What a Bonanza!

Joe Starkey

You know it's getting close to football season when I title a post: "What a Bonanza!" The signature call of play-by-play broadcaster Joe Starkey, it's something I get to hear a lot of thanks to my Cal Bear grad wife and the fact that DirecTV is in a contract dispute with the PAC 12 television network. That dispute means not a lot of Cal Bear Football games show up on the local TV channel, so KGO Radio and Joe Starkey it is on those fall afternoons.

But I truly believe that Starkey would utter the same line if he could cast a Golden Bear eye at the fresh fruit production currently coming out of the Bird Back 40. From peaches to pluots and grapes to apples -- it's all beginning to ripen up at the same time. Call it the "Bonanza" of fruit producing backyards. But, this is what I envisioned six years ago when I set out to transform a backyard that contained nothing more than a level sheet of stark, dusty clay.

Peaches and Pluots: Bird Back 40 Orchards

Yes, Virginia, you can get tired of eating peaches.

But I'm not quite there yet.

I've come to discover that peaches and pluots make for nice cousins when it comes to a morning snack at work. Twenty minutes of slicing and dicing in the morning, plus a little fresh lemon juice, leads to a couple of Tupperware containers that are jammed with fresh, tree-ripened fruit. Add in some slices of Honeycrisp apples and a smattering of Fiesta or Diamond Muscat table grapes, and it's a fruit salad.

We have so many options this summer!

Flavor Finale Pluots

I am perhaps most excited by the production out of the Flavor Finale Pluot tree. Planted four years ago in the Bird Back 40, it produced its first really big harvest this year. As expected, the mockingbirds attacked the fruit on this tree with impunity. But it really didn't matter much this year -- as there was more than enough fruit for the annoying birds and Bill and Venus Bird.

I've also come to discover that this variety of pluot is one of the few fruit varieties that I like to pull from the tree before they soften. The Flavor Finale pluot is one of the sweetest varieties of pluots to hit the market, and it's a sweetness that develops in the fruit long before it actually turns soft to the touch. That crisp bite and sweet taste is quite a combination, and I've discovered that the fruit doesn't grow any sweeter if allowed to stay on the tree until it softens.

Sliced Flavor Finale Pluots

And so? It gets harvested early this year.

Why did we get such a big year out of the Flavor Finale this year? Why not last year or the year before last? I'm not sure. I know that I lacked a pollinator for this tree. The Santa Rosa plum tree planted in the front yard was just too far away, or so I believed at the time. It might have been the grafting work that I performed on this tree two years ago. These grafts actually yielded a small harvest of different kinds of pluots this summer, but more importantly, may have also provided the kickstart kind of pollen needed to produce a lot of Flavor Finale fruit.

Whatever the answer? I'm blessed. Pluots are the bomb. Thank you Floyd Zaiger.

O'Henry Peach Tree: Bird Back 40

But no fruit salad from the Bird Back 40 would be complete without the addition of tree-ripened O'Henry Peaches. My friends, I've tried many peaches in my lifetime. Call me a "peach snob" if you will. From the early ripening varieties, to the new additions to hit the peach market in recent years, I've tasted them all. Yet, I keep coming back to the old, reliable, O'Henry Peach. It has a sweetness and consistency that ranks as my all time peach favorite.

It also might be the fact that I literally grew up with this variety on the old Modesto homestead all those years ago. Perhaps it's that taste of long-gone youth that brings me back to the O'Henry year after year? Perhaps...

Sliced O'Henry Peaches

The wife that is Venus and I were fortunate enough to add a third peach variety to the Bird Back 40 collection this year. This is a mult-budded tree that will offer far more harvest possibilities in the years to come -- as this one single tree offers five different peach varieties that have been grafted onto standard rootstock. This particular tree is called the Pride Collection, and contains peach varieties that ripen from May to September.

My friends -- that's five solid months of peach production. There's a word for that. It's called "heaven."

In the words of Joe Starkey: "What a Bonanza!"

America's First Designer Apple?

Honeycrisp Apple-Bird Back 40

Hey now! Don't blame me for the name. This time? I'm innocent. I didn't stick it with this name. The apple world is literally buzzing about the best darn apple in the world, and no, the name isn't Fuji. However, this variety may be causing the biggest buzz since Fuji apples first hit the marketplace.

Apple lovers are writing flowery prose about this variety. Enter the search term "Honeycrisp Apple" on Twitter and you will find year after year of tributes from thousands of apple enthusiasts all over the United States. At farmer's markets in the Midwest and the East Coast, where Red Delicious and other apple varieties sell for a buck a pound -- the Honeycrisp Apple commands a price of five bucks per pound.

