The changes were subtle at first, new migrant trails forming east of the railroad tracks in the desert going past the house and a more visible Border Patrol presence. The trickle became a stream that turned into a flood right around the time the Border Patrol put up a temporary checkpoint on 1-19 three miles south of the ranch. The migrants walk north until they have passed the check-point, then turn west to the freeway under heavy natural cover, call their rides on cell phones, pop out of the underbrush after leaving everything they were carrying behind, hop into the car and they’re gone. There has been a demand for their labor in agriculture, construction, and the service industry; the remittances they send home are a large part of their country’s income. The “false documented” workers with the fake Social Security cards pump billions of dollars into that fund, but will never claim it. Is it any wonder that this problem has not been dealt with politically in this country?

We get hundreds of trespassers every week on this property. Whether they are walking, driving, or riding, they drop trash as they go, cut fences, bust water lines, and scatter cattle. The migrants wear scruffy clothes, the Border Patrol wear green uniforms, but whatever they are wearing they are infringing on our personal space and I’m sick of it!

Here are some typical scenes:

As the moon gets fuller and the nights are brighter, the human smugglers and the solos start their trek north. During the night the dogs bark out into the desert letting us know people are passing. In the morning I walk several hundred yards into the desert and count 8, 10, or 30 sets of fresh footprints.

Someone is on the tractor at l0am and can see a group of 8 migrants walking along the river. They call Border Patrol and describe, again, where we are located, how to get in here and down to the river. The last agents who learned the lay of the land have been reassigned, so a new batch has to learn where to go. By the time they show up the walkers have moved into dense cover in the mesquite trees. They won’t be found.

I’m out on my daily walk enjoying a gorgeous stretch of the Santa Cruz River when the dogs let me know there are people. A migrant peers out from behind a bush. I look at him, he looks at me, I wave, he waves, and then I make a detour and continue on my way while he ducks back into the shadows of the trees. The next day, in the same general area, I’m sitting on a log enjoying the view when a BP agent comes galloping along on his horse. He almost passes me before he sees me. He slows down and comes over. I notice his horse is lame, “Have you seen any people?” he asks. “Not today” is my reply “but maybe you should check where all the garbage is a half mile that way.” He moves off at a fast clip and I regret, for the horse’s sake, not pointing out that it’s lame on the right front. A short while later I watch him gallop back the way he came.

A frustrated young BP agent from Arkansas is huffing back to his vehicle, “They didn’t stop when I yelled STOP. The academy didn’t tell us they wouldn’t stop!

An older migrant resting in the shadows explains that he is headed back to Florida where he has lived for 18 years and where his wife, kids, job, car, and house are. He was caught and deported when he let his driver’s license expire; now he’s headed home. It’s his third try.

It’s Saturday and we’re driving on I-19. A convoy of pick-up trucks that have seen better days is going south, each one piled high with furniture, toys, bikes, appliances, etc. Goods accumulated during the owner’s stint in the US, but now they are headed home. This is a common sight.

It’s the end of the day and we are sitting outside enjoying a beer and the sunset when a large BP truck with a spy tower bolted to the flatbed drives noisily by on the ranch road to the desert. A short while later another BP truck misses the turn off for that road and is coming towards the house; I amble out to greet him. “Your buddy went that way. What’s happening?” I ask. “A large group is going through.” I contemplate following them out to watch the excitement, but the beer and sunset are more entertaining. Fifteen minutes later they leave, empty-handed.

We are jumping on the trampoline at dusk. The unmanned spy tower is visible a mile away, but since so many migrants walk past I assume that its all for show – but maybe we show up as two bouncing blips on the night vision scope and give the boys in green a chuckle.

It’s dark and I step outside to breath in the cool night air. I immediately hear the helicopter a quarter mile away and I see its lights illuminating a hill in the distance. I watch with mild curiosity and wonder if I’m in Fly-speck, AZ or South Central LA. The noise goes on for 20 minutes or so, then the chopper leaves and the dogs let me know people are going past. I can hear the excited voices of the BP agents as they walk the distance back to their vehicle in the moonlight, empty handed. The fresh prints the next day tell me that the group they were after broke into smaller groups and moved deeper into the desert. The smugglers know this land as well as I do and as well as the Indian scouts from a hundred years ago; we all just melt into the landscape if we have to.

Night has arrived and the news is on saying that in the continuing effort to secure the border 200 more agents have been assigned to the Tucson Sector. I roll my eyes as I roll over in bed. During the night the dogs will bark letting us know people are going past.

Our stories could fill volumes, and everyone who lives along the border region has variations, mine are not unique.

My observations would be incomplete if I didn’t mention the trash. I know of four huge campsites on this property alone, hidden in the trees. Each one would fill a dump-truck up with Made in Mexico blankets, Made in Korea shoes, Made in Taiwan jackets, Made in China backpacks, and enough plastic bags and bottles to sink a boat. I’m sure that if all the trash were picked up within a 5-mile radius it would overwhelm the local landfill.

Everything is made of synthetic materials that won’t break down for decades; they will become artifacts in 50 years! The four large sites on the ranch are reaching the critical point smothering the grass that the cattle would eat as the garbage spreads out over an acre. Maybe we could dig 4 large holes with the tractor and hire some of these migrants to toss it all in. They are the only ones who would want the job at the rate I would want to pay. Why is it our responsibility to deal with this volume of trash that’s there because of failed politics?

