Good morning,
Today I come with a delicate but important topic...
The poison you don't see: When they spray in the air
Do you think I'm exaggerating when I say they're poisoning us? Just read a little and you'll realize I'm not.
A poorly executed spray, like the one I saw these days, is lethal to any ecosystem, when the wind blows, when the heat is intense, with inadequate nozzles or with drops that are too fine. All of this creates drift. An invisible cloud that escapes from the crop and wanders through the neighborhood without buying a ticket. And the worst thing is that you don't always see it, but it's there.
What happens to the soil when something it shouldn't get on it does? Well, the good folks living there die. Nitrogen-fixing bacteria, friendly fungi that help the roots, all that tiny army that makes the earth fertile. Without them, the soil becomes impoverished, plants become weaker, and, surprise, more pests appear. It's a vicious cycle.
Water doesn't escape either. If it rains after a bad spray, the excess runs off and reaches irrigation ditches, rivers, and, eventually, aquifers. And what gets in there stays for years. Then it passes to fish, birds, and, once again, moves up the food chain. You don't have to be a scientist to understand that water should carry life, not waste.
And now for the most uncomfortable part. Our bodies. Chronic exposure to tiny doses, what they call the cocktail effect, isn't noticeable today, but it adds up over the years. It can cause irritation, headaches, and hormonal problems. In children and pregnant women, the risk is greater, because their bodies are still developing. If you mix several substances, the result isn't always one plus one. Sometimes the mix hits harder than each thing individually.
You might be wondering where the fault lies. It's not that the farmer is bad. It's the system, the rush, the lack of good weather windows, and poor training. Technical work, when done poorly, becomes an environmental and health problem. And also an ethical one, because in the end, it affects what we all share: air, soil, and water.
There are simple things that make a difference. Waiting for cooler hours. Measuring the wind and, if it's really blowing, putting the machine away. Adjusting nozzles so that the droplet is medium-sized, neither spraying mist nor throwing liquid pebbles. Lowering the pressure when necessary. Leaving safety margins next to roads and houses. Checking the forecast, because the 24 to 72 hours afterward are critical if it rains. And not spraying on absolutely calm nights with accumulated heat. It seems like little, but it's gold.
At Campos del Abuelo, we work with purpose. With fellow farmers from all over Spain who share this way of caring. What reaches your home goes from the tree to your kitchen, harvested to order every morning, and that allows us to avoid experiments. Less time in limbo and more flavor on the plate. When any task needs to be done in the field, it's done thoughtfully, at the right time, and without turning the air into an aerosol of problems.
If you ever see someone spraying in the wind, kindly tell them that we are not windmills here. A timely gesture is worth more than a thousand speeches. And if your curiosity has been piqued and you want me to tell you in another newsletter how we measure droplet size without pulling a microscope out of our pocket, let me know. That also has its intricacies and a couple of grandpa's tricks 💧
Thank you for being there, for supporting artisanal work, and for helping us defend a fair price for those who care for the land. We continue with our work, reviewing orders at dawn and harvesting at the rhythm of the countryside, as always.
A big hug and see you next week.