Honeycrisp Apple Fallen from the Tree

Worse yet -- the variety is so new to the apple world -- that not many acres have been planted. In fact, according to the comprehensive resource about apples and apple orchards, Orange Pippen, there are no groves of Honeycrisp apples to be found anywhere in California. At most you will find a single tree here or there.

And you just might find one of those trees hidden deep in the Bird Back 40. Count Bill Bird as thanking his lucky stars. Because this year he's got a small crop of Honeycrisp apples that are now beginning to show plenty of color. And Bill Bird -- plus the wife that is Venus -- are licking their chops in anticipation of biting into an apple that is like no other.

Twitter Tributes: Honeycrisp Apple

How did I come to choose the Honeycrisp Apple three years ago when I put my Backyard Orchard Culture (BOC) skills to work? My friends -- even a a squirrel sometimes finds a nut. The Bird Back 40 is littered with one garden mistake after another. But we can call this decision a grand slam in the world of horticultural endeavors.

BOC Apple Orchard: Bird Back 40

The line of thinking, three years ago during bare root planting season, went a little like this. As I walked the rows of young apple trees at the now-closed Capital Nursery in Land Park, I knew what I was looking for. The BOC apple orchard would hold three trees. The wife that is Venus had requested a Granny Smith. As for myself? I was looking for the Fuji apple.

But what about that elusive third tree? What variety should I pick? Capital Nursery had so many selections on that dark, gray February afternoon that it was tough to choose. Should I pick the Gala? The Golden Delicious? What about the Pink Pearl or the Pink Lady? That picture of the Liberty Apple at the Liberty row of trees sure did look good. What about that?

Honeycrisp Apples

In a sense, I was torn. There were so many varieties to choose from. But I could choose only one. Which one?

It was, at that point, where this rather brilliant thought crossed my tequila soaked brain. Why not buy the apple that every other apple buyer was choosing? You see -- each row of apple tree varieties contained anywhere from ten to 12 trees. If I came to a row that still held 10 trees or more -- I moved on. Nobody was buying this apple. If I happened upon a row that contained six to seven trees from the original 12, it would get serious consideration.

As it turned out, serious consideration wasn't needed. I came across one variety that held just two trees. Only two were left from the original 12, and bare root season had barely started. This was the apple tree that people were snapping up. The decision was easy. I reached out and grabbed the best bare root tree remaining. This is how the Honeycrisp Apple found a home in the Bird Back 40.

Honeycrisp Apple

Flash forward three years later -- the year 2013 -- and Bill Bird finds himself at a computer trying to find out when the Honeycrisp ripened. And that is when I stumbled across these glowing tributes to the Honeycrisp Apple. People are going absolutely BONKERS over this variety. Thousands of apple lovers from across the globe are willing to pay top dollar for a variety that has captured the heart of the apple-loving public.

Why are people going nutso over the Honeycrisp? Well, I must admit, we haven't had a taste of a true, tree-ripened Honeycrisp just yet. However, enough of them have fallen from the tree, early I might add, to get an idea of the excitement behind the Honeycrisp. This is the poprocks of apple varieties. Honeycrisp apples literally explode when you crunch into them. They are juicy, sweet, tart, and contain a consistency that is unlike the Braeburn or any other apple variety. It's tough to describe, but it's darn good.

Honeycrisp Tree in Raised Bed

This may also be the most studied of apple varieties in the history of the United States, despite it's young age. The Honeycrisp was born 20-years ago at the Minnesota Agricultural Experiment Station's Horticultural Research Center at the University of Minnesota. Scientist David Bedford, who created the Honeycrisp through the old-fashioned method of cross-breeding one variety to another, claims it's a cross of the apple cultivars Macoun and Honeygold.

Ah -- but here's the rub. Old fashioned cross-breeding isn't always 100 percent reliable. Pollen is a funny thing. Invisible to the naked eye, pollen floats on gentle air currents for hundreds and even thousands of miles. Genetic testing has discovered that the Honeycrisp isn't a cross of either the Macoun or Honeygold. The genetic fingerprinting found that one of the parents was the Keepsake cultivar, which is found at the University of Minnesota Research Center. And the other parent? Unknown. The pollen could have floated in from a backyard tree somewhere in Minnesota, or could have been a test variety that has since been abandoned. UPDATE: Another genetic study, published in 2017, revealed that Honeycrisp’s true parents were ‘Keepsake’ and an unnamed apple tree referred to as ‘MN1627’. 