As the campaign season heats up I would love to hear the candidates talk about this issue, and not just about securing the border–because that’s a pipe dream. The solid fence being erected along the border is cutting off wildlife corridors; although blowtorches are already cutting holes in it (where there is a will there is a way). The multi-million dollar permanent checkpoint that is back on the table for the Amado area would be a huge, expensive, inefficient (they walk around it for Pete’s sake) eyesore that wouldn’t change anything from my perspective. Throwing more money and gadgets at the Dept. of Homeland Security is not the answer. Let’s do like the Italians have done and give all the migrants with a job and a place to stay a green card. It would be business as usual and the workers wouldn’t be afraid of getting deported when they got their card. Then we can sort out who’s whom and the migrants can come out of the shadows and have a voice. Another good idea I heard a few years ago was for the migrant to open a bank account at the border on their way into this country with the money that would have gone to the smuggler, then have a portion of their pay deposited into it. When it was time to return home they would have a nice sum in their account as incentive to leave. Mine is only a small voice in the wind, but it is part of a loud chorus in the border region. I hope we make enough noise to be heard and some creative politics comes into play to end this insanity.

Because canning and freezing have been around long enough to become embedded in our food culture, it’s a bit disconcerting to think of preserving food by any other means. Just how did our forefathers preserve food prior to Louis Pasteur’s discovery of sterilization by heat (1860’s) and the invention of refrigeration (early 1900’s)? Drying and salting were certainly used extensively; smoking, drying and salting were used to preserve meat and fish and drying was employed primarily for fruit. When it came to preserving everything else, fermentation was the preferred choice. Fermentation? Ughh! Because refrigeration and canning have driven such a permanent wedge between us and our long history with fermentation, many people are now repelled by the thought of eating something thats been fermented. Actually fermentation is still used to make a few common foods and beverages, namely; beer, wine, cheese, yogurt, kefir, sauerkraut and sourdough bread. Unfortunately, except for the latter, all of these foods are typically pasteurized. Why this is a bad thing will be pointed out shortly.

Why would one want to preserve something by fermentation when it can be canned or frozen? There are several very good reasons. Canning and freezing both consume large amounts of scarce energy that we are currently fighting wars over. Fermentation requires no electricity or cooking. Freezing any large quantity of food requires a chest type freezer - a luxury purchase for most. Canning also requires the purchase of additional equipment. Fermentation only requires a water seal crock and recycled jars to take excess production from the crock. Because sealing is less important with fermented food, lids can also be recycled.

Perhaps more importantly, the process of canning - using heat to sterilize food (pasteurization) - denatures food by destroying nutrients and important enzymes that aid in digestion. Conversely, fermentation releases nutrients, making them more available for our bodies to use. Fermentation is accomplished by probiotic Lactobacillus cultures - those friendly guys that live in our digestive system and help us assimilate food. 100 years of refrigeration and canning has separated us from our 10,000+ year long symbiotic relationship with these cultures and research indicates that many modern mental and physical illnesses may be attributed to lack of cultured foods in our diet.

What about bad bacteria getting into food and making us sick? Isn’t that why pasteurization became popular? Three things; 1) fermented foods are made with salt which creates an inhospitable environment for bad bacteria; because our bodies contain salt, friendly lactobacillus bacteria can flourish in a salty environment (we are 80% bacteria), 2) given the right fermentation environment, the friendly bacteria will kill keep bad ones at bay, 3) Luis Pasteur had some very wealthy influential friends who saw the potential of using his process to their financial advantage. The latter was the beginning of the industrialization of food and the downhill slide of human health and historic food cultures.

Another oft asked question is regarding the time it takes to make fermented foods. In reality it takes much less time to go through the fermentation process than the canning process. Canning requires a cooking stage for some foods and the heat sealing stage in a canner. None of this is needed for the fermentation process. The Japanese employ perhaps the easiest system. They use a “koji box” made of rot resistant wood (modified wine barrels work), fill it with rice hulls, add water and salt, inoculate it with culture, put it in a dark cool place and then add whole intact vegetables as they come from the garden. When they need a vegetable, they reach into the box and pull it out. What can be simpler? Rice hulls have a natural resistance to fungus and the addition of the salt and culture completes the preservative picture.

A simple water seal crock is a good way to start fermenting (I got mine online). There are many recipes for fermenting foods depending on the type and desired result. A basic recipe for vegetables is to place them in the crock in layers and sprinkle each layer with salt. Add the inoculant, place a weight on top, cover with water, place the lid on and fill the water seal. The seal prevents entry of undesirables and allows the carbon dioxide given off by the culture to bubble out during fermentation. Whey derived from clabbering fresh goat or cow milk is full of lactobacillus culture and makes a great inoculate. Use a couple tablespoons of whey per gallon. If you have some fermented food and no whey, use some of the juice from the fermented food (as long as it hasn’t been pasteurized) as an inoculate. After 2 or 3 weeks fermentation in the crock (cooler temperatures slow fermentation, warmer speeds it), place the vegetables in jars for longer term storage, freeing up the crock for the next batch. Canning jars as well as recycled peanut butter, pickle or any other jar with a metal lid and a rubber seal will work. Jars and lids should be sterilized. Crocks and jars should be stored in a cool dark place (root cellars are hard to beat). If none exists in your house, put the jars in the fridge for longer storage. I’ve had kraut last for 6 months in jars, out of the fridge. For more info, email me at katbambu@hotmail.com.

As Aries–the first sign–is about me, so Libra, the seventh sign, the sign opposite Aries on the zodiac wheel, is about the other.  Libra is the sign of marriage and all equal partnerships.  We all have to balance ourselves with another, even if we don’t marry.

