo it left hundreds of years ago when a band of Chata (Choctaw) visited the Dine (Navajo) on a trading trip and brought the flute back to their homeland in what is now Mississippi? Take Care, Bob. Back to Questions These are but a few examples of dozens of such letters that I have written to people all over the country, either in response to questions, or just in routine correspondence. Many people asked me to gather them together into a book and they would buy it. I have finally decided to take their advice and am in the process of compiling them, now. Please E-Mail me if you would like to be put on the list of people to contact when the book is ready. We are also thinking of putting much of the garlic information that is on our website into another book so that more people can learn about the wonders of garlic, and would appreciate any feedback you may care to give us on either of these ideas. E-Mail me Back to Questions Click here for pictures of our beautiful 2001 Spring.

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