2024 has been an unusual year. For the first time in over 48 years, we’re harvesting in December—a good 2–3 weeks later than usual. Typically, the nuts are “ready” for harvest when their hulls fully crack open, allowing them to fall easily when we shake the trees. But after two attempts this season, they simply wouldn’t budge, leaving us with no choice but to wait. Then came the “Bomb Cyclone” storm heading for California. We were fortunate to only get light rain; too much rain can ruin the orchard floor, creating deep ruts from tractors—or worse, leaving us stuck. Next, we faced extremely cold mornings that caused many leaves to drop early. For the walnuts that had fallen to the ground, being buried under wet leaves posed a risk of mold— and added to the mess of harvest time. Our deadline to deliver nuts to Diamond was December 1, an impossible target for us this year. Thankfully, they extended it to December 5, but it will still take a miracle to meet it. Finally, we’re ready. The rows are swept, the trees have been shaken, and the plant is prepped. Now, it’s a race against time. Long days lie ahead to get the nuts dried and ready for delivery. Here’s hoping for no mechanical issues (though there always are), good health for the family working, and a crop that lives up to it's promise - fingers crossed!
This classic came with the farm when we bought it in 1976. Back then, she was fully operational—even made the trek over Highway 154 with beehives loaded in the back when we moved in! For years, she hauled our walnut harvest to Buellflat to be weighed before the crop was sent up north to Diamond Nuts. She’s been retired for a few decades now, sitting patiently (and admittedly, a bit neglected) ever since.
Well, it took about a year longer than we planned—but the old gal is finally up and running! For now, she’s making short trips around the farm, but we’ve got bigger plans. She’ll be a regular in local parades and might even make an appearance at the occasional pop-up event, proudly hauling our tasty Chandler walnuts.
No matter where she goes, we couldn’t be prouder of our little beauty. Welcome back, old friend.
2023 began with 26" inches of glorious beautiful rain! We can't emphasize enough how vital this is for the health and life of our trees. Before the rain, we had marked nearly 100 under-performing tress for removal. By the end of the year so many trees rebounded, that the new number for removal was less than 20.
We also began 2023 with about 10,000 pounds of walnuts that we held back from our walnut delivery to Diamond Nuts. This was a very ambitious number, as we had no idea if we could sell that many on our own. Between our daily Farm-Stand sales , and selling walnuts in three local grocery stores (plus two more stores to the North), we are happy to report that all 10,000 pounds were sold! We enjoyed meeting many of our customers at the Los Alamos Sister's Second Saturday event, as well as Old Santa Ynez Days, and always love bumping into folks at the Farm Stand. THANK YOU to all our our loyal customers who have supported us. We truly could not do it without you.
Mother Nature was kind to us this year, with a mild summer, no early frost, and all of the early rain, which netted us nearly 30,000 pounds of stunning walnuts with our November harvest. This, compared to 5 years ago, when we had a scant 5,180 pounds. This rebound is incredibly inspiring and we have held back another 10,000 pounds for our community sales in 2024.
Kerry & Rich launched their Choose and Cut Christmas Tree Farm in November, and thus fulfilled a lifelong dream. We all continue to share and love the farm. Like most, our family lost a couple of loved ones, and gained a couple. We are settling into the rhythm of life and balancing farm work with the sweetness of simply being.
We are located across the street from the Miniature Horses at
1646 Alamo Pintado Rd.
Our Farm Stand is open 7 days a week with bagged Premium Chandler Walnuts available.
Our exceptional Chandler Walnuts are light, plump, and mild in taste - perfect for snacking, baking, and gifts. Healthy and Delicious - stop by and grab a bag - you won't be disappointed.
Ever wonder how we get the nuts out of the trees? Here you go! This is our third Harvester, and is quite a step up from our old original system: using a strap wrapped around the trunk and shaking (think of the old fashioned "fat burning/shaking machines")
A LEAP OF FAITH
After selling exclusively to Diamond for the last 45 years, last year we tried selling about 1,500 pounds on our own. We were overwhelmed by the support of our community, and sold out in a matter of months. This year we are holding back half of our crop (about 10,000 pounds) . It's exciting (and a bit scary) but we are stepping into the next year full of hope.
I can sum up my childhood with one story. I once had a sweater that my mom made for me when I was about 12. It was made of mohair, which was sheared from our pet Angora goat, Lilly. After it was sheared, the wool was "carded" ( the process of gently pulling the wool with wire brushes into soft long strands). The wool was then dyed in boiled cabbage leaves to get a soft purple color. Mom then spun it into yarn on her spinning wheel, and after she had several balls of yarn, she knit the sweater ( a bulky, super-soft, long sleeve giant of a thing). creating my lilac "Lilly" sweater.
It was not a "normal" childhood.