The short and sweet answer is we may never know the other parent. There are literally thousands of apple varieties in the United States and across the world for that matter. We know the DNA markers for some, but not all.

But I suppose all of this really doesn't matter. The craze behind the Honeycrisp continues to grow at an exponential rate. Budweiser put it in a beer. They can't brew the Shock Top Honeycrisp Apple Wheat fast enough to meet demand. Who knows where it will wind up next?

Pollinated by the Granny Smith, the Honeycrisp variety set a nice crop of apples this year. It is the smallest of the three trees in our BOC orchard, but no matter. It seems to like where it's planted and we've been rewarded with our first crop ever.

America's first designer apple. In the Bird Back 40. Nice

Muscat Love

Diamond Muscat Seedless Table Grape

If you've come here expecting a little Captain and Tennille action, you're going to be sadly disappointed. If you have absolutely no idea of what I'm talking about -- congratulations on that thing called "youth." Enjoy it while you can. If you are old enough to remember the good Captain and his partner, Toni Tennille, welcome to Geezerdom. We've been waiting for you to arrive. Bedpans are to your left.

I write today, not about Muskrats, but rather Muscats. What's the difference? One is an animal -- the other is a grape. Captain and Tennille wrote and sang about Muskrats, not Muscats. I'm here to sing (croon actually) about Muscats. And Muscats just happen to be growing in my backyard. It is called the Diamond Muscat, pictured above right, and is now literally ripe for the picking in the Bird Back 40.

Monster Table Grape Vines-Bird Back 40

It is also probably the most unique kind of table grape that I planted some four years ago in the Backyard of Bird. Most table grapes are sweet -- some more so than others. Indeed -- the higher the brix content -- the more desirable the grape. The Diamond Muscat is sweet -- no doubt about it -- but also offers a different kind of taste not found in most table grapes. While I'm not a big fan of wine (how can I like grapes but not like wine?), there is that subtle hint of wine grape in every bite of a Diamond Muscat. This is one special table grape.

How special? I'm so very glad you asked. According to our good friends at the University of California Integrated Viticulture website: "Diamond Muscat was released by the USDA Agricultural Research Service in 2000 as an early season white seedless with muscat flavor. The muscat flavor is pleasant and mild though it is more intense than that of ‘Summer Muscat’. It has the potential for wine or concentrate production..."

Fantasy Seedless Table Grape Cluster

It's also one good tasting table grape -- and may soon be offered through the Bird Back 40 Kitchens as a grape jelly, grape soda, grape snowcone, grape.... you get the idea.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, it happens to be one of five or six varieties of table grapes that have suddenly ripened, weeks before they were supposed to ripen. This has been one strange summer in terms of weather patterns. The early onset of summer heat brought on a bountiful stone fruit crop -- and also paid the same dividends when it comes to table grapes it appears. The nine varieties that I have planted in the Bird Back 40 are not all designed to ripen at once. That would be a grape disaster instead of grape season.

But, obviously, this year Mother Nature had something else planned entirely.

Fantasy Table Grapes (partial harvest)

That big batch of blue table grapes pictured upper right (and immediate left), for example? That is the Fantasy Table Grape. As I write this, Fantasy Table Grape season has come and gone as we juiced the last of a 50 lb. harvest just last night. Instead of 50 lbs. of Fantasy Table Grapes, the wife that is Venus and I have about three gallons of fresh, pure, 100 percent fresh-squeezed Fantasy table grape juice.

Thank goodness the wife had the right mind to fire up that Jack Lalanne juicer.

What a Cluster!

Had our neighbors and some of our friends at work not helped out by taking many pounds off our hands, I fear there would be a lot more. We should be right smack dab in the middle of Fantasy table grape season. Instead, this batch of grapes, resembling plums with some clusters, ripened up about two weeks early. Why? Other than the wacky summer weather we've had, I have no idea why. I only know that when the mockingbirds begin to raid the table grape crop? The table grape crop is ready for picking.

Venus and I installed our table grape vines in the Bird Back 40 four years ago. Though the vines produced a nice crop in the second and third years, nothing could really prepare us for what is now taking place this year. And our friends who grow grapes for a living claim we "ain't seen nothing yet." Peak production for our table grape plantings won't come for another season or three.

Freshly Squeezed Table Grape Juice

As I keep a sharp eye on the Black Monukka, Suffolk Red, Flame and other varieties of grapes, I can believe that. The Flame is probably the strangest producer of this bunch. Most table grape varieties set clusters of flowers in the spring, and those flowers eventually turn into small grapes. At that point? Small grapes grow through the summer and turn into big grapes.

