The Pear Tree

Marc in 2012 in the pear tree

There is a pear tree that used to exist on our old farm in Cincinnati, but that doesn't exist anymore. It feels silly to say, but I still think about it from time to time. I recently visited the site where it was and had to sigh when I saw the bare hill of clay that was now the side of a retention pond for a subdivision under construction. It took 2 years for me to prepare myself to be able to return to that spot. At some level, the destruction of the tree made sense, there was a much higher dollar value in that land as home lots, and as a lessor I was not the one to ultimately choose the fate of that space. The tree occupied a space in our yard, at the bottom of a hill, below a drafty farmhouse from the 20's that was as cozy as it was cold. Everyone I talked to that had grown up around there could not remember when it was planted, but they could remember picking its fruit, making jam, or simply seeing it every day as they drove by.

Remembering all of the snacks, shade, and fun that this tree brought me, I'd like to start a unique joint enterprise between Flatwater Farms and River Saint Joe, where a pear tree is our first, but not our last order of business. It will be called the Tree Garden Tap, and the idea is that we will collectively and slowly invest in a space, starting out just north of the River Saint Joe parking lot, and building outward to where the future takes us, and to where we take the future. No rational farmer would start out planting food trees and bushes like this, with species all intermixed, with plants that mature at all different times, with all different uses and flavors, with the raspberry tucked under the persimmon. There is likely to be some failing due to trial, and perhaps there will be some success that could last beyond our lifespans.

All of our future endeavors will not look like this unique project. Elsewhere, we will use the plow, and we will use technology, and we will plant other parts of the farm with single groupings of one species. With all that being said, though, I think we would be missing something at the farm and brewery if we don't also try out a different concept, one that doesn't look just to the creation of one crop or market, but rather one that looks at the creation of a new space of abundance, enjoyment, diversity, shade, and beauty. But we can't do it alone, we need you all. Such endeavors through history (and there are examples https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/what-is-permaculture-food-forests) have not generally been solo endeavors. Some have failed spectacularly such as the Transcendentalists "Fruitlands" experiment near Concord, MA in the 1840's. (https://thetrustees.org/place/fruitlands-museum/). So, we'll try our own and see where it goes.

For our pear tree in Cincinnati, I asked a local fruit grower what the variety might be, and she said that it was likely unnamed. Farm families in the past would often plant a storage pear tree, she told me. The fruit of these typical farmhouse pears would get harvested off the tree hard and with minimal flavor. However, it would get sweeter and sweeter with storage. And so it was with this tree. The pears had strange small pits in them, and they were all different sizes with spots all over, but after two weeks in the refrigerator, they would yellow somewhat and taste wonderful. This tree showed some alternate bearing, but in the "on" years, if my memory does not deceive me, it would produce as much as 500 pounds of fruit that we could box up and sell to our customers, or that I could grab as a snack starting around thanksgiving. I associate its fruit with Thanksgiving turkey pickups, with a cold barn and changing leaves, pumpkin pie, and the last of the tomatoes. I remember mowing around it each year and climbing it to pick its fruit onto our old John Deere hay wagon. It was my fun time of the day, where I could climb a tree and see the farm from a different, high-up perspective. High in those branches, I would think about who may have been in that same spot, perhaps before even cars were invented. So much of my day was so serious and rushed, this was fun, and casual.

I think it grew so well because the land around it had probably never been worked. It was just uphill from the base of a small south facing hill, where many trees seem to thrive. It received partial shade and leaf fall from a forest that used to be on the other side of the road, and that we also witnessed being cut down. Those leaves and the deer manure were all it needed. Perhaps the pear was planted in the 1800's by the owner of the house that came before our old 1920's house. Who knows. It was likely there long before 100,000 people moved nearby.

I similarly remember an apple tree where we climbed as kids in Indiana and we would try to peddle crate after crate of irregular apples to the neighbors. There were also the 2 currant bushes that sat just outside of the window of a summer camp in Vermont where I worked in the summers of my college years. In the morning, we could pick currants for our cereal, and I remember being so amazed at the abundance of 2 small bushes that could provide daily snacks for 15 or 20 people. Cold vermont mornings, wildflowers, and games of volleyball. That currant bush may be long gone, but it is still in my memories.