We didn't know it at the time, but we were incredibly lucky. We were living a pioneer life at a time when everyone around us was enjoying the pleasures of convenience food such as foil wrapped ding dongs, and TV Dinners. We had homemade bread (for which Mom ground her own wheat), and ate walnut butter sandwiches, and spoonfuls of fresh honey from our bee hives. We ate our own meat, as in, the chickens, rabbits, ducks, pigs, and even a cow that our parents butchered and then froze in our always-stocked freezer. We ate from our garden year-round, and enjoyed mom's canned preserves and applesauce when the garden was lean. We had goat milk and fresh eggs every day. We ate carob instead of chocolate (yuck), and we never even saw a loaf of white bread or pre-packaged anything. Our parents were hard workers and devoted themselves to the farm and to a certain way of life for their family.
Things have changed this last year and they have both moved off the farm. It has now passed to the next generation, consisting of three children with their spouses, eight grandchildren, and six great grandchildren, most of whom live here in the Santa Ynez Valley, and several right here on the farm.
We are adjusting.
Follow our journey as we navigate sharing the farm together, reinventing our focus to more than just walnuts, and holding true to our parent's vision when they bought a little farm some 42 years ago.
It's been a pleasure to welcome folks from all over the country ... campers seeking space and quiet and natural beauty. We have only two campsites nestled in the Grove - so our guests can truly breathe in the fresh air in their own private space. Although we've been here for decades - we don't take for granted the restorative nature of
It's been a pleasure to welcome folks from all over the country ... campers seeking space and quiet and natural beauty. We have only two campsites nestled in the Grove - so our guests can truly breathe in the fresh air in their own private space. Although we've been here for decades - we don't take for granted the restorative nature of the open space and the power of an early bird-song or shooting star.
It started with Covid, and people escaping lock-down. For several, it was their first camping experience. We loved hearing their stories, and feeling that human connection at a time of so much isolation and uncertainty. We had parents working remotely - and children in desperate need of a good run and a break from Zoom-school. Some have come back again and again to "their" spot.
"Wow - look at all those stars!". We've heard this statement so many times. There are no street nights, no high rise buildings, no freeway noise. Truly an escape for the weary. It took some getting used to for all of us living on the Farm - but being able to give the simple experience of relaxation and rest to our guests has been incredibly rewarding.
This is a Santa Ynez Valley News article from October 1985. Dad was only 43 at the time of the photo. He was a tireless farmer. He was still working Monday through Friday in Santa Barbara at his own investment firm, but would head straight into the orchard after work and all day long on the weekends. Back then, Harvest could be a month-long venture, with all family members pitching in. Some things have changed since then: we have a new variety of nuts that harvest in November (which adds some pressure with a December 1st deadline from Diamond), our processing plant is now an open air structure that (depending on the year) can be sweltering hot under a blazing sun or cold and rainy. We have much of the same antique farm equipment that came with the purchase of the Farm (and is holding together on a prayer and a dime). Harvest is right around the corner and we have much to do: tractors need repairing, the plant needs to be sanitized, we need one more round of watering, the orchard floor needs to be prepped. The trees look better than they have in a decade - that 20" of rain was a miracle. In many ways, 2019 has been our most difficult year ever, and yet we are hopeful. We have an exciting and ambitious goal list for 2020. We are settling in to this new rhythm and new "normal" on the farm, and the three of us are working better together than thought possible. The farm is cleaned up, scrap metal has been sold off, many dump runs have been made with 40 years worth of build-up. The tide seems to be turning. I think we're going to make it. I think Dad would be proud.
In response to this remarkable space in time that the world finds itself in, and prompted by a feeling of helplessness (and anxiety), I started keeping a paper log of the daily stats for Coronavirus cases and deaths. I broke it out by local, county, state, national, and global. After two weeks of watching numbers increase, I decided to use the figures for something that might offer something more positive.
I started with 651 paper hearts strung together with fishing line, each heart representing a lost life in California to Covid-19. It quickly grew, and as of this writing, the tree has 2,171 hearts strewn about the branches. They are wind-swept and tangled, and some have blown away. We've added a bench to the tree so that folks can stop by and have a moment of peace and reflection if they desire. It has turned into a passion project - with a commitment to see it through to the end of this pandemic, whenever that may be. Be safe everyone.
If one word could encapsulate the year of 2020 … I think it would be “Home”. This year, more than ever before, this Farm has been a refuge for our family. It is a place with open space and feels “normal” in a most unbelievable year. In the early months of the pandemic, (when even going to the grocery store could be wrought with fear and anxiety), the simple act of turning onto our driveway brought relief and calm. We all found ourselves busy with projects: building a chicken coop, planting a garden, home improvement projects, building a new Farm Stand, and plenty of time together. Some family members were laid off, or lost their jobs altogether. Some adjusted to working from home. As we moved into summer, our Hip Camp sites were booked solid, as folks sought safe travel alternatives. Our walnut crop looked as good as ever, and it felt like we were managing the pandemic. Fall brought a single 117 degree day, which literally fried about a third of our crop. We carefully planned a 10-day homecoming visit for Mom, who has been in lock-down for close to a year. We celebrated an early, socially-distanced Thanksgiving with her, and managed a whirlwind walnut harvest in two days time. Our family has had three positive Covid test results (all recovered), and for the first time in over 50 years, we did not spend Christmas together. Like everyone, we are weary of this new normal. But I don't think that anyone living here on this little 22 acre parcel ever fails to be grateful for this gift of space, and health, and simplicity that Mom and Dad provided us when they purchased a little hobby farm some 45 years ago. We are nearing the two-year anniversary of Dad moving to a care facility. And Mom to a different one shortly thereafter. We are all a bit more grounded this year. A bit more weathered and cautious. Gone are the weekly s'more nights with margaritas. We are a bit more distant from one another – as each family grapples with their own struggles this pandemic has brought. But we are doing OK. We are doing better than many. We are grateful. We are patient. We are hopeful for 2021.We will keep moving forward, one day at a time.