But not the Flame seedless table grape. Oh sure, the Flame set clusters of flowers early in the season just like every other seedless table grape vine did. And, oh, sure, those flowers turned into small grapes. And those small grapes have since turned into big grapes. Some have even changed color!

Mockingbird Hunter "Lenny" on Patrol

But what the Flame has done throughout the summer, which other vines have not, is continue to set new clusters. The vine flowered into July -- setting new clusters every four or five days. This means some clusters are now getting ready to ripen, while others are still green and small.

Can you say: "What a Cluster?" I know! I know...

My thanks to Sacramento area gardener Carri Stokes who first set me on this table grape adventure four years ago. I owe her a table grape -- or two.

The Ghostly White Nectarine

Arctic Jay White Nectarines-Bird Back 40

If you've followed this blog for any length of time, you've probably come to realize that I'm just a tad fanatic about fresh fruit from the backyard. Some might say I'm just a tad off my rocker. Still others might suggest a little white jacket and some time in a padded room.

You see -- a normal backyard fruit enthusiast will select a perfect spot in the backyard and plant one (1) fruit tree and be done with that. Someone who loves citrus, for example, might even take it a bit further and plant one (1) lemon tree and one (1) lime tree together. Still others -- again on the normal side of the ledger -- will search for that perfect lemon tree that yields a special kind of lemon juice.

Fantasia Nectarines: Delicious

And then, there's someone like Bill Bird. He's anything but normal. He is the "anti-normal." The "what the heck are you doing," normal. My line of thinking goes like this: One fruit tree is just that, one. As Three Dog Night once crooned, "One is the Loneliest Number." One is also boring. Why have one when you can five or six. And why stop with just one variety of fruit when you have so many to choose from?

You can see how this thing called "reality" can easily slip from your grasp.

My evidence in this case questioning my sanity? Easy. It's that Backyard Orchard Culture adventure that I set out on several years ago in a quest to bring fresh nectarines to the Bird Back 40. Ever heard of Backyard Orchard Culture? It's a practice of the mildly insane. The thinking goes somewhat like this: why stop with one fruit tree when you can have three? Think of a harvest season lasting a solid month rather than just a week or two. Go ahead -- make my day -- and plant three fruit trees in that hole you just dug for one and see what happens.

Tree Ripened Nectarines Sweet with Juice

This sickness is fed by horticulturists who tinker with this and that -- call it the "natural order of things" -- when it comes to fruit trees. At one time in our recent past? You couldn't grow blueberries west of the Mississippi River. Blackberries without thorns was an oxymoron. And who had heard of a pluot 15 years ago? Get my drift? Thanks to our friends at Dave Wilson Nursery and others, there's so much new stuff to experience that it's tough to stop at "just one."

When you catch a sickness like this, that "perfect spot in the yard" for a fruit tree is snapped up fairly quickly. Oh, sure, you might find another "perfect spot" or two over time, but conventional backyards in conventional subdivisions only offer so much room. Pretty soon you'll find yourself tearing out shrubs against a lonely wall of your house because "shrubs are boring."

Our Nectarine Jungle

That's what I found myself doing some four years ago -- during an NFL Playoff football game no less. There are times in my life where it would have taken a loaded gun to drag me away from an NFL playoff football game. Instead -- on this day -- my life was consumed not with football, but rather, Flavortop and Fantasia. Those happen to be the first two nectarines I planted against that side wall. I would add the Arctic Jay, the world's best white nectarine, a few days later.

Why nectarines? If you get afflicted with this "grow your own" disease, the answer is "why not." People will question your sanity at the time, but will eventually come round to your way of thinking. They'll tell you: "It will never work." But, in reality, who can ignore that white nectarine tree in the front yard? Suddenly, and without warning mind you, the people who either laughed or questioned your moves, are stealing fruit from right under your nose.

Flavortop Nectarines

This is why I've chosen to rename my white nectarine tree from "Arctic Jay" to "Ghostly White." Do you recall what Casper the Friendly Ghost was most famous for? If your guess is "vanish," you're right on the money but you don't win a white nectarine. You see -- I don't have any left to give. I didn't get any myself. Over the space of ten days this month every last white nectarine on the "Ghostly White" tree up and VANISHED. I mean GONE.

Where did they go? Good question. Did a bird invade and take them all? That would have been one big bird, and no, this was no thieving bird. I have a strong suspicion that this was a thief of the two-legged and no wings variety. Someone in the neighborhood developed a taste for tree-ripened nectarines.

This is your reward for planting those nectarine trees in the FRONT yard. On this fine morning I am singing the farmer's lament: There's always next year...

