Jan’s Orchard Notes: What 30 Harvests Have Taught Me About Patience

Those of you who know me probably wouldn’t call me overly patient. 😊 But on the other hand, I can be incredibly patient.

I guess it depends upon the subject of the patience.

Which makes it somewhat ironic that I chose to build a business around farming. Because nature does not care about my to-do list. And I love my lists!

A Business With a Mind of Its Own

This business started for me in 1998. I honestly lose track of the exact purchase date of the farm from Al Piggott because it took a long time to negotiate the deal. And once I got it, there was certainly no mistaking that I had my work cut out for me. The orchard was messy. There was an old barn with a few old tanks that had originally come from a dairy farm. There was a house, but no tasting bar, no Eatery, no retail store, and not even a washroom.

It was definitely not set up to welcome people to the farm. There were two employees, a rep, a pop cooler holding cider for the occasional customer who made it down the driveway, and a handful of accounts carrying our cider. It was not exactly a thriving enterprise.

But the bones were there – The land was planted. There was an orchard. There was a house. And I had a vision. Grow it. Make it. Sell it. How hard could it be?

Well, as it turns out, some things take longer than you would like. And one of those things was nature.

Nature Doesn’t Take Direction Well

You can make a business plan. You can make a budget. You can make a schedule. Then nature looks at your plan and says, “That’s nice.”

Blossom happens when it happens. Apples ripen when they are ready. Weather changes plans. And fermentation takes its own sweet time.

After almost 30 harvests that I have witnessed, I’ve learned that you can create the conditions for something good to happen. You can prepare, protect, monitor and respond. But you cannot make nature perform on command.

And it isn’t just the weather. There are the creatures. Here’s a very pointed example: One year, a whole herd of elk got into the orchard and took out about 70% of it.

Seventy percent! No, we didn’t have the trees insured. Apparently, that is the sort of detail you learn after the elk have eaten 70% of your orchard.

And then there are the bears. You can put up fences. You can monitor the orchard. You can do all the sensible things you are supposed to do. But bears are remarkably good at finding ways around your plans – Over the fence, under the fence, around the fence. They will just barge there way in. They are persistent, resourceful and apparently very fond of apples. Honestly, I have to admire their commitment.

Learning to Work With Nature

The answer isn’t to try to control everything. It is to understand what you can control and prepare for what you can’t. You need to pay attention.

There is actually a word for observing the seasonal changes happening around us: phenology. Farmers have always had to notice these things, and I had to learn to notice them too. And that has probably been one of the greatest gifts buying this business gave me.

The Magic Is in the Noticing

There was a time when harvest was mostly about getting things done. Get the apples picked, pressed, and into the tanks. Now I find myself stopping to notice the things I used to rush past – the first apples changing colour, the smell of the orchard, the sound of the press and the people who have come to be part of the harvest.

There is always something unfolding. You just have to slow down enough to see it. And perhaps that is what farming has taught me most about patience.

It isn’t about sitting around waiting. It is knowing when to act, when to prepare and when to leave things alone.

I don’t think I am necessarily more patient than I was 30 years ago. I think I’ve simply become more comfortable with the fact that I am not in control.

And there is an enormous amount of freedom in that.

You Can’t Buy This Kind of Joy

There is a particular kind of happiness that comes from being outside during an apple harvest. It isn’t polished or manufactured. It is the smell of fresh juice, the warmth of the afternoon sun, the sound of the press, a dog wandering through the courtyard, or watching someone taste a cider and suddenly understand what all the fuss is about.

A little piece of nature doing exactly what it has been doing for thousands of years, whether we are paying attention or not. Those are the moments I have come to treasure, and quite frankly, it has extended into the other parts of my life, too.

Maybe that is the biggest lesson of so many harvests – Life doesn’t always get better because we make it happen. Sometimes it gets better because we stop long enough to notice what is already happening.

So come spend a little time with us this harvest. Walk through the orchard. Watch the apples being picked. Listen to the press. Have lunch. Taste some BC cider. Sit for a while. You don’t have to know anything about apples. You don’t have to be a farmer. You don’t even have to be particularly patient. Just slow down enough to look around.

I guarantee you’ll fall in love with some little piece of it.

And that, in my experience, is the very best kind of bliss. The kind you can’t buy. The kind most of us are searching for.