The essential lesson for Libra is this:  how can I be me and still honor you. The undeveloped Libran most often bends to the wishes of others, unable to maintain integrity.  If this compromise is done with resentment–and believe me, it often is–unresolved anger builds in the Libra.  Yes, that peace-loving, peace-keeping Libra in your life could be raging underneath that sweet smile.

Libran virtues include fairness, beauty, sociability, kindness, and willingness to compromise.  Libran shadows are indecisiveness, unwillingness to be honest if it might hurt someone, procrastination, and saying what people want to hear.  Without other deepening energies, The Libran can be shallow.

Decorators, publicrelations people, organizers of social functions, party givers, and hostesses:  all Libran.  Societiy’s most powerful Libran expressions are the diplomat, the judge, and the general.

Libra is ruled by Venus, goddess of beauty.  May and October–both under Venusian vibrations–are Earth’s most beautiful months.  The beauty in May is most evidenti n the blooming flowers.  The beauty in October is in autumn color and the sunset sky.  Sunset is the Libra time.  The glyph for Liba is the setting sun.

Libra is beauty in proportion:  that hour-glass figure ins Libra.  Libra is beauty in movement:  the dance is Libra.  Libra is beauty in contrast:  chiaraschuro is Libra.  So is the hillside lit up with autumn color.

Libra is the second air sign, the second sign of man.  Only three signs–the air signs–are not animals.  The air signs focus on thought and the interelatedness of all things.  Here we learn that only minds can join and the concept of “my thought” is quite impossible.

Libra is represented by the scales, not even a human image.  There is, in Libra, an emotional detachment that allows the native to see both sides.  If a person is depicted holding the scales, he is blindfolded, symbolizing the impartiality needed for justice.  You can count on the Libra in your life for a balanced and fair appraisal.  Libra is also the obvious mediator in any conflict.  Astrologer Nancy Cohen says the little Libra is born to save his parents’ marriage, born to forever go between.

Many judges are born under the sign of the scales and also surprisingly many generals, Dwight David Eisenhower being the most famous.  If there isn’t peace, well  guess what. .. that’s right, we have war.  Libra is the sign of conflict as well as peace.  It is the sign of the enemy as well as the partner.  Sometimes the partner turns into the enemy after the falling-in-love blindness fades.  The clearer vision often shows us our own shadows projected onto the other.  Karl Jung suggested that being conscious of our shadows will improve our relationships. What he didn’t tell us is that it takes a lifetime.

In the body, Libra rules the kidneys (organs on either side, in the center of the body) and the bladder.  Be careful of being “pissed off” at your partner or you could get an infection here.  The ears (balanced organs by the middle of the face) and the inner ear, ruling balance, and under Libran rulership.  Mars rules the sight and Venus rules the hearing and it is said and I believe it that men are visual creatures and women love sweet talk.

Since October opens with Mrecury retrograde, this isn’t the time for major purchases or new beginnings.  Especially don’t buy cars or electronics. The Full Moon is October 14th  so remember, no surgeries the 13th, 14th or 15th.  And since the waning room is the time to let go, the latter days of this month are not good for beginnings or purchases either. Wait for more favorable days in November.

At the time of the Full Aries Moon on October 14th we may find ourselves asking where I need to be more assertive (Aries) and where I need to compromise (Libra).  As Stephanie Austin suggests, we often make war before making love.  “We battle each other because we are not at peace with ourselves.”  It’s all a matter of development.  The more I know myself and am at peace with who I am the more I can love another and learn from someone different.

Eris, goddess of discord and strife, closely joins this Full Moon.  Be careful of pushing your agenda too hard.  Everything could blow up on you.  Neptune harmoniously aspects both the Sun and Moon, offering a strong dose of compassion that could soften the hard edges of idealogical differences.

By the time of the New Moon on October 28th, the Sun will be in the deeper and more intense sign of Scorpio, the sign of sex, death, and all mysteries.  We are entering a time of great change where something is dying and something is struggling to be born.  Saturn, planet of form and convention, will opppose Uranus, planet of reform and innovation in November.  The polarization of this elections is demonstration of this tense and powerful opposition.  John McCain is the oldest man (and a white one) ever to be nominated and Barack Obama is the first black candidate and one of the youngest.

The last time these planets opposed was from 1965 to 1967, a time of cultural upheaval.  This was the ’60’s when every tradition was challenged and new spiritual thought came into our society from Eastern religions.  Everything brightened up from the new freedom including the clothes people wore.  Who knows what excitement this current opposition could bring.

The Sabian symbol for this lunation speaks of this time of change:  “The gold rush tears men away from their native soil;  the passionate search for new values which promise a more abundant life.”  Get ready for the adventure of a lifetime.

My career needs to provide:
1.     Lots of time off
2.     Flexibility to live anywhere
3.     A feeling of contributing to society
4.     Money

(Notice that “money” is on the bottom of the list.) I realized after re-reading what I wrote that I was going to be a teacher. I declared my major the next day and applied to the college of education.

I taught 2nd grade for ten years in Rio Rico. I became pretty good at teaching kids how to read and enjoyed using a hands-on approach to math and science. I quit 2 years ago to work full time on the farm. People often ask me if I will ever return to teaching, but the farm takes too much of my time. Instead, I have brought the kids to me! There is no better classroom than a real working farm.

Stewart started the field trips when our own kids were in primary school eight years ago. I was teaching, so he was on his own. He would go over his lectures with me and ask my advice, but he didn’t really need it – he’s a natural teacher. When Desarae was in first grade, she would take off a few “work” days to help out. She commanded great respect in her red cowgirl hat and matching boots as she showed mesmerized kids all the animals and told them the really important things about each one – like what their names were, where it likes to be scratched and what it likes to eat. Those first years we would have 5 -6 classes a week for the month of October. What a difference! This October we have over 3,000 kids booked for their field trip to the pumpkin patch.

