spartan it may have been , was socially , spiritually , and artistically rich as well as deeply meaningful . Moreover , this all took place in an awesomely beautiful landscape with infinite vistas and a piercing diamond light that illumined both body and soul . Another feature of our traditional way of life that persisted into the second half of the twentieth century , was a symbiotic relationship forged between the agricultural Pueblo Indian and Spanish-Mexican peoples after the initial period of conflict had died down . Close social relations , combined religious observances and common agricultural pursuits were the hallmarks of this intriguing development so rare or non-existent in other parts of the United States .
I was lucky to have caught the tail end of this historic way of life without suspecting that much of it would disappear with the growing modernization of the region . In my estimation , there is much of value in the agricultural way of life that we practiced . Among the things I cherish most , is the authenticity of every move that one makes as a farmer . Nothing is ever trivial and every task is purposeful . I also value the integrity of the materials which one handles and uses — soil , seed , water , farm tools , plants and , at the end of the growing season , the gloriously-looking and rich-tasting specimens of harvest . Of course , I also hold dear the genuineness of human communication , interaction and cooperation which this way of life presupposes among those willing to pursue farming in a collective , regenerative and labor-intensive fashion .
Ultimately , what brings me the greatest satisfaction is the way in which farming ties me to the ground and the seasons , and connects me to the raw , natural forces of the universe — the wind , the rain and the sunlight together with the ebb and flow of the life force embedded deep within nature . Witnessing and participating in the biological life cycle of plants is also a most wondrous experience . Indeed , I feel strongest and happiest when I am working on the land and bestowing upon it all the care , love and reverence which my being is able to summon . At such times , I become one with the earth , forget that there is a “ me ” and connect fully to the highest order of things in the universe . The compensation for such efforts , are of course , heaps of food !
By the mid 1970s , powerful forces threatening our way of life had appeared on the horizon . Much to my family ’ s surprise , one day , two of our closest farming neighbors sold out to developers . Within a few short months , track housing , paved streets and street lights had all made their debut where formerly , there had only been apple orchards . Soon thereafter , other aging farmers all up and down our street , whose children had emigrated to California where wages were higher , followed suit and sold their farms to the highest bidder as well . Needless to say , we were shocked and traumatized by this development because , in our core , many of us believed that our elemental , deeply rooted way of life would persist forever .
It was not long before immense amounts of traffic began swarming around our once quiet , rural neighborhood . My family , though , held out , in part because my father , José Inez López , had dearly loved this land and it would be hard to part with it on a whim . Still , our family was edging closer and closer to making the same irreversible decision , especially when it became clear to everyone that the quality of life in the neighborhood was deteriorating with alarming speed . What we were suddenly up against was an age-old community undergoing dissolution with indiscriminate littering , rising crime rates and pervasive drug addiction among our youth as undeniable indicators . The equally sudden and unabating activity of recreational vehicles and heavy machinery intent on reconfiguring the contours of the land in order to accommodate other ill-planned subdivisions , only added to the sorry specter of the encroaching ecological degradation of a once pristine landscape .
Once our farmstead was bereft of the presence of my mother and the family members who had cared for her , ruin began to set in quickly . The Siberian elm , an invasive species of tree , left unchecked , began overtaking the farmland . Litter from the housing divisions began to accumulate at the fence line . In many places , the fence was ruptured and vagrants came and went at will . The house was broken into and the old bridge spanning the irrigation canal , collapsed . On one occasion , one of my brothers who had decided to spend an evening and night in the old farmstead was so overcome with emotion upon seeing the pitiful state of things , that soon after arriving , he turned around and headed back home .
A few years into this period of decline , my job situation changed radically and I felt the need to move to a location closer to my new job . The old family farm was not far away . I made arrangements with the family to relocate here . When I first arrived , I began to pick up the broken pieces and fix and clean certain areas .
plenty I autumn harvest 2022 15