Tag: trailer

Straining Water Supplies in the Southwest

  • Nancy and Dave Tom bought this home near Apache Junction, Arizona. They have to haul all the water they use with their pickup truck, so they quickly learned how to conserve. (Photo by Mark Brush)

Many areas in the Southwest are booming. With all this new
development, pressures on water supplies are growing. Mark Brush takes
a look at the lengths people go to, to get water in the desert:

Transcript

Many areas in the Southwest are booming. With all this new
development, pressures on water supplies are growing. Mark Brush takes
a look at the lengths people go to, to get water in the desert:


Nancy and Dave Tom used to get their water from a city water supply.
That was back when they owned a home in Tempe, Arizona. Like a lot of
people in the area, they had a pool, plants that needed water year
round, and a green lawn out back. Not exactly a desert scene. It took
a lot of water to support their lifestyle.


But life in Tempe was getting crowded. And when somebody rang their
doorbell and offered to buy their house for almost twice what they paid for
it, they jumped at the chance to move to a smaller town.


(Sound of birds)


They found a house for sale just outside of Apache Junction. It’s a
small city in the desert about an hour’s drive from Phoenix. The house
is at the foot of a dry mountain range and has spectacular views. But
the house didn’t have city water service:


“When we saw this piece of property we pretty much fell in love with it
immediately. And it was stated in the multiple listings that you did
have to haul water. And that the water trailer conveyed with the
property (laughs).”


(Sound of hooking up the truck)


To get their water, Dave Tom hooks up a trailer with a big plastic
water tank. He tows the trailer about 4 miles into Apache Junction.
There’s a water filling station here. He gets about 90 gallons of
water for each quarter dropped into the machine:


(Sound of truck parking)


“I’ve got my four quarters here – we’re going to put it in the vending
machine and have at it.”


(Sound of quarter and water rushing)


He makes about two trips a week, so he figures they’re using about 600
gallons of water a week. That’s quite a bit less than the 6000 gallons
they were using in Tempe.


Some of the things they did to cut back were obvious. Since they no
longer had a pool – and they didn’t water a green lawn – that helped.
But in their new place, they also bought a high efficiency washer and
dishwasher. And, when they don’t have guests around, they cut down on
the number of times they flush the toilet.


And they’re not alone in trying to cut back on water use. Even their
neighbors who have a well are really careful with their water. Phil
Reinhart lives just up the road. He’s rigged up a system of gutters
and pipes to catch rain water:


“You see it drains the front of my house and it comes down these
gutters into these storage barrels. And then I have a little pump that
I use and a little twelve volt battery that I use to pump my washing
machine full and then my washing machine then discharges into my citrus
trees – this is a lemon – here, take a lemon back with you.”


Reinhart is careful with his water. And he’s worried that the
population boom will put a strain on his well.


(Sound of water)


The tank on David Tom’s trailer is full. He tries to shut the water
off:


“Alright we’ll push the shutoff button – and watch out, you’re going to
get wet… no the shutoff isn’t working. We’re going to dump 25 to 30, maybe 40,
gallons of water, which to me it’s a shame they need to come down and
fix this.”


(Sound of water flowing)


A lot of this water spilling onto the ground has traveled a long way to
get here. The Central Arizona Project pumps water from the Colorado
River 230 miles away.


“Rather than a river than runs downhill by gravity, we’re a river that
runs uphill by pumps. We’re the largest electric consumer in the state
of Arizona.”


Sid Wilson is the general manager of the Central Arizona Project. He
says most of the water pumped into this region is used for farming.
But with rapid development, that’s expected to change. More water will
be used to service the new homes sprawling out into the desert.


“The CAP right now provides 40% of the water to this area, 40%, and that will increase
some over time.”


Wilson says people are going to continue to move to the Southwest. So,
future water supplies will have to be developed.


Back at their home near Apache Junction, Dave Tom has finished filling
up their underground storage tank. It’s taken him two trips with the
trailer.


(Sound of gurgling)


His wife Nancy says their new home has changed the way they think:


“Life out here in the desert has given me a greater appreciation for
water. There’s a part of me that says this is how everybody should
live in the desert. That they should have that awareness of their
water usage and embrace the fact that you live in the desert rather
than trying to change it into a lush tropical paradise.”


For the Environment Report, I’m Mark Brush.

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Migrant Workers: Reaping Education

  • The migrant children spend a lot of time with their families. In their culture, life revolves around family and community events. (Photo by Gary Harwood )

Lots of farm workers in the U.S. are migrants from Mexico and other southern places.
Many farm owners say they couldn’t be profitable growing food without these migrants.
But the workers are growing something of their own: children. The children are often uprooted. Julie Grant reports on the challenges of educating children whose lives are dictated by the growing season:

Transcript

Lots of farm workers in the U.S. are migrants from Mexico and other southern places.
Many farm owners say they couldn’t be profitable growing food without these migrants.
But the workers are growing something of their own: children. The children are often
uprooted. Julie Grant reports on the challenges of educating children whose lives are
dictated by the growing season:


In this farm town another house or trailer empties nearly every night. The growing season
is over and migrant workers are leaving, headed to Florida, Texas, Mexico, or someplace
else. That means their children will be pulled out of school. Cyndee Farrell is principal
of the elementary school:


“They’ll just not show up. Sometimes we get word, ‘Oh, we’re leaving tomorrow.’ Other
times, if the weather changes over the weekend or whatever happens and they just decide,
oh, we’re going to leave, they pack up and go. They know they can count on us being here when
they return, and we make it work.”


The migrant children leave as most students are just settling in to the semester.


For some migrants, it’s the only schooling they’ll get until they return to Ohio in April or
May, just a few weeks before the end of the school year.