What started out as a fun thing to do for our own kid’s classrooms has evolved into a real program. We now feel a responsibility to teach kids about where their food really comes from. I designed a lesson for just this. I put a pile of “junk” into a box and gather the kids around me in a circle. I ask them if they or their families buy things that come from farms. Usually, only one or two kids raise their hands and describe picking apples or pumpkins. Then I move to the “mystery bag” and pull out it’s contents asking the kids to help sort the I items into two groups – “what came from a farm” and “what didn’t come from a farm”. The first item or two are obvious. I pull out a carrot or a small pumpkin. It’s unanimous - “It came from a farm!” they all agree. Then I get a little sneaky and pull out a loaf of bread, a box of cereal or a pair of blue jeans. Invariably, the 5 year olds sort those items into the “not from a farm pile”. Then I pull out an orange and a carton of orange juice and almost every time one or two insightful minds get it! “Hey, they both come from a farm because orange juice is made from oranges and oranges come from a farm!” (This is why teaching is so much fun!).

This of course leads to some revisions and everything (except, usually, the jeans) gets moved into the “came from a farm pile”. It’s very exciting to see the light bulbs go on. Then, after explaining that cotton grows on a farm and that jeans are made of cotton, I finish the lesson where I started and ask, “How many of your families buy things that come from farms?” The hands shoot up. This group of kids has now realized a very important thing – they all have and use and eat things that came from farms - everyday!

Stewart and I hope that we are contributing to the understanding of the importance of farming. With kids, the knowledge of where food (and blue jeans) comes from is just the beginning of a much bigger idea that our adult “students” learn on their tours of the farm. Our adult groups learn about the need for community sustainability through a local food economy. They learn about eating in season. We try to teach them that maybe watermelons in January isn’t sustainable and that we all have a responsibility in this country to reduce our thirst for fossil fuels and the foods transported by them. We encourage people to make a “3 degree shift”. Big changes in lifestyle are hard to adhere to. Through small changes – like having a salad in January instead of that watermelon, or buying one component of a meal from a local farm per week – big changes are made.

Our farm classroom opens on the 6th of October when our first group of kindergarteners will bounce down our dirt road in a school bus excited about pumpkins and hayrides. Hopefully, they will leave here with a little more than that. Hopefully they will go home at the end of the day and look in their refrigerators and point and say, “That came from a farm. That did, too. So did that. And that…” Through the farm I have brought my education training home. I’m still teaching – in a very different classroom.

Hope we see some locals here for our Fall Festival this October!

Agua Linda Farm is a 63 acre family run farm in Amado Arizona. Go to www.AguaLindaFarm.net for more information or contact Stewart and Laurel Loew at 398-3218 or email stewart@AguaLindaFarm.net. Fall Festival Hours are Saturday and Sunday 10 AM-5 PM all month.

When S. F. Noon was a child, the town of (new) Oro Blanco was a stage stop with hotel, store, and mill for the surrounding mining district. As a town, it lasted only a few years, but during that time Fred grew up and attended the one-room school. Along with his four older brothers and younger sister, Fred became bilingual in English and Spanish. This upbringing influenced him for life. When he moved with his parents to up-and-coming Nogales in 1898, he was effectively a self-educated man with a strong interest in law. In those days you “read law” under an established attorney and then passed the bar, which he did in 1904. Fred’s law career began in the same year that the Santa Cruz County Courthouse was dedicated, and where he worked for many years. Fred was appointed Clerk of the District Court in Nogales when Santa Cruz County was established and served there five years. He then was elected District Attorney in Nogales where he served three terms, besides two terms as County Supervisor. He was on the Board of Education and also served as the U. S. Vice-Consul in Nogales, Sonora, besides having a private practice of his own.

In 1903, Fred joined Brodie’s First Cavalry Troop of Nogales, a National Guard unit that was activated to assist in quelling violence during a miners’ strike in Morenci. Apparently they had to buy uniforms but never got paid by the government for their trouble.

During the years that Fred Noon practiced law in Nogales, he was the attorney for a number of people who had dealings with the Land Office (now BLM). The Mexican land grants in the area had been processed through the Court of Private Land Claims and either disallowed or allowed. If they were disallowed, the property was essentially up for grabs, and in some areas homesteading was opened up. But from the time of the Gadsden Purchase until the early 1900s, people had been living on these “land grants” without documents of possession. Many of them were Mexican-Americans and some spoke little English even if they had been born in the United States. Fred Noon became the attorney for a number of people whose land holdings were in jeopardy. Real estate entrepreneurs saw it as an opportunity for cheap land, while Fred had sympathy for hard-working small ranchers and farmers who had lived on the land, sometimes for 30 years or more. He helped them work through the legal system to obtain clear title to their land and forestall the onslaught of land grabbers. Among those in the Arivaca area were Phil Ward and Rita Sanchez de Mora. Rita had married an alleged Mexican citizen, and although she was born in the U. S. and had farmed in Arivaca valley for years and even held water rights, her tenancy was threatened because of her husband’s legal status. Fred was able to show that his status should have no bearing on her property rights because she had not moved with him to Mexico. In those days, if a woman citizen married an alien and went to his country with him, she lost her American citizenship, but if she could prove that she had stayed in the U. S. she could retain it; however, there was a question about this for some time. In fact, Fred showed that Mora had probably been born in the U. S. but spent his childhood in Mexico. People didn’t always have the paperwork necessary to protect their rights. Times were different then, but Rita kept her homestead.

