Good morning!
How's your summer going? Here in Valencia, we're going through a period that we in the countryside know very well: the obligatory August shutdown.
No, it's not that we all go to the beach with an umbrella and a tortilla sandwich (though we'd love to), it's that literally you can't work at certain times. After 11 in the morning, the field becomes a giant toaster where not even lizards dare to come out.
But even in the middle of the Valencian oven, work doesn't stop completely. In August, being a farmer is like being a ninja: wake up early, do just enough before the sun gets too strong, and then disappear.
Let me tell you a bit about what we are doing (and what we can't do) with our orange, persimmon, and avocado trees, which are also trying to survive this intense heat.
Let's break it down.
Orange trees at this time are in full fruit growth. There are still months until the winter harvest, but August is critical: if they lack water or if the tree suffers, the orange can fall off or not grow properly.
That's why the tasks we do are few but very important: checking that the irrigation works like clockwork —very fine drip, first thing in the morning— and observing the trees to detect signs of water stress or asphyxia. No pruning or sudden movements. If you touch the orange tree too much in August, it looks at you as if to say: "we can talk about it in September."
With persimmons, something curious happens. Unlike orange trees, these already have a lot of fruit hanging, and the tree is in "okay, how many children can I feed?" mode. So part of the work is thinning out (I've told you about this on another occasion, it's removing some small fruits so that the remaining ones grow healthy and beautiful).
But of course, this is done first thing in the morning or we all melt. And once thinned, the best thing you can do is go to the shade and let the tree do its thing.
And then we get to the most "delicate" of all: the avocado. Although it comes from warm climates, it's a bit dramatic with dry heat. Its roots are very superficial and any neglect with irrigation, boom!, it suffers.
In August, we handle them with kid gloves: fractionated irrigation multiple times a day (because if you give it all at once, you're out of the club), mulching to protect the roots from the heat, and no disturbing them.
At most, I sing some Camarón to them when I pass by, to see if it cheers them up...
Another important point in summer is not to do transplants or grafts. If you're thinking of grafting a tree, it's better to wait until autumn or spring. In the middle of August, that would be like having an appendectomy in the middle of the desert without anesthesia.
As you can see, even when it seems like nothing is being done, in August we work at a different pace: that of the heat, that of care. We listen to the field. It's not all about working hard; there's also a lot of observing, not getting in the way, and accompanying.
Just like we do with our growing avocado trees:
Thank you for continuing to support us and for waiting for us until next season.
The fact that you buy our fruits directly from those of us who grow them makes this work worthwhile, even when the sun is in "microwave on grill mode."
A big hug and see you next week,
from Abuelo's (scorching hot) fields!