** My “Heart Tree” kept me very busy for several months – but very quickly the number of lives lost to the pandemic became too much to keep up with. As I write this, the staggering number of Californians lost is over 26,000. The tragedy of it can be overwhelming. It may well be a decade before life starts to resemble what we think of as normal. It all changed so quickly. It seems that the only tool for survival is to stay in the current day, or the current moment. That is enough for now.
This will be the third year in a row that Mother Nature has not been kind to us. Two years ago, it was an early frost - which "froze" the hulls to the nuts, and caused the leaves to fall early and made a mess for harvest. Last year, it was a single 117 ° day that fried the nuts inside their shells , and this year (now a week away from May 1st) we have received about 7" of rain, a fraction of what the trees need, with little hope of any more to come. Even if we could water as much as we wanted, it's just not the same as nutritious rain water. We need to be realistic about our future as walnut farmers. The trees are stressed. It may be asking too much for them to rebound every several years when we actually get adequate rain. We are grateful for Hip Camp, and the steady stream of campers seeking outdoor open space - but how long will this last? People will gradually return to tropical vacations, and Disneyland. What then? We struggle with this question. Will any grandkids even want this farm - with little or no income options? Are we perhaps the end of the line? It's too big a question for now. For now, we will enjoy this simple life - this little slice of tranquil beauty - and let the future be whatever it will be. I know we'll be OK.
We lost Dad after a long struggle with Alzheimers on July 9th. But his life was so much more than Alzherimers. An avid Traveler, an Investment Advisor, a Humanitarian, a Volunteer, a Farmer, a Husband of 65 years, a Father, Grandfather, Great-Grandfather, and Great-Great Grandfather. He was deeply loved by his family, and not a day goes b
We lost Dad after a long struggle with Alzheimers on July 9th. But his life was so much more than Alzherimers. An avid Traveler, an Investment Advisor, a Humanitarian, a Volunteer, a Farmer, a Husband of 65 years, a Father, Grandfather, Great-Grandfather, and Great-Great Grandfather. He was deeply loved by his family, and not a day goes by that we aren't profoundly aware of the gift he gave us with this Farm and this lifestyle. We love and miss him and celebrate his life.
It was a spontaneous purchase in 1976. Mom and Dad had a small hobby farm in Santa Barbara, but this was real farming: a 22 acre walnut farm in Santa Ynez, with a contract to harvest and sell nuts to Diamond. Dad jumped in fearlessly and learned everything there was to know. He worked as a Stock Broker in SB by day, and then plowed and pr
It was a spontaneous purchase in 1976. Mom and Dad had a small hobby farm in Santa Barbara, but this was real farming: a 22 acre walnut farm in Santa Ynez, with a contract to harvest and sell nuts to Diamond. Dad jumped in fearlessly and learned everything there was to know. He worked as a Stock Broker in SB by day, and then plowed and pruned and repaired water lines every spare hour he had. He loved the Farm and the lifestyle it provided.
To honor his legacy, we have decided to create a beautiful, secluded garden for peaceful reflection and stillness. It will be a place of respite and tranquility - with a swing, water feature, several trees, and lovely plants. He would have loved this place - and it gives us something positive to pour our energy into.
Another Harvest is on the books! And what a harvest it was - no major break-downs, no extreme weather events, the price of walnuts is up, and we pulled in 20,000 pounds of beautiful nuts. This follows four years of declining trees, severe drought, and a restructuring of our Farm. We could not be more grateful.
Our Harvest is now stream-lined to last about a week or so (it could be a 6-7 week process some 40 years ago!) The days are long, and the work is hard on our aging bodies - but what a beautiful view we have through it all.
We now offer 1-pound bags of in-shell walnuts at the Farm Stand daily from
9-5. Stop by and grab a bag or two. We also have beautiful seasonal produce this summer: tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, and a variety of fruits. (daily selection varies)
June brought another beautiful celebration on the farm - with both the ceremony and the reception nestled in the midst of the walnut grove. It was truly a joy to be with friends and family for such a love-filled occasion. Maybe we all appreciate our connections just a bit more after the last three years.
In spite of only 6 inches of rain, our cherished walnut trees are hanging in there. It looks like a modest crop, but we'll take it! They are still beautiful, in spite of their stress. The Christmas trees have not fared as well. The future remains unsteady for farmers .. and we are grateful for our Hip Campers and Farm Stand patrons keeping us afloat.
1646 Alamo Pintado Road Ballard CA 93463
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