As District Attorney in Nogales, S. Fred Noon was front and center in any case of local interest. One of the more widely publicized cases involved the murder of Tomás Elias by the sons of Charles Proctor. (see the Connection, January 2000) As District Attorney, he prosecuted the case, which ended up finding the Proctors not guilty by reason of self-defense.

S. Fred Noon practiced law in Nogales until 1925, when he moved his family to San Diego, California. He opened a law practice in 1926 and practiced law until almost the day he died at the age of 86. During the years in San Diego he drew on his upbringing in Southern Arizona and fluency in Spanish learned growing up in Oro Blanco. Fred served as counsel to the Mexican Consul. According to an article by Leland Stanford, Fred was considered to be one of the best authorities on Mexican law in the United States. He was considered a friend of the Mexican-American community and would often give free legal counsel to San Diegans who spoke no English. In this capacity, he plays a bit part in Rain of Gold by Victor Villaseñor, providing legal help to Victor’s bootlegging grandfather, the main character. “The potpourri of Spanish-Mexican-American traditions had influenced California’s legal milieu” and into that system Fred Noon found a niche that suited his talents as well as his desire to support justice.

In 1931, Fred Noon was an attorney for the group of Mexican-American parents who filed suit against the Lemon Grove school system against the segregation of their children. This was the first successful legal challenge to school segregation in the United States. Although in this time period there was a large influx of Mexicans immigrating legally into the United States, about 95% of these children had been born in the United States. The parents group had gone to the Mexican consul in San Diego, and he referred them to Fred Noon and A. C. Brinkley for legal help. They successfully won the case in favor of the students. A documentary film was made of this case, called “The Lemon Grove Incident. ”

Fred and his wife Natalie had four children: three daughters, Edith, Virginia and Sarah, and one son, Bonsall, all born in Nogales. Bonsall also became an attorney and practiced with his father in their firm, Noon and Noon. Bonsall became a Superior Court Judge in San Diego.

The Noon family is rightfully proud of “Uncle Fred” who not only provided an example of a lifetime supporting justice, but who also provided a window on Oro Blanco in the 1880s. He took pictures of Oro Blanco in the days when few people had cameras, and often wrote letters of reminiscence regarding his childhood days to his namesake nephew, Fred C. Noon of Arivaca.

For millennia fire swept through much of southern Arizona on an average of about twice per decade.  Our native grasses adapted to this onslaught, developing the ability to bounce back quickly after a fire.  In short, fire determined that grass would be the climax plant community of much of the 3,000’ to 5,0000’ elevations.  Mesquite saplings are not able to withstand the constant onslaught of fire, so for thousands of years mesquite trees have been relegated to areas where fire didn’t often reach.  However, given time to become established, mesquite can tolerate fire to some extent and with native animals continually dispersing its seed, mesquite was always able to gain new footholds here and there while losing them elsewhere.

Native Americans understood that grass supports a much wider array of game than mesquite and these folks may have played a role in aiding fires much as native peoples still do in many parts of the world today.  Our native Masked Bobwhite quail is a good example of a game species whose population increases after a fire.

In the latter half of the 1800’s, white man came along and threw a monkey wrench into this finely tuned ecosystem in the form of cattle.  Cattle were allowed to increase in numbers far greater than the fragile grasslands could tolerate and within a few decades much of the grass was gone (along with countless tons of topsoil), leaving insufficient fuel for its creator.  Pressed for food due to lack of their natural food source (grass), cattle began to browse on mesquite pods.

It just so happens that mesquite seeds need to be scarified to germinate.  Scarification is botanical lingo referring to the process of etching the hard ectoderm of the seed to allow water to penetrate and cause germination.  Mold usually accomplishes this task, but being stepped on by a large animals hoof or rolling down a rushing arroyo can also accomplish etching.   It turns out that passing through the digestive system of a cow or bull accomplishes scarification exceedingly well.  In fact this ecosystem never saw a more efficient way of distributing mesquite, thanks to the fact that the seeds are passed out inside a pile of perfect growing medium. This - combined with insufficient grass to fuel fires - is how the very animal the ranchers brought here to eat grass are still to this day turning the grasslands into mesquite bosques.

This newly altered ecosystem is more of a curse than a blessing because; native wildlife dependent on vast grasslands are in decline, mesquite taps more groundwater than grass, grass serves to prevent soil erosion better than mesquite, grass slows rainwater runoff better allowing more to soak in and recharge the aquifer, grass is a better soil builder and of course grass supports much more game (another local food source - another column) and a wider array of non-game species.

On the plus side; we get to harvest more mesquite pods.  When left with lemons, make lemonade.

Because mesquite trees flower and begin to set pods during the dry months just before the monsoon begins, the setting of pods is highly dependent on winter rains.  The springs of 2006 and 2007 saw very few pods due to very dry winters.  Although the winter of 2007/2008 was not exceedingly wet, there was sufficient rain to enable a decent pod set this year.  Some trees in low lying areas or near the downspout of your rain gutters received enough extra moisture to set heavily.

Pods are ripe when they are easily pulled from the tree. If you have to pull hard enough to bend the branch, its not ready.  Like most fruit, the pod will be sweeter and more nutritious when left to ripen on the tree.  Look for pods that are not discolored and have no insect damage or bird droppings on them.  If the pods have a black mold on them, discard them.  These molds may contain carcinogenic aflatoxins.  Brown spots are often due to mesquite beetles probing the green pod for juice.  These pods will not be as sweet and should be avoided.  Before pods can be milled they have to be dry enough to snap crisply when bent.  If it has rained recently pods can absorb enough moisture from the air to be too wet to mill, even if they are kept inside.  If your freshly harvested pods are not snapping dry, lay them out in the sun on a screen to dry before storing.  To avoid rodent and insect damage, store in tightly closed containers.

