Hello, hello, happy start to the week!
Here in Valencia, we're still at the foot of the tree, literally.
Today I want to tell you something that not only our customers but also fellow citrus growers have asked us: how oranges adapt to climate change, something we are facing a lot these days.
Here, the interesting thing is to consider whether it's about adaptation or resistance.
I'm going to tell you about it, but first, let me share a memory: in the countryside, my grandfather used to repeat a phrase that now comes to me naturally: no two harvests are ever the same.
The weather has always been a capricious artist. One year it gives you a textbook winter, and the next it arrives late, like the subway on a Monday. Now we notice more extremes, more heatwaves, more torrential rains, and unusual nights.
And what does the orange tree do? Well, the same thing it has always done since it became an orange tree, it adapts. It's a living being and it learns.
The first year with a strong change is noticeable; some flowers might fall, the fruit grows slower, or the skin gets marked. The second year, it readjusts, puts down roots where needed, adjusts its canopy to provide shade, and gets back into rhythm. By the third year, it has understood the whole picture.
I'll tell you how it defends itself, in simple terms. If the heat is intense when it's in bloom, the tree sheds some of those flowers. This isn't bad luck; it's intelligence, as it reduces the weight it wouldn't be able to water with its available water. During a summer heatwave, the orange tree closes the pores of its leaves, just like you turn off the tap to save water.
The fruit might stop growing for a few days and then, when it cools down, continue as if nothing happened. If a dry west wind blows, the canopy turns into an umbrella and protects the fruits. And when we get a heavy downpour, the challenge is underground; the roots need air not to drown.
That's why we take care of the soil, keeping it spongy, alive, with ground cover when possible, and we don't punish it by running machinery over it when it's soft. The wisdom of the countryside is older than us and it works: short steps and a long view.
In the end, the secret is to support the tree. It sets the pace, and we dance with it, even if sometimes it steps on our toes. 🍊
So: Resist or adapt? In the countryside, we usually say that resisting is gritting your teeth and that's it, adapting is understanding what's happening and changing your stride without losing rhythm. Nature always settles accounts because it is wise.
I've seen orange trees bent by the wind bloom again as if it were a brand new spring. After a tough year, I've seen a recovery you wouldn't believe. And I've also seen that when you help it with common sense, it returns it multiplied.
The key is in us, in how we respond. Treating water like gold, protecting the soil, planting living windbreaks, diversifying farms, observing more and rushing less. And, above all, maintaining that way of working we inherited, artisanal and with care, which allows us to make decisions by the tree and not in an office.
Here, every box begins with a walk through the rows at dawn and ends up on your table in a heartbeat. That's the thread we don't want to cut, because thanks to you, the countryside stays alive, and the hands that care for it can continue.
Nature is much bigger than us. It will continue to exist in its own way even as everything changes. The challenge is ours, to learn to live with those changes without losing our way.
Our role is to listen to it, respect it, and rise to the occasion. And if, in the process, you take home an orange that makes you close your eyes with pleasure, all the better.
If you feel like it, we're here for you. Tomorrow at dawn, I'll review the orders again and go out to pick yours, as I do every day.
Thank you for supporting Spanish agriculture and for reading us with a smile; that also nourishes us.
Until next week, a big hug from Valencia,
