I received a surprise this week, when I visited the former site of the Wally Smith family farm. I knew there had been changes over the years but was not prepared for what I was about to encounter.

The driveway to the farmhouse did not look well used so that should have been a hint of things to come. Almost everything recognizable was gone. Even the house which was green when I lived in it, was yellow and the house seemed smaller now. There was a more recent but dilapidated shed erected northwest of the house. The sawdust bin, the wood shed, and the stuccoed out-house, all gone. Only the walnut tree remained and now was a behemoth shooting for the sky.

A neighbor, whose name is Mike, came over to where we parked the car. I asked permission to walk around the old place, which we received.  Looking east beyond the house was a heart wrenching sight for me, for all I saw was clumps of tall dead grass. The only visible trees were those of surviving poplars near the water’s edge of Park Rill, for the beavers were having their way. Since there was no one to care what the beavers did, the critters had backed up the water to the highest I had ever seen. Even the lower dry areas where I played as a child were now marshy and full of cat tails. Grampa Smith’s small house was a shell too. According to Mike, the local kids called it a haunted house.

Someone had cut all the apple trees to the ground but had not pulled out the stumps. As far as the eye could see, the stumps had sprouted and the branches now were as tall as the highest of the grass. Somewhere in the future that land will be a tangled mass of apple branches.

The whole farm is a mere shadow of it’s former glory. To me the tragedy is that none of the owners were able to embrace the vision of fruit farming as Wally had done. Wally had the farm well organised. All the hydrants were arranged to give maximum access for irrigation. Everything had a place and was in place.  All one needed to do was to fill Wally’s shoes. Apparently it was not that simple though, for each successive owner had ideas that contributed to the current neglect.

Wally had a cousin named Jim Stewart. Jim’s farm was across the highway from Wally’s. Jim and Wally had an ongoing discussion about vineyards. Jim always claimed that vineyards were the future of the Valley. Wally always nay-sayed the idea; claimed that only fruit farming should be pursued. Look at the two farms today. Jim’s former farm is planted in grapes and is making money for its owners while Wally’s former farm is in total disarray. With the exception of a small piece of cultivated land near the highway, the vast majority is not in agricultural use.

It has taken 50 years for the farm to degrade to where it is today, but I’m very glad that I was part of the success of the original homestead. I’ll tuck that away and continue to remember the good times.