On a late September morning, I am in a valley cradled by misty mountains. Vivian and I are visiting Jones Creek Farms in Sedro-Woolley. Quick conversations at market with Farmer Les Price often turn into lessons, and it is clear that he is not just a grower, but a researcher, enthusiast, and expert. We know visiting his farm will be a delight and crash course.
Upon arrival, we head first to the greenhouses, where Les and his wife Lynn grow figs, the season nearly over. “I started this as a curiosity 5 or 6 years ago,” Les reports and adds, “Live on the edge! I always liked Fig Newtons.” There are some experimental citrus plants as well, and Jones Creek even managed to bring bags of lemons to markets last year. There is not much information about growing these crops indoors, especially in Washington, but Les leans on his vast knowledge base, researcher mind, and passion for growing. A self-described plant nerd, he worked for WSU Mt. Vernon for five years, and on-and-off for many years after that, analyzing apple varieties from all over the world. It was there he “became interested in interesting crops.”
As we make our way to the orchards, we learn that Les has been farming on this property for decades. He motions towards one of his son’s handprints in concrete that was left in 1993. He’s had workers come and go, but right now it is just he and Lynn who work the farm and staff the markets. Occasionally they have help during prime visitor time, when folks from Seattle come to pick apples and pears and take photos amongst the trees.
Les shares endless information with us, a new noteworthy item emerging every few yards. He makes his own fungicide from plants on the property, like knotweed and nettles. “Who knows if it really works, it’s one of those hippy things.” He smirks, but then continues, “It is part of the reintroduction of beneficial organisms.” We learn about a devastating apple disease that appears twice per year, and the dance that occurs when balancing sterilizing the orchard with getting the beneficials back. “If you go by the book, it tells you to remove any infected trees. That’s a pretty tough pill to take.” He says this matter-of-factly, but I can feel the weight it carries to have love and livelihood so beholden to the elements.
We pass by some machinery including a sprayer that is broken down. A new one has been ordered, but it will take two years to arrive due to COVID-19 disruptions. Les is a self described gearhead and will have to retrofit a pump in the meantime. "Basic machine skills come in handy" on farms, he tells us. I marvel at another skill set this man has.
We arrive at the nursery area. It is a necessary part of the operation, nudging along the evolution of the orchard. "Lynn is becoming quite the expert grafter," he says pridefully as he walks us step-by-step through how they cultivate these new trees.
For me, the remarkable part of Jones Creek Farms has always been the diversity. At market, Les and Lynn have beautiful basket displays of apples, pears, plums, and garlic in varieties that are completely new to me. Les speaks about these specimens the way people speak about wine, about the subtle differences and tasting notes, making me aware of aspects that I had never considered before. I finally learn about his background and approach. Les started by growing wine grapes and tomatoes, but when he sat down and did the math, he realized his future was in apples and direct sales. “Wine grapes only made money in the value added and tomatoes were everywhere, especially BC hothouse. I actually loved growing tomatoes. But I don't love eating them. At least apples I enjoy eating!" In the 1990s, the apple industry crashed. Lots of growers went out of business, with small farms being bought up by the “big guys.” But with a focus on varieties, Les could continue direct sales and survive. When Les talks, I hear the ethic "work smarter, not harder,” as he is so thoughtful and intentional; he calculates what would be best when he makes choices for his farm. I tell him this and he concedes that this wasn't always the case. It is experience.
In total, the farm has more than 200 types of tree fruit and other produce over 34 acres. Moving through the orchard rows, Les provides incredible detail of each variety. He urges Vivian and I to take bites of so many specimens. When we reach a Gem pear, I can’t stop eating it; it is truly the best pear I have eaten in my life. The juice dribbles down my chin. Laughing, Les keeps moving and tells me to toss it aside so I can compare it to another. He describes how most pears in supermarkets aren’t properly stored, and they will never taste as good as ones grown by competent farmers and brought to small markets under the right conditions.
We move on to Asian pears, and then apples in so many shades and sizes, even one that, once bitten, reveals a pink inner flesh. There’s tart, sweet, bitter, and gingery ones. He knows the name of each apple, having even named a few himself over the course of his career, and remarks on them like old friends. He points out some varieties he discovered working at WSU and tells about whether they have been forgotten or are only common in some distant country. After a detour to see the creek and check for salmon, we arrive at the cider apples, where there is a waiting list to pick these for local cider makers. These are not to be eaten raw because of the bitter tannins and astringency, both of which make them ideal for fermentation while still maintaining their apple taste. “For these, you just shake the tree and the ones that fall are the ones that have ideal ripeness.”
Somehow, two hours had passed and it was time for us to leave the farm. My head spins with all the information bestowed upon us. After farewell and thanks, I head towards my vehicle. My belly is full of apples and pears, but I also have a couple of favorites tucked away in my rain jacket pockets; I couldn’t bear to throw them to the ground and anticipate snacking on them for the rest of the afternoon.
Written by: Liz Paruchuru, Market Engagement Manager