Bruchid or bean beetles are a major pest on mesquite pods.  There are three species in southern Arizona; Stater limbstus, Mimosestes amicus and Mimosestes alkei.  The latter two lay eggs on the pod.  When the eggs hatch the larvae burrow into the pod with adults emerging through the holes left by the larvae.  The former species enters the pod through the burrow left be the latter two and lays eggs directly onto the seed.  Many of the pods you harvest will have eggs on them with the larvae doing their thing well after you have put your pods into storage.  This is why you may be greeted by hundreds of bruchid beetles when storage containers are opened days or weeks later. For this reason it’s often better to mill earlier rather than later.  Contact me at katbambu@hotmail.com for information about milling.

As Virgo matures, her wings lift her. She realizes that her job is to bring a piece of Heaven onto Earth and how hard—nearly impossible, she finds – it is. She learns to compartmentalize and analyze and she learns to discriminate instead of criticize. She infuses her good judgment with compassion which she learns from her opposite sign, Pisces.

The purposes of the Virgo life are many. For one thing, the Virgin Goddess is in charge of the harvest where her gifts of efficiency and discrimination are of high priority. Crops must be picked at the right time, the wheat separated from the chaff. The work is so hard and long it is no wonder Virgo has gotten a bad reputation in modern times where pleasure and instant gratification are the goals. But someone has to do the hard work. It takes someone with wings.

Virgo is in charge of the health and hygiene of the physical body. Virgo rules the cells, the individual components of the body. All health caregivers are under the guidance of the pure and holy virgin goddess. Have you noticed the little wings on nurses?

Virgo is in charge of clean-up. Following that loud and wildly extravagant and creative Leo, someone has to rein matters in. The novel has to be edited. The chef must refine the seasonings. The garden must be weeded. The party mess has to be cleaned up. Who could be happy with this job but an angel?

And Virgo has a secret: work is really a gift. Work brings us into the present where time meets eternity. Work requires focus, pinning the punishing mind to something outside itself. Inner peace is the result. It was probably a Virgo who first said that the idle mind is the devil’s workshop. Without the focus of work, man suffers.

And Virgo has another secret: you can work or be sick. Hypochondria is a disease of the lazy or of those who fancy themselves too good or too special to work.

Mercury is the ruling planet of Virgo, but now the mental realm of the planet of communication is brought through the hands and fingers into the practical realm. Ideas are Gemini. Writing down ideas is Virgo. Early images of the Harvest Goddess show her with a quill in her hand.

The fingertips are ruled by Virgo. This is where we connect to the earth through sensory touch. The fingertips are filled with nerves and unusual sensitivity. Virgos are also very sensitive. Their judgment can be trusted.

Because it is Virgo’s job to sort and assimilate, the virgin goddess also rules digestion, especially the small intestine where nutrients are sorted from waste.

Virgo is the second earth sign, assuring us that despite the spinster stereotype, the Virgin is sexy. The word virgin originally referred to a woman who was whole unto herself. The Vestal Virgins initiated young men into the world of sexuality. The virgin doesn’t need a man for her identity, though she may and likely does enjoy his offerings of pleasure.

Please don’t criticize the Virgos in your life. It is so, so painful for them. They were born to mothers who nagged and criticized their fathers, according to astrologer Nancy Cohen. Being willing to overlook, goes a long way here.

The big celestial news this month is this: besides the change of season, three planets change direction. On September 7th, Jupiter turns direct in Capricorn, signaling it’s time to take that new inner authority you have found and test it in the world. If you are brave enough, your power will be supported the very next day when the light turns green on the outer edge of the solar system and Pluto gets going again. Faith in yourself will give a big payoff.

On September 24th, soon after the autumnal equinox, Mercury turns retrograde at 23 degrees Libra. The Sabian symbol for this degree: Chanticleer’s voice heralds the sunrise. Since Mercury is turning backward, perhaps the rooster’s crowing is premature or prideful. Better get your information straight and make careful revisions before presenting yourself. Best to come out after October 30th when Mercury returns to the 23rd degree of Libra then Chanticleer can crow with confidence.

The first half of September is filled with days for new beginnings and major purchases; the 1st, 2nd, and 6th are favorable as well as the afternoon of the 8th and the morning of the 9th and all day the 11th and 12th. Avoid surgeries the three days around the Full Moon of September 15th. September 26th and 27th are the best days all year for body cleanses and fasts.

The Full Moon on September 15th, also called the Harvest Moon, is the biggest and brightest of all Full Moons, offering enough light for picking crops into the night if necessary. This year it will be at 23 degrees of Pisces: A medium giving a séance. The symbol for the Sun at 23 degrees Virgo: A lion tamer displays his skills. Regardless of the realm you work in, now is the time to give everything. After a successful séance, the medium is spent. The lion tamer will pay with his life if he isn’t totally prepared and present. Give full commitment now. A powerful electric impulse strikes right before Full Moon, supplying surprising insight and the energy to get going.

Saturn and Jupiter, both in earth signs, are in good aspect and support commitment. Since the personal planets of Mercury, Venus, and Mars are all in Libra, this commitment will likely be in the area of relationship. Soon after opposing the Sun, this big moon moves to square Pluto, energizing endings if commitment isn’t possible. Give fully or move on.