I think we probably all have trees and spaces like this that we remember. Perhaps there is something in our mind or heart that immediately calls us to remember these abundant plants because they are so tied to our survival. It's hard to know how or where to plant them, or where they will end up in 10, 20, or 200 years. Perhaps we don't need to know. Sometimes, we just need to plant. I'm grateful for whoever planted that pear, and I'm grateful for Fran and the crew at River St. Joe for the opportunity to plant these first species.

I recently read about a brewery that uses a portion of its proceeds to plant trees. It's a great idea, but I wonder, where in this broad world are those trees? How can we enjoy them and who gets to enjoy them? What will happen to them in 10 years? Who will care for them when a rabbit would like to eat their sapling bark, or a deer wants to rub on them or a bulldozer wants to push them? Who will mow the sticker bushes away until they are established. Which bushes will be near them and work with them in symbiosis so that they produce abundantly and without fertilizer, like a mature and healthy forest? What species will move in, and how will they compete with grasses and weeds? Who will manage the changing landscape? Will sheep or deer eat underneath of it? Will they rub the bark? Who will water them if there is a drought when they are young, and who owns the land? Who benefits from the tree, and when or will they cut it down? Who will sit under it and enjoy the shade?

The problem with focusing on all of these questions, though, is when I get to the end of this list, the complexity is too great, and the costs are too hard to justify, The payoff could be more than a decade out. These questions listed above are good, but they may take time to answer, and we don't need to know now. Sometimes, we just need to start, to Hop Tuite as Fran says ;).

As a farmer, when I think about designing an orchard or a garden, my rational mind thinks about labor costs and markets. I want to plant dwarf trees of the same type, in straight lines. I want to kill the weeds near the tree or vegetable, and I want to figure out ways to eventually harvest with a machine. I want to sell someday to grocery stores with enough leftover to sell on sight. There is a beauty and a logic to this system, and a place for it. I'm sure that we will do many plantings of a variety of crops, including more hops, where the system is designed for the machine. It makes sense.

However, there is also a place for imagination and design, and even whimsy, for the creation of a space of enjoyment and exploration. There is a place to think about short term profits, and there is a place to think about the creation of something that could be here for over a hundred years, like that pear tree. There is a place to space plants for the machine, and there is a place to plant for the walker.

So what might it all look like. The basic idea is this:

One River Saint Joe tap is called the "Tree Garden Tap". For every beer purchased on this tap $1 will go to fund the purchase, establishment, and maintenance of an edible garden of unique trees and bushes throughout the year, planted with observant eyes and creative minds, starting this spring. We will start with the pear, but also move to persimmons, paw paws, hazelnuts, blackberries, currants, black raspberries, perry pears, cider apples, crabapples, walnuts, mulberries, peaches, asparagus, chestnuts, apricots, peaches, plums, gooseberries, elderberry, mulberry, serviceberries, sugar maples and whatever else sounds good. You may find some in your River Saint Joe desserts someday in 5 or 15 years, or in brew from the brewery, or you may pick one from your flying car, I don't know. There will be at least one bench, and probably a woodchip trail. It will start just north of the parking lot and move north from there. For the time being, the dollar proceeds from every beer will create 5 square feet of Tree Garden. In other words, buy 5 beers for your table, and next year you are likely to see 25 more square feet of Tree Garden as you park your car. Your name won't go on it, but it will be there, and you can watch it grow and know that you contributed. Then you could buy another beer to see it expand...The trees will generally be planted at about a half rate of a normal orchard to create an edge effect throughout the garden. We will focus on diversity, unique species of high flavor, understory and overstory and the belowground. We will try the perry pear that takes 10 years to start producing. We will try Ashmead's Kernel, an apple from the 1700's, and Newtown Pippin, George Washington's favorite apple. We will see if a grape will climb a persimmon. We will figure out how much shade is the right amount of shade for a currant bush. We will make a beer from maple sap.We will track our progress, share what we learn, and invite you to sit on that bench or walk on that woodchip trail. In the beginning, the trail will be 10 feet long, but I expect it to grow in time.

Will you try a Tree Garden Tap beer and join us in this experiment? What trees or bushes have meant something special to you, and why? What do you want to see in the Tree Garden? Vote for some when you purchase a Tree Garden Tap drink.