One Tomato, Two Tomato, Oh Lord!

Who Put These in my Sink?

And so it begins. It's that daily ritual when the summer garden that you've worked so hard to plant and nurture finally begins to pay off with....More work.

WTF? Who signed me up for this?

It's that time in the summer when every green tomato plant is showing several different shades of summer color. When you start to notice big rigs on the highway loaded down with paste tomatoes headed to the nearest cannery, you know that treasured season has arrived at last. Heirloom tomato season is here.

Oh, Dear Lord...

It announced itself with a proverbial bang this past weekend. Both the wife that is Venus and I knew that we would probably be required to do a bit of early-season canning based upon the ripe tomatoes we could spot growing near the base of each plant.

But when we discovered that those one or two ripened tomatoes held a treasure trove of five to six or ten more? We knew we were in for a job. When just the chore of harvesting leaves you grasping for the nearest bottle of cold water and perhaps a little relief from a fan lined up in front of the air conditioner, you've got a job on your hands.

And what a job it was.

The Lush Queen Tomato

Venus and I had been expecting to can about seven to ten quarts of whole tomatoes when we first surveyed the garden that Saturday morning. We badly underestimated. Twenty quarts wasn't going to hold what we took from the garden that morning -- and the tomatoes just continue to ripen at a rather maddening pace.

So this is what overload means.

Venus and I normally can a variety of heirloom tomato dish options during our home-canning adventures. There's the famous and always-in-demand Roasted Garlic, Pepper and Heirloom Tomato Salsa and the equally scrumptious Herbed Tomato Sauce.

Venus Peels Skins Off Whole Tomatoes

But we had a problem. The tomatoes came a little earlier than normal this year. I'm not sure if it's that spell of 100-degree heat that caused the early ripening, or the pains we took at plant out last April. Whatever it was, it spelled a boatload of tomatoes and the kind of harvest one would expect in mid-August -- not July.

Since the peppers weren't quite ready for large scale harvest just yet -- and salsa depends wide varieties and numbers of peppers -- salsa was out. As for the Herbed Tomato Sauce? We still have a jar or two of that stuff leftover from last year's harvest. Why make more?

Skins Off! Time for Canning!

But whole tomatoes? We use that stuff all the time and ran through the last quart from last year's harvest back in March. And so? The project for this day? Can whole tomatoes for winter. Because there's nothing quite like popping open a can of home-canned, vine-ripened tomatoes from your own garden during the dead of winter. It springs the smell of a summer garden into your kitchen -- which is nice -- because the calendar says December and it's damn cold outside.

Canning whole tomatoes also happens to be one of the easier home canning projects. Simply wash the fruit, remove the cores, peel the skins, stick them in jars, add a tablespoon of bottled lemon juice or two plus a dab of salt and you're day is done after you process the completed haul in a pressure or water-bath canner. Some growers even prefer to leave the skins on. More power to them. That's one less step for us to take.

Whole Tomatoes? Or Monster Brains???

Jars of home-canned tomatoes look positively funky because the water inside the fruit tends to separate during the canning process. No matter how many tomatoes one jam packs into that one-quart jar -- it's going to come out half tomatoes and half water -- tomatoes at the top and tomato liquid at the bottom.

Yes -- you're right -- it does look a little like something out of Frankenstein's monster. But it's one dish that Baron Victor von Frankenstein would approve of.

Even mad scientists gotta eat sometime. Think about it!

The Pride of June

June Pride Peaches: Bird Back 40

Quick Question?

What does a fruit lover do when a certain overloaded peach tree called the June Pride deliver a sudden whopper of ripe peaches? Two weeks earlier than normal?

Answer: A fruit lover finds 101 ways and more to enjoy peaches. From freshly sliced peaches in the morning to peach cobbler at night -- life is all about stripping that tree in the Bird Back 40 and enjoying the gift that Mother Nature has delivered. And this year -- nature delivered a fat harvest -- as in the largest ever.

Fat Harvest City

I'm talking about a harvest that is so large that there's no need to cover the tree in netting this year. Those marauding fruit thieves known as the mockingbirds can have their fill and more. There's plenty underneath the canopy for my needs and the needs of other fruit lovers. Plus -- Bandi can help herself to that fruit on the lower branches. Everyone gets a treat this year.

And what a treat this June Pride season was. And still is. Believe it or not -- some of those peaches still aren't quite soft enough to pull off the tree. I'm one of those "no peach will be picked before its time," kinda people. Picking a peach while it's still as hard as a rock, before it's been given a chance to fully tree ripen, is a criminal act in my book.