By month’s end, the Moon will join the Sun and Mercury and Mars in Libra. There is only war or peace now. Jupiter making a harsh aspect from Capricorn warns us against personal and inflated pride, a killer of relationship. The Sabian symbol for this lunation: A blazing fireplace in a deserted home. In times of decision making or crisis, return to the fire within. Our spiritual power is always available even when we have been apparently deserted.

This morning’s stroll took us past cucumbers and summer squash that will need to be harvested. We walked to the pumpkin patch where the weeds are as tall as me. We did not attempt to pull any of them up as the plants look healthy despite the weed competition. They have trellised up the stalks of the weeds and are fruiting. We will have great winter squash. However, as we walked we noticed something else - grasshoppers were springing off the ground like corn popping and we thought of the vulnerable new seedlings that have just surfaced in another plot. Today we had to make a tough decision.
We have been delivering shares of our foods to 160 members all summer and had hoped to increase to 200 for the fall season, September through November. CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) members pay us for the entire season before it starts. It has been a wonderful program for us. It eliminates the need to spend hours pushing sales. With CSA, we know all of our crops are paid for. Our members get a weekly bag filled with the freshest produce possible grown organically right down the road. Our members have been very happy and the program has truly saved our farm.

Grasshoppers brought us back to the house for a “meeting.” Every five to seven years we get grasshoppers in biblical proportions. There is little we can do to control them organically. Grasshopper invasions have taken us down in years past, but this year we have commitments like never before. I reminded Stewart that part of the arrangement with our CSA members is that they assume the risk with us. It was too soon to know for sure if this was going to be a big grasshopper year, maybe we should proceed. However, there was still time to back out, since, at the time of this conversation, our fall distribution would not start for another two weeks. We decided to cut our CSA numbers in half. We determined that with the greenhouse we could protect enough crops for 60 to 80 members, but not 160. I sent out an email to our members at the Tucson CSA drop off and told them the news. Much of our pressures and fears were eliminated by this decision, but relief was soon replaced by a sick feeling in my stomach. What if we are reacting too fast? What if we end up with a surplus – where would we sell it? What if people choose not to sign with us next year since we cancelled on them this fall? How are we going to pay our bills without those checks? Well, it’s too late - the decision is made. Email sent out. People disappointed. Once again, I find myself questioning our sanity. Farming is hard – even without grasshopper invasions.

Fortunately, on the horizon looms OCTOBER.

October? This is when a visit to the farm is an event. Pumpkins bring people from all over Arizona to capture the feeling of fall by taking the kids to pick a pumpkin, go on a hayride, pet animals and eat good food at our Fall Festival.

Last year we had a staff of 28 people on the weekends helping us to put on the show. 500 cars were parked in the pasture on one Saturday. Interviews with TV stations and newspapers were on the schedule weekly. 2,000 school kids came in the span of three weeks for their annual field trip. Stewart and I shed 25 pounds collectively. The pace is daunting! The stress, unbelievable!

It’s also fun! Most of the October staff are family and friends; many have helped with the festival for years. Weekends feel like camp. My mother-in-law, Regina, opens up the hacienda’s extra rooms for people to sleep; some bring travel trailers; others camp out. In the mornings, we gather for a big breakfast that Maria Leon, Regina’s housekeeper, comes in early to cook. On Saturday nights, we are exhausted, but adrenaline keeps us up laughing and recalling the day as the music gets cranked up and the “Garden Grill” stays open–cooking up our farm raised beef burgers for the staff to enjoy. My kids are neglected all month and they love it. They come home from school and order dinner at the grill. They take dozens of hayrides and show visiting kids the way through the maze. Families have a great time, and we enjoy their words of praise.

This evening, we will walk the property to map out the set up for the festival. Very different kinds of decisions need to be made–where to set up the maze, where to park cars, etc. The Fall Festival will help us to get through this season. The grasshoppers will be gone in November and we will start again. Insane!

Chilled Cucumber Soup
2 large cucumbers, peeled, seeded, and grated with a box grater or food processor
1 finely minced garlic clove
a half-palmful of minced, fresh dill
2/3 cup thick sour cream
2/3 cup whole-milk yogurt
1/2 box chicken broth
salt and white pepper (if you have it, black if you don’t) to taste

Combine all ingredients, stir to blend, and chill. Serve topped with any of the following (or combination thereof): chopped cucumber, fresh dill or mint, a dollop of sour cream or yogurt, diced avocado, snipped chives or green onions. Serves four.

Agua Linda Farm is a 63 acre family run farm in Amado Arizona. Go to www.AguaLindaFarm.net for more information or contact Stewart and Laurel Loew at 398-3218 or email stewart@AguaLindaFarm.net. The farm is open to the public Saturdays 9am – 3pm and Sundays noon to 3pm.

Ramón Ahumada was born in Batuc in the Altar District of Sonora in 1868, the son of Jose Ahumada. His uncle, Jose Vega, was mayordomo on the Arivaca Ranch in its earliest years. Vega brought Ramón to Arivaca when he was just a young boy, and raised him to follow in his footsteps. Ramon became mayordomo before he was 21 years old. When the Arivaca Land and Cattle Company was incorporated by Noah C. Bernard, John Bogan, George Pusch, John Zellweger and Ramón Ahumada, the principals were blessed with business savvy, personality, ambition, and in the case of Ahumada, the ability to manage cattle on a large scale. Thus the company was able to expand until it was one of the biggest operations in Southern Arizona.

