--Update 8--
I had a few more photos from my visit to
Jen Anderson's retreat site in western Arizona. Along with New Mexico the previous week, this was my first visit to the American Southwest. It's been a massive learning experience for me. While I understand that all of nature is in a constant battle for survival everywhere you look, this reality was shown in stark relief in such a beautiful - and extreme - environment.
Jen,
Leo, and I transplanted and planted a number of trees during my visit. Here are two
dwarf olive trees we moved to a site closer to water. When they grow, they'll also offer some shade to a nearby structure, plus establish an overstory for shrubs and grasses.
We removed two dried-out
fig trees across the path from the olives, and added these two in their place. The soil was so completely full of rocks...! Jen and I both worked to remove as many as possible, then return the arable soil along with some garden
compost, much more full of organic material.
Two more fig trees made their way into the ground, on the southeast slope by Jen's house. They'll be irrigated with the help of her impressive greywater system and additional well water.
...Did I mention the ground was full of rocks? Sometimes they bite back against the tools I used...
The new site for this transplanted
Orange Jubilee shrub was full of 'em. It took two sessions of shoveling, picking, and rock-bar shoving to clear it out. But the shrub had been growing too big for it's barrel, and I think it'll be much happier with some cleared-out space to stretch its
roots.
This
cat claw vine was transplanted to a more trellised, vine-friendly spot up at the house, so that it provides some additional passive cooling during the hottest months.
There was another slope across the property that had little vegetation and simply sloughed water during the July monsoons. To arrest some of this flow and give plants a chance to use some of this water, Leo and I started a couple swales on the hillside. The land's previous owners had installed a couple conduit-covered power and septic lines just a bit below the surface, so we had to work around those. The good news is that after this task was sorted out, I think the on-site plants will have a much easier time using all that water before it just washes away.
The strategy to begin was similar to
digging out water trenches at Wheaton Labs. Step one: rough it out. I dragged a shovel along the natural contour of the hillside.
The idea behind a swale is to delay the downward flow of water by using earthworks. The slope ends at the downhill mound: the part that holds the collected water. The easiest way to achieve this is to gradually move the soil and rocks you dig out of the trough to build up the mound right next to it.
The end result is a gentle slope, a flat-bottomed trough (that will later be leveled), and a gentle, earthen mound below it. If it were a steeper angle going down the hill, then terraces would likely be a more effective strategy. At least for this site, we figured swales would work well enough. Again, this is a site that Jen will need to observe when rains come, and then provide some fine-tuning to optimize its water-retention abilities.
Jen's property is a large, former mining site that stretches over 300 acres in remote western Arizona. She offered to take me on a hiking tour over the land, and I was happy to head out. I pulled-on my snake
boots and we headed out across desert scrub, wash valleys, and excavation sites.
In one of the nearby canyons, there was a large cleft carved out of the rocks. We drew closer and saw lots of dry grasses and vegetable matter tucked inside. Jen explained this was likely a large pack rat nest, and it's best to avoid them.
The land was also a time capsule. The mining company had left construction equipment and building materials all over the place. Jen's stories about finding caches of landscape timber, motors, pipes, and other "decommissioned" mining equipment reminded me of the stories I'd heard of
Wheaton Labs' earlier years, where a lot of time and effort was spent to take out the trash.
Jen also explained her dilemma in repelling the
wild burro marauding across the landscape. I'd heard of wild horses wandering around Assateague Island back on the east coast where I came from, but never realized that "leftover" pack animals from previous human civilization and the more-recent mining operations could be such a problem.
With the deliberate loss of natural predators such as grey wolves, the burro population remains unchecked. I never knew a donkey could be considered the apex of a food web...! As a result, they're eating all manner of vegetation, including the indigenous
palo verde tree. This also has the knock-on effect of injuring
saguaro cactus. The two plants have a symbiotic partnership, and when the palo verde die off from the burro eating their naturally-sweet branches, the cactus soon follow.
This situation poses a serious problem that further degrades and dries out the landscape, and it's something that Jen has had to wrestle with for the past several years. She's hoping that Federal protections on wild burro will soon be relaxed so that she'll have a chance to more directly address the invasion of these wild burro on her land.
I had a wonderful, enlightening time over at Jen's place...! I learned a tremendous deal about a landscape and biome that were completely foreign to me, and Jen was an exceedingly-generous host.
Massive thanks go out to Jen Anderson for allowing me to stay and tinker around on her land this year. Hope to see you in 2026, if not sooner...!