June Pride Snacks

Not everyone subscribes to this theory, mind you. But in my humble opinion, there's nothing quite like a peach that's been allowed to ripen on a tree.

Planted during the 2008 bare root season in tandem with the O'Henry Peach variety, the June Pride finally got comfortable with its Bird Back 40 surroundings last year and nearly doubled in size. This is one of the few fruit trees that I don't need to prune much because I gave it a lot of space to grow. And grow it has. Most of last year's growth took place after the main harvest in early July, and I'm hopeful for the same kind of output this year.

Once you've had one whopper harvest? You'll always want another. And another. And another. Because I'm greedy like that. I have a love for summertime peaches fresh off the tree. The seeds of this love were planted by my father and brother many moons ago in Modesto, when my father acquired two peach trees from a grove that would be bulldozed to the ground to make way for new housing.

Peaches Don't Come From a Can

Those mature peach trees would help feed a family of four kids after dad took off in 1967 and eventually died in 1973. Food was a little hard to come by during the lean years so when fresh peach season hit? It was "Game On" for the Bird family. Fresh peach pie, peach cobbler, peaches with cream, peaches with milk and sugar, it was all on the menu. Peaches that fell off the tree were rescued and saved. Even the peaches with worm holes were a welcome treat -- as long as you avoided that worm.

Who knows? I probably consumed a worm or two back in the day. Call it "extra protein." Growing boys need that.

Peach Ice Cream Anyone?

I am reminded of those youthful beginnings every morning and evening when I check for fresh peaches. Every peach gets a squeeze or two until I've harvested more than enough for what I need. For the peach ice cream? Six quarts of this 4th of July creation, a combination of Paula Deen and Ben and Jerry's recipes, would require about four cups of peeled, ripe peaches. A food processor took care of the rest and the end result of that gooey goodness was dumped into the ice cream maker halfway through the churning process?

End result? Lip smacking peach ice cream!

Despite my love affair with all things peaches -- the June Pride peach isn't the best peach on the planet. It's not nearly as sweet nor as scrumptious as the Elberta peach varieties. It wouldn't last long in a taste test against the O'Henry. But, I can tell you this much: The June Pride is one of the best tasting peaches to ripen this early in the season. There was a time when people were forced to wait until late July or even August to satisfy that fresh peach desire.

Peach Cobbler

But thanks to the efforts of modern day horticulture? That wait is over. New peach selections will ripen as early as May or as late as October, extending the peach harvest season.

That's a lot of peach pie. Happy picking!

A Daughter's Betrayal

Aunt Olga and Bandi

She is safe here among family. Safe to live out her final years with the respect and care she deserves. She will be treasured here -- not used as an ATM. Although she longs for the life and home she left behind in New Mexico, they are the fleeting memories of a gentle soul that has been ravaged by Dementia. Physically? She is gifted with strength and good health at an advanced age. Mentally? Her mind has been ravaged by a terrible disease that will eventually undo a lifetime of glittering accomplishment.

A warning? If you should stumble across this post? It has absolutely nothing to do with vegetable gardening. While there is a Sacramento connection, any connection with the title of the blog ends there. Though vegetable gardening remains my true love, there are things, sights and experiences that have so stained my soul, that I feel compelled to write about them. The pictures and story that are to follow are not pretty. But it's a story that must be told and photos that must be shown.

Meth Abuse is Scary

Unlike most men and women, I spent my 50th birthday on God's Green Earth tiptoeing through the home of a methamphetamine (meth) abuser. I will never forget the sight nor the God awful smell that greeted the wife that is Venus and I, when we stepped into her Aunt Olga's house for the very first time. Though we had been warned to expect the worst, nothing could prepare us for the wretched odors and refuse that greeted us as we stepped through the front door. The fumes were so overpowering that they would drive us out less than 30 minutes later. Environmental testing would have to be performed before we could step back inside.

We had steeled ourselves for this trip to Albuquerque, New Mexico. We knew it was coming. We just weren't sure when. We knew it the moment that Venus received that fateful phone call last summer. Olga's guardian wanted no part of the drama that was unfolding. He was in ill health himself. Venus was the next family member in line. Would she be willing to take on the job of watching over Olga's finances?

Olga's mental health had been in decline since she moved from Sacramento in 2003. We begged her not to go. "What's in Albuquerque," we asked? "Your family is here, Olga," we argued. But Olga wouldn't listen. The woman had spent a lifetime doing what she wanted to do in life, working for the United States Foreign Services branch and traveling to outposts around the world. After assignments at embassies in Turkey, France, Columbia and other interesting places around the globe, when the urge to travel struck, Olga hopped on a plane and went. Though Olga had since retired from a lifetime of working around the globe, she never did lose the love of travel.

