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OAK
TREES &
VINEYARDS 2:
OAK
TREES:
MAGIC OR WEEDS?
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OAK
FORESTS ARE MAGICAL PLACES
Photo:
Zoe Nathan
PART
ONE: A FAMILY STORY My
point of view writing about oaks and vineyards.
PART TWO: OAK TREES: MAGIC OR WEEDS? Focuses on California oaks and my life with them. This section
outlines the challenges faced by California oaks.
PART FIVE: AFTER THE STORM Are the oaks safe now?
PART FOUR: SELF HELP RESOURCES. OK I'm going to just say it. Wine is an alcoholic beverage and, as such, potentially addictive. Which no one seems to care about. where I live. But if you think you have a problem, here are some places to get help.
E-MAIL
US
FOR
INFORMATION & PERSONAL ASSISTANCE CONTACT:
M. A. D. D.: MOTHER'S
AGAINST DRUNK DRIVING
ANTI- ADDICTION SELF HELP
RESOURCES
When
I was a youngster, I rode my horse through the rolling hills of
Woodside, a small town on the San Francisco Peninsula. I'd cross
the street from the barn, wander up a dusty trail-- and enter
paradise. In those days, you could ride across the magnificent
estates that dotted the town, over the hills to Huddart Park and
public open space. A person on a horse was welcome just about
anywhere. I'd cross the golden meadows, marveling. I love the
rolling hillsides of my home state. California's grass covered
curves remind me of ripe female forms draped across the land.
Luscious. Sensuous.
Ornamenting the hills--- oak trees. Oak trees everywhere. They
dotted the flat meadows, ranged themselves over the hills, and
packed in tightly when the hills approached the coastal range.
The oaks skirmished briefly with the redwoods as hills turned
steeper. The redwoods won: the mountains were their domain. Riding
through the redwoods was like riding through a cathedral: Hushed.
Beams of light barely illuminated the forest floor. Small fuzzy
trees with green-gold hands held up to catch the light. All of
it was sacred. Like seeing God's face writ in bark and leaves,
in trunk and root. All if it shaping who I am. I am so grateful
we moved among those trees, my horse and I.
The oaks stood alone in the golden pastures. Craggy. Defiant.
Ancient. Stronger than anything. It seemed they'd stand forever--
and as long as they stood, all would be well with the world. And
with me. That's how children see things. I couldn't for the life
of me see why anyone would harm an oak tree. I couldn't imagine
California without them.
Life changed for me, inevitably. I became an adult, entered a
period of school and work and kids. Before I knew it, thirty years
had passed. I lived in Woodside, the town where I rode as a child.
Adults don't seem to notice things like kids do. I drove past
oak meadows every day and didn't really see. One day, I noticed.
"Those trees look awful!" I was driving down Sand Hill road by
Stanford's linear accelerator center. The oaks looked terrible.
Some were dead-- beautiful even as standing corpses, branches
twisted and gnarled. Having more character than most living people.
Others were withered and mangy, leaves brown and mildewed. Not
thriving. What had happened to the oaks of the San Francisco Peninsula
I had known as a child? These oaks I looked at were on Stanford
land-- I knew Stanford hadn't done anything to them. Why where
they dying? Could it be these ancient creatures couldn't tolerate
their new neighbors? People?
I thought, "That's a shame," and kept driving, I had lots to do.
Always lots to do. What a shame about the oaks, though.

A
DEAD OAK ON STANFORD LAND--
How many people have this much character?
Photo:
Zoe Nathan
We
moved from the Peninsula down to Santa Barbara county about seven
years ago. Our horse bug prompted the move: too many horses, not
enough land. When we hit our new digs, concern about oak trees
faded. The oaks of Santa Barbara County were thriving, bursting
with life as far as I could see. We live in a horsy subdivision.
When we moved in, someone said, "Don't even think of cutting an
oak. The county will be on you so fast your head will spin." Well,
we didn't think of cutting oaks, but it made me feel safe to know
that the county was so environmentally conscious. The oaks were
safe.
I love this place as much as I loved my old home. Maybe more.
I'm including a few pictures of the Santa Ynez Valley. Some pictures
of the National Forest which surrounds us. Other photos taken
close to my house. The pictures don't come near the beauty of
this place. When I drive up over the San Marcos Pass and see the
Valley spread below, it takes my breath away: every time, year
after year. Oak savannah, it's called. Pristine meadows are dotted
with huge oaks. Gigantic oaks. Gnarled and tough. Dotted over
the meadows as though planted by a master hand.
If
anyone needed proof of the existence of God, that view should
do it. Only God could create that vast perfection. The meadows
yield to hills, soft limestone hills. Surprisingly, this environment
is fragile: every winter brings new washouts, streaking the brush
covered rises with white. The mix of colors is astounding and
subtle. Sage green-- from real sage. Darker greens from other
plants. Wildflowers exploding in spring. Sexy tufts of yucca flower
spikes. Mountains shaped and formed and colored in a way no artist
could imitate. Exquisite. The view you see over the San Marcos
Pass is protected-- it's National Forest. Permanent open space.
Safe.

