The first time I went to a Scion Exchange I didn’t know what to expect—was it a science fiction convention? As I drew nearer I saw people entering the building with little sticks under their arms—was it some sect of Wicca? The Wicker Wiccan maybe? But no, a Scion Exchange is where farmers and home gardeners bring twig cuttings from their best fruit and nut trees to swap so others may grow heirloom varieties. The requirements are simple: bring some, take some, and make notes.
The Exchanges take place in winter, when trees are dormant and the gardeners and farmers are restless with spring planning. I went to an exchange in Sebastopol, CA (Sonoma county). They can be found through your local chapter of the Rare Fruit Growers Association or Farm Extension Service. Inside a Scion Exchange you’ll find long tables with heaps of branch cuttings in labeled plastic bags and marking tape. They are laid out under their genus headings for Pears, Stone Fruit, Cane Berries, and Apples. Bags with intriguing names like “Sweet Victoria,” “Fiesta,” “Sunrise,” and “Api Etoile.” Some names allude to previous growers: “Tydeman’s Late Orange Apple,” “Hudson’s Golden Gem,” and “Jeffers.”
The hall, often a grange or school cafeteria depending on the town, is abuzz with gossip—what pests are around, water issues, the dirt on soil, and, of course, the weather. The Scion Exchange is where you can learn the fine art of grafting fruit trees. Grafting is the art of inserting a cutting from one fruit tree into another to propagate a plant. Orchardists wait patiently for a turn with a Master Grafter, who will demonstrate by grafting the special scion wood onto an appropriate rootstock – which you then plant. With grafting know-how and some luck you could successfully graft one variety, of say a Waltana Apple, onto an existing Gravenstein Apple tree. Grafting various varieties onto one tree is a way for orchardists to maximize their harvest and space. Grafting is cloning, but not GMO – it is an ancient technique dating back to Mesopotamia. Growing trees from seeds is not a realistic option on our human time scale.
When I asked one orchardist what she was looking for at the Scion Exchange she replied “Disease resistance. I don’t want to have to spray.” Growing organically is by far the prevailing sentiment among orchardists. The exchange of these varieties not only builds community among gardeners, but diversity in the fruit varieties available. It is a way for outstanding varieties to get known. This is just the bare tree part of the story. The fruit tasting is in September.
- Heidi Lewis
Auntie Amerika pushes up the sleeves of her purple patchwork dashiki and stirs a large pot on the stove, her granny glasses steaming up as she leans over to catch a whiff. She deftly grabs an unlabeled jar of spice from her collection and sprinkles some into the veggie stew. The kitchen is warm and colorful with some Janis drifting in from the other room. “Auntie A, can we have white rice with dinner?” Auntie drops her wooden spoon with a clunk. “No, honey. White rice is not nice.” Auntie is full of declaratives like, “The whiter the bread, the sooner you’re dead.” A little exaggerated, but then she’s a healthy 94-year-old marathon runner. Go Auntie A!
Meteorologists and weather watchers model 
Just as there are hats for every need, taste, or occasion, so there is a bean. Beans grow in every part of the world, touch every cuisine, and nourish the planet as one of its most complete foods. Beyond the basic red, black, and white beans we are most familiar with, there are thousands of heirloom bean varieties that have been passed down neighbor-to-neighbor and generation-to-generation. Take the bag of dried beans in our TakeHome boxes this week. They are a variety called Good Mother Stallard, grown in Thornton, CA (San Joaquin County), and brought to us by bean aficionado Steve Sando at 
“From a career standpoint I would be better off selling apples on the corner then being a VP at General Motors,” Karen Morss’ father told her. Yet Karen has had success in both business and agriculture. She has done her part breaking glass ceilings in boardrooms and the upper atmosphere with careers as a software entrepreneur and owner of a flight school geared toward women. Now she’s an orchardist, or orchardess, as she calls herself. Karen is the lady behind 
d instructors; from her screenwriting chapter, when she developed a script about the Wright Brother’s sister Katherine.
Meyer Lemons are a lemon-mandarin cross. Chefs and bakers prize their thin skin and heavenly scent. Karen’s favorite thing to do with Meyers is add a slice to water: “Everybody knows you’re supposed to drink more water – but it’s not always easy. [Add] Meyer Lemon in water and you’ll just gulp it down – it’s such a treat!” Karen also makes marmalades and recommends an Italian pudding called 
Oroville, CA – Oroville is a gold rush town in Butte County, CA. Oro means gold in Spanish, and during the Gold Rush prospectors stampeded over the area in a greedy frenzy. When Del Chaffin came to the area, he was looking for riches of a different kind—a valley where he could grow crops year-round. Del bought land from a group of professors at UC Berkeley, his alma mater, where researchers had a grove of 
“The ranch contains about a 600-acre microclimate. Its horseshoe shape creates a natural weather bay that faces west, which sunset fills with warm air. At the back of the horseshoe is Table Mountain, comprised of dense volcanic rock that retains heat, says 
What really makes this 2,000-acre farm outstanding is how it’s run. Many farms in this area of California generally focus on one crop, say, nuts or apples. Chaffin Orchards grows over 40 varieties of different types of orchard fruit, raises 4 kinds of livestock, harvests eggs and wool, and makes olive oil and jam. A handful of family members and three life-long employees are able to be in production year-round by enlisting animals into the operation. “We run the livestock through the orchard to do the land management. Sheep and cows are the lawn mowers. The goats prune invasive weeds to clear out riparian areas and cut fire breaks,” says Chris. Animal power has replaced 85 percent of the diesel fuel they previously used for tractors. And they don’t need nitrogen fertilizer or pesticides because their chickens rid the orchards of pests.
The animals are rotated through the orchards to munch on the fresh grass between the trees, and are corralled by solar-powered electric fences. A regiment of guard dogs protects the livestock from native predators like bear, bobcat, mountain lion, and coyote that reside on the ranch. Chaffin Orchards is certified 
The idyllic location and environmentally friendly management make for some very fine fruit. Many of the trees were planted 50 years ago. The thick-trunked, well-established trees produce tasty heirloom fruits like 
Are you a FruitGuys customer that is closed for the holidays? Why not give something back to those in need. Instead of putting your order on hold, our 
Closed for the holidays? Why not give something back to those in need. Instead of putting your order on hold, 
Just as plants employ the cycle of photosynthesis and respiration to convert light, air, and water into energy and back again into CO2, so go the cycles of farming seasons. Seed to sprout to fruit to compost to soil to seeds again. Every culture’s agricultural calendar takes into account times of abundance and times for fields to lay fallow. Fallow fields aren’t lazy. Under a blanket of clover, they are gathering up nitrogen in the soil to feed the next season’s crop.
To take the full measure of the fall exhalation, and the bounty of fall harvest, consider the season’s colors on your table. Pumpkin orange Fuyu Persimmons, ruby red Pomegranate seeds, and bright yellow-orange Clementine segments have the same beautiful jewel tones of Vermont at leaf peak. The fruits, just like autumn leaves, turn brilliant colors when the chilly weather unmasks the anthocyanins and carotenoids in their plant cells. Sugar, brilliant color, and nutrients have all burst out in joyful exclamation of flavor after a long season of work.