Methamphetamine Abuse Rage

And so Olga left.

As the years passed, we knew that Olga's mental situation continued to deteriorate. There would be repeated phone calls from her from time to time, a clear sign that she was quickly losing her short term memory. We thought it odd to receive a second call from her ten seconds after the first phone call had ended, where she proceeded to relate the exact same story she had related with the earlier phone call. When the third, fourth and fifth phone calls followed just moments later, we knew. Olga was forgetting the simplest of things.

But life is life. Venus was dealing with her own issues right here at home. First, her mother would pass from cancer. Secondly, her father went through a painful battle with rheumatoid arthritis before he lost his battle with lung cancer some years later. Life is just that: life. Olga had a daughter and grandchildren with her in New Mexico. She had adopted Christina from an orphanage in Costa Rica, saved a little girl from a lifetime of grinding third-world poverty and rewarded her with the pampered life of living abroad and an education at the finest of private schools.

Meth Abusers Remove Knobs for Some Strange Reason

It was Christina's turn to care for her mother now. Though we doubted her ability to do just that, there was little we could do from California, other than receive the occasional phone call from Olga (followed by another three to four in quick succession).

It wasn't until Venus received that fateful phone call last year, did we first get the inkling that something had gone terribly wrong. Why would Aunt Olga need a caretaker, a financial guardian of sorts, if her daughter Christina was there to take care of her? Why were Olga's finances in such a mess? House payments hadn't been made in months. Insurance payments were spotty. Cable television service had been shut off and on. A bank was threatening to foreclose on the home. This wasn't Olga. She was the most responsible person on the planet. She worked in interesting places, earned a pension and invested extraordinarily well into companies and land.

What was going on?

By this time, Christina was living with her mother. Her marriage to an abusive husband had finally hit rock bottom (we never could understand why Christina kept going back to him after the numerous beatings he inflicted). Christina's children, Olga's grandchildren, were also living in Olga's home. Our niece, Emily, had been a flower girl in our wedding. That sweet four year old was now approaching age 14. Joseph, the youngest, was nearing age 10.

Plea for Help from 15-Year Old Meth Abuser

It wasn't until Venus got a first look at her aunt's accounts did she realize the true breadth of the problem. Olga had been forgetting simple things like making house payments, insurance payments and payments on bills for quite some time. Her house was also falling apart around her. Although well-meaning friends would make appointments with service people for repairs, Olga would forget them five minutes later and repairs would never be made.

And where was Christina in all of this? She was living with her mother. She wasn't working. She wasn't providing any sort of financial help to her mother -- if anything -- her mother offered her an escape from an abusive relationship. So why couldn't Christina make these payments? Why couldn't Olga's 41-year old daughter keep up with the bills? Keep those appointments with service personnel?

So many questions. So little in the way of answers. They would eventually reveal themselves, but the answers were slow in coming. In the meantime, the abuse of Olga, which we had been unaware of, intensified.

Family did this to Family

To start making payments on various bills as Olga's financial guardian, Venus would first have to gain control of Olga's bank accounts. One simply doesn't wave a wand and gain control over someone else's bank accounts. It takes written orders from a physician and a court order for such things to happen. Venus would need a physician to certify that Olga was no longer capable of handling day-to-day affairs and should not be trusted with financial decisions. A Superior Court judge would then have to agree.

While we still couldn't quite understand why Christina wasn't helping in the slightest, Olga was fortunate enough to still have friends from her days in the U.S. Foreign Service. Quite a number of them had also retired to Albuquerque. A few of them were still close to Olga. Venus would set up the doctor's appointments and her friends would help Olga get to where she needed to be.

As Venus began to gain control over Olga's accounts, the first signs of elder abuse emerged. The whispers of abuse from many of Olga's trusted friends also grew louder. Nobody likes a rat. But to sit idly by and allow the unabated abuse of another while doing nothing about it is just as wrong.

Bathroom of a Meth Abuser

Money was missing. Vast sums of money was missing. Entire accounts that held tens of thousands of dollars had been completely drained. Where had the money gone? Olga had forgotten the existence of these accounts so very long ago that it was useless to ask her that question, but what about Olga's daughter? What did Christina know?

I can't remember at which point that Venus learned that Christina had somehow obtained an ATM card to her mother's accounts. But by following the financial trail that the card left behind, it wasn't hard to find out what happened to most of Olga's life savings. Christina made no attempt to hide it. She had siphoned off tens of thousands of dollars in a matter of months. When Venus took action to cut off the card, that's when the real drama started.