In those days there were few fences and cattle roamed at will. As Phil Clarke said, “Cattle roamed from hell to breakfast before barbed wire came into general use. The cattle were wild and so were the cowboys.” The annual roundup was a community affair in which all the ranchers and cowboys gathered the cattle, separated and branded the calves. According to an extensive article in the Arizona Cattlelog, Ramón was frequently chosen to boss these roundups, because of his ability to manage cattle and men as well. “Sometimes as many as 5,000 cattle would be sorted in one day, with a crew of from 70 to 80 men. Ahumada would break his crew down into four wagons, assigning one group to work certain valleys of the Baboquivari foothills, another towards the east in the Atascosas, and so on, covering an up-country sweep 40 miles wide over countless hills, arroyos, flats and mountains. As the sorted and gathered bunches were driven in to the day’s campsite, the confusion to almost everybody would seem complete. But as the sun went down, order would gradually emerge, the calves being driven off in one direction, various bunches of 2 and 3-year old steers being merged into one driving herd, the mother cows, minus their calves, trailing off for their more familiar ranges, and other bunches going off under a little guidance from the cowboys to just where their owners wanted them. Old-timers still marvel at Ahumada’s timing…. Ahumada had a knack for handling men, assigning jobs to the various owners and cowboys alike with such courteous tact that they seldom realized they were being ‘bossed.’” Phil Clarke, who, along with Jack McVey, Luis Romero and probably many others, looked upon Ramón as his mentor, said that “Ramón was a genius at organization. Every man was assigned to a job, which included roping, branding, cutting out the strays, wrangling the remuda and collecting the beef herd. It looked like all dust and confusion, but Ramón’s men got the job done.”

“The knowledge displayed by Ahumada in the identification of cattle brands was regarded as little short of marvelous by cattlemen and cattle inspectors. The man had an uncanny instinct for correctly tracing a badly blurred brand, an instinct that was of inestimable value to owners and inspectors when the mystery of an animal’s marking required unraveling. He knew all the brands of the southwest range and would frequently sit at the elbow of a cattle inspector correctly identifying brands when there were as many as 40 or 50 different marks on a mixed herd of livestock. His identification in this respect was never questioned.” (Tucson Citizen, 1/13/26)

“Like most Mexican vaqueros, Ramón Ahumada’s horsemanship was superb. He rode with that easy grace and effortless dash which somehow inspires an alert horse to extra effort. And he frequently rode the same horse all day. The Texans who had ‘invaded’ the Altar Valley after 1914 or so, would express their disapproval of riding the same horse 60 or 80 miles in one day when others were available, But Ahumada and his Mexican cowboys’ horsemanship, compared with the stiffly erect, somewhat strained, I-am-the-boss Texas style, left each Arivaca man’s horse fresher after a day’s work than those used by the Tejanos, relay fashion.” (Arizona Cattlelog)

The Arivaca Ranch horses were of excellent stock, Standardbred-Thoroughbred crosses, imported from out of state. Ramón knew them all by name, and was responsible for training them so that they could be used on the ranch or sold to be polo ponies.

Ramón was married to the beautiful Virginia Zepeda, a member of the Moraga family, whose ancestors had included the co-founder of San Francisco and the captain of the Presidio at Tucson during Spanish times. She was the great-aunt of baseball pitcher Alex Kellner. She died in Tucson in 1954 at the age of 86.

Everyone seemed to have a story to tell about Ramón. Fred Noon was always impressed with his silver mounted saddle and bridle, which was once prominently displayed in the window of a store in Tucson and now reposes in the Arizona Historical Society Museum. One possibly apocryphal story said that when Gabriel Angulo praised this set, Ramón gave it to him, but perhaps this was only an illustration of his fabled generosity.

Phil Clarke admired his ability to talk his way out of bad situations, telling how he once mediated a difficult encounter with some Yaqui Indians who had been found butchering a company calf. Not sure of his welcome, and noting a number of Yaquis in the trees surrounding the illegal activity, Ramon went down to have a talk. A few minutes later they had given him the loin, but he had left the Yaquis with dinner and enough jerky to keep going. No one shot him in the back and they even left the hide so it could be counted, as he had requested.

As Ramón Ahumada had lived by the horse, so he died. Luis Romero, Arivaca Ranch cowboy who was as close to Ramón as a son, told of an accident, the results of which eventually claimed his life. They were riding in the Jalisco country near Clifford Well when Luis’ horse threw him. Ramón roped it, using his 60 foot reata, but in the process was thrown off his own horse and hit his head on a rock. Six months later, he had apparently recovered from this accident when he suddenly became ill and was taken to Tucson to the hospital. The Spanish language paper reported daily on his progress, but sadly he succumbed, an untimely death at the age of 56 on January 13, 1926. Not forgotten, however, so that when the National Cowboy Hall of Fame was created in 1958, Ramón Ahumada’s name was enthusiastically submitted with the first group of inductees. And I’m sure that somewhere in Southern Arizona, someone has sung a corrido in honor of Arivaca’s most famous vaquero.

References:
Arizona Cattlelog cover article, Jan. 1958; “The Old West Disappeared,” interview with Phil Clarke in a Tucson Citizen article commemorating Arizona statehood, 2/14/1962; Old California Cowboys by Dane Coolidge; obituaries in El Tucsonense and Arizona Daily Star, 1/14/26; Fred Noon’s notes; Thanks to John Kellner, nephew of Virginia; Bob Teso, grandson of Luis Romero; Oscar Morales of the Moraga family, and Jerri Stone at the National Cowboy Hall of Fame, Center for the Study of the Western Experience Research Center, Oklahoma City, OK.