SANTA
YNEZ VALLEY FROM THE SAN MARCOS PASS
Photo:
Zoe Nathan
Just
seven years ago, I didn't know that California's oaks are under
siege. I didn't realize the oaks I saw on the San Francisco Peninsula
were part of a Statewide blight. Even where the oaks are protected,
they are dying. For instance, the Sedgwick Ranch in Santa Ynez
is now part of the US Natural Reserve System. It has been spared
from human predation. Yet ecologists studying aerial photos find
that between 1940 and now, more than 20 percent of the trees on
Sedgwick have died. They aren't reproducing. At first, cattle
were blamed for this-- but scientists are finding that the oaks
don't regenerate even when the cattle are removed. Other predators--
squirrels, rabbits, grasshoppers, deer, were the next target for
blame, but they may not explain what's happening. Acorns seem
to sprout, but not grow past seedlings into baby trees. Scientists
are studying the problem-- but it's a puzzle. One I sure could
see in Woodside. Those trees looked awful.
But this is not the real enemy devastating the oaks. In the last
15 years, about 300,000 acres of oak woodland have been lost.
The pace of destruction is increasing. What is the plague? The
wine industry. The wine industry represents the worst threat to
our oaks in history. I didn't know anything about this when we
moved to the Santa Ynez Valley. I never thought about vineyards
we moved for the horse property.
I heard about it from a friend: a major vintner cut some forty
200 to 300 year old oaks on a part of his property invisible from
the road. He did it so he could plant his new vines in straight
rows. It's cheaper and easier that way. I was sick. Shocked.
"How
can he do that?" I asked. "I thought the county protected the
oaks."
Not
on agricultural property. Ag property is in a different zoning
classification than our ranchette. Oaks have no protection on
agriculturally zoned land. I still didn't get it. How someone
could cut 40 massive oaks? Especially someone so wealthy? This
man was very, very rich. Very, very well known. He didn't need
the extra money straight rows of grapes would earn. Couldn't he
plant around the trees? You see oaks in some vineyards. Why couldn't
he plant around them?
This was the tip of the iceberg. In November of 1997, commuters
on Highway 101 in Los Alamos drove off the road in horror. Gigantic
bulldozers were cutting down oak trees right along the freeway.
Kendall Jackson Winery was putting in its prestigious new "Camelot"
Vineyard. They destroyed over 800 trees to make sure that their
grape rows were straight-- and set off a major controversy. This
time, the people had seen.
A public outcry arose, causing the county to examine its photo
records. Over 2,000 oak trees had been cut between 1996 and 1998--
all to put in vineyards. This is more trees than were cut for
all types of development in the previous 10 years. Santa Barbara
County is the hot new area for viniculture, you see. We're chic.
We're written up in all the wine magazines. Vineyards and wineries
are now almost the largest industry in the county. The biggest
money maker. What the vineyards did was absolutely legal.
Whereas
I would be crucified if I cut down an oak in my front yard, Kendall
Jackson can bulldoze 800 with impunity on agricultural land. The
County Board of Supervisors, those environmental watchdogs, refused
to ban or regulate the cutting.
Some people, including myself, thought this unpardonable. The
glove was thrown.
* * *
The glove was thrown, and it stayed thrown for a long time. Vintners ranted about controls on the number of oaks they could cut destroying them financially. Smacking of socialism. Or worse. Environmentalists ranted about the lack of ecological sensitivity and maybe humanity of the vintners.
Things did change. For instance, I understand an internal change in Kendall Jackson's ownership resulted in it becoming one of the most ecologically concerned and sound vineyards. That's a surprise!
I don't really know what happened to the attempts at government regulation of oak cutting. Whatever happened, Santa Ynez Valley has become Disneyland for wine drinkers. Businesses in the five townships in my end of the valley have mostly converted to wine tasting emporiums and shops. Wine tourists swarm the streets year round.
And my father remains dead, killed by a drunk driver who'd been sipping wine.
Does anyone care? Not that i can see. I'm considered a very extreme case. I care about people's livers, brains, and lives as well as trees.
Photo:
Zoe Nathan
Information
in this section came from: "From Little Acorns", Frederick Golden,
Los Angeles Times, June 4, 1998.
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AUTHOR SANDY NATHAN IS THE WINNER OF SEVENTEEN NATIONAL AWARDS!

SANDY NATHAN
Click to go to sandynathan.com
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STEPPING OFF THE EDGE: LEARNING & LIVING SPIRITUAL PRACTICE
A MODERN SPIRITUAL COMPANION
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NUMENON
A TALE OF MYSTICIAM & MONEY MENON
"BILL GATES MEETS DON JUAN." |
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TECOLOTE: THE LITTLE HORSE THAT COULD
BORN PREMATURELY ON A FREEZING NIGHT, THE COLT HAD TO FIGHT FOR HIS LIFE. |
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THE ANGEL & THE BROWN-EYED BOY
A FUTURE WORLD ONLY HEARTBEATS FROM OUR OWN |
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