And you thought it was filled with enough drama already? This could be a book called: DRAMA.

Nice Artwork: NOT

"HOW DARE YOU TAKE MY MONEY," the first indignant email message exclaimed. "MY MOTHER PROMISED ME THIS MONEY WHEN SHE DIED," another indignant email message exclaimed. "THIS IS MY MONEY," said yet another.

It was useless to explain simple financial things to Christina. Things such as, one, it wasn't her money, it was her mother's, simply flew over her head. Gently reminding her that her mother hadn't died yet also failed to register. Reminding her again, that she needed to work and make her own money, also missed the mark. She just wouldn't get it, or refused to get it. The free-wheeling and free-spending days of draining her mother's accounts had come to an abrupt end.

Venus had to operate very carefully in this matter. She was under a court order from a Superior Court judge in Albuquerque, NM that any money from her aunt's accounts had to be used for the care of her aunt and nothing else. Bean counters were watching her every move. Venus would need to retain the services of not only an attorney to advise her in these matters, she would also need the assistance of a home-care guardian.

Meth Abuse isn't Pretty

Home life with Olga was falling apart quickly. Christina was now forced to justify every expense, something a meth abuser often has to lie about. Meth abusers are very adept liars. They're good at it. Meth abusers will sell their soul, your soul and the souls of their children before they give up the addiction to that white powder. A teacher who has witnessed the children of meth abusers recently told us: "I would tell you that the children of meth abusers look like they've been raised by wolves, but that would be a disservice to wolves."

The full horror of what had taken place over a matter of years was starting to unfold before our eyes. It wouldn't become completely clear until arrest reports arrived in our mailbox. They were arrest reports from Albuquerque, NM at the home of Venus' aunt. They detailed noise complaints, arrests for drug sales, arrests for drug abuse, citations for failed drug tests. The flower girl at our wedding, that sweet four year old girl, was now 15 and going on 50. She had just flunked her entire first year of high school. Worse yet, she'd failed a drug test.

By this time? The home-care guardian that Venus had retained for Olga's care had taken steps to remove Olga from her home and into an assisted care facility. Christina couldn't even care for her mother. While she had gone out night after night, procuring drugs for herself and her daughter, Olga wandered off. The old lady walked a mile to the nearest grocery store, where she proceeded to trip, fall and break her elbow. The helpful store attendants who came to her aide were stupified. They found a woman who could not remember her name nor where she lived.

That was the final straw. Olga would be moved into an assisted living facility where she could get the care that she needed, and, at the same time, offered her the protection she needed from an abusive daughter who had stolen most of her life savings for one methamphetamine fueled party after another.

The final step would be removing Christina and her children from her mother's home. Olga could never be allowed to go back home, and could never again be allowed in the presence of her abusive and addicted daughter without court supervision. Christina did not go easily, but go she did. Eviction laws in New Mexico aren't quite as complex as eviction laws in California, children or no children.

It was only after Christina had been forced to leave the home, did Venus and I make the flight out. We would spend nearly ten days living out of a suitcase. Much of the time was wasted because we feared methamphetamine contamination inside the home. You can't just "fix up" and sell a home that has been contaminated by meth abuse. The chemicals are toxic and sink into walls and surfaces. No amount of regular cleaning or painting will remove them. Environmental cleansing is often prescribed and is now the law in New Mexico. It isn't cheap either.

As for Olga? We received court permission to move Olga from a residential facility in Albuquerque to a special facility here in California. Here she can be safely hidden from her abusive daughter. She can be challenged mentally with a series of activities and events that serve her much better than just sitting around in front of some TV, forgetting every mundane moment after another.

I've often joked to Venus, that if this is the reward for living a long and healthy life? I'm going to keep right on drinking. But let this be a warning. Abuse happens. It happens in all families. From the wealthiest of families to the poorest, we share a common tale of woe. This is a warning.

###

POSTSCRIPT: Olga's daughter, Christina, and her daughter (our niece) live in a run down apartment complex and continue to place blame on every family member for their woes. Like most drug abusers, they approach family members from time to time with a plea for money. There is not much we can do for them. They must help themselves first before the family can step in an help, and yes, that includes the 15-year old going on 50. As for the son, he was recently removed from his mother's care and has been placed with his father. As for law enforcement? Police and prosecutors in Albuquerque and Bernalillo County have bigger fish to fry. Though there are laws on the books against elder abuse, they are rarely enforced. And, as bad as our case was, those who deal with this tragedy on a day to day basis say it's not the worst case they've seen before. I shudder to think how it could have been any worse.