The other day, one of my neighbors stopped by as I was sipping coffee near my roses, and asked me about my trees. He said that the fire department had issued him a notice. He raked up his yard, and now his pine trees are dying. I nodded in agreement. This is happening all over California. We have been experiencing raging forest fires, and are in the midst of a drought.
I explained that we are allowed to have some mulch on the ground. We have to keep our weeds trimmed below four inches, but when bare soil is bone dry, it becomes hard as a rock and can't absorb the water.
Today I watched a documentary explaining how native plants help butterflies produce. That's part of the reason why my land is so productive. It is filled with lilacs, oak trees, and bright red Indian paintbrush wildflowers. The tiny hummingbirds flit from flower to flower, soaking up the nectar. My land is filled with them. I let the seeds dry on the stems, and then spread them each September. The soil remains undisturbed, except for the wildlife. I stay on my path when walking up and down the mountain with friends, neighbors or my dogs.
This afternoon I harvested the coffee berries. They are a flavorful fruit that resembles a blueberry. The taste is almost like licorice. They contain seeds, like a Concord grape. They start out green, turn red, and then become almost black. The plants were here when I bought the cabin, and are native to the area.
So, as the ecosystem hums along, without sprays or chemicals, people feel the buzz of life as they walk by; everyone who visits comments on the trees. They look up in amazement. Trees are life, and oaks are spectacular. My dad taught me that you can't put a price on mature trees in a neighborhood.
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