Lisa Hull teaches reading to 4th and 5th graders. She says the migrants add a whole new
culture to this rural school. They laugh a lot and almost always seem happy.


But she says they don’t treat the classroom like the American kids:


“They don’t value education as well as i would say a normal, typical American would.
They have a different lifestyle. They’re easy going. We’re into all the possessions and
stuff, whereas they don’t really care if they have anything.”


The migrant children spend a lot of time with their families. The families are close and
they stay close. In their culture, life revolves around family and community events. One
person’s birthday is usually reason enough for an entire migrant neighborhood to
celebrate.


(Sound of knocking on door)


“Where is everybody?”


It’s Friday night and neighbor Pat Moore drops in on the Soto Family. They’ve just come
in from weeding lettuce in the fields. They’ve been migrating to rural Ohio from outside
Mexico City for more than a decade. The three ‘boys’ are all grown now and have
become U.S. citizens. They all graduated from Mexican high schools. 21 year-old
Alberto Soto also wanted a diploma from an American high school, so he stayed in this
town of Hartville on his own one winter:


“That year, I saw the snow for my first time. Here, it was too cold.”


The whole family is gathered in the living room: all three brothers, two younger sisters.
The mother and father don’t speak English, but they sit and listen, as Alberto Soto
explains why he stayed in Ohio that year:


“To finish my high school, I was in 12th grade. So I think that was important for me.
To get my diploma so I can get a better job, so they can pay me more. An easy job. Not
too hard like in the fields.”


Soto says he cried when his family left. He was lonely. But even after staying that
winter, he still hadn’t learned enough to graduate. He quit school and he’s been working
in the fields with his family since then. His 19 year-old brother Marco Soto has also
become an expert at weeding lettuce. Marco says it’s hard, boring work and he wants to
do something else:


“I think everything is going to be the same every year. And you are not going to learn something to do something because here, is almost the same. Like what you do everyday is going to be the same, like if you want to stay here for the rest of your life, it’s gonna be the same thing and you are not going to learn anything.”


Educators say most migrants need more schooling to improve their lives, but foreign-
born Hispanic students have the highest dropout rate in the U.S. The migrant
neighborhoods in the Hartville area are looking dark these days, but they’ll spring back to
life when the growing season begins again. The public school teachers say they’ll do
their best to keep working with the students who return.


For the Environment Report, I’m Julie Grant.

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Tree Farmer Makes Season Merrier

  • Duke Wagatha drives down from northern Michigan each year to sell his Christmas trees. While in Ann Arbor, he and his crew live in this 1951 Vagabond trailer. (Photo by Mark Brush)

It’s that time of year again – parking lots across the country are filled with Christmas trees. Just about one out of every three people who celebrate Christmas buys a live tree. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Mark Brush spent some time with one tree grower in the height of tree-selling season:

Transcript

It’s that time of year again – parking lots across the country are filled with Christmas trees. Just about one out of every three people who celebrate Christmas buys a live tree. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Mark Brush spent some time with one tree grower in the height of tree-selling season:


(Sound of generator, saws, people chatting)


It’s a crisp afternoon at this Christmas tree lot. That generator you hear is powering the electric saws. The guys trim up the base of the tree so it’ll fit on a tree stand. Their hands are all blackened with sap and dirt from wrestling hundreds of trees off of the flat bed truck. They take the bundled trees, open them up, and stick them onto stands. They’ve created a makeshift forest in the middle of this strip mall parking lot. Customers wander through the forest searching for the perfect tree.


(sound of talking)


Duke Wagatha runs this tree lot in southeastern Michigan. He appears with his trees each year from his farm up north.


“We get here the weekend before Thanksgiving. Takes us probably about a week, or five days to set up. With the idea of opening the day after Thanksgiving. We like to let folks get one holiday out of the way and then we start on the next…”


He calls his business “Flat-Snoots Trees.” You couldn’t tell from looking at his face now, but he calls it “Flat-Snoots” to make light of a broken nose he suffered in high school.


Duke’s coveralls are all tarnished with pine needles and sap. And when he moves, you hear ringing from the bells on his hat. He moves between the trees in his parking lot forest telling his customers jokes and filling their heads with visions of Scotch Pine, Fraser Firs, and Blue Spruce.


Margaret Jahnke has been buying trees from Duke for more than six years.


“He just makes it really personable – and there was one year, it was really kind of warm and he had his Hawaiian shirt on and his straw hat, and he was out here partyin’ away! And I’m like, ‘Whoa!’ It’s fun to come… you know just to run in… you know to talk to him. And they’re really helpful!”


While they’re away from home, Duke and his crew live in a 1950’s vintage trailer. The trailer’s paint is faded, but Duke spruces it up for the holidays with wreaths and pine boughs. And when you step inside, the old lamps and rustic furniture make it seem as if you’ve stepped back in time.


(Sound of trailer door opening)


“Whooo! It feels better in here doesn’t it? I needed a good excuse to get in here.”


The trailer also doubles as his office. Customers pay for their trees in here, and on occasion, they’ll have a complimentary nip of what Duke calls his “bad Schnapps.” Duke is from Mesick, a small rural town in northern Michigan. Christmas tree farming is big business in Michigan. The state is second only to Oregon in the number of acres that are in Christmas tree production.


Duke calls himself a small-time grower. He’s a carpenter by trade, but his work tends to dry up in the long winter months.


“It’s not enough to make a living for me and my family year-round, but it’s a good extra source of income… and, uh… winters are tough up there, so if you make a little bit of extra money – winters are tough and expensive. Living in the country, you know, like anybody, you got propane bills and all that, and it’s a little colder up there, so to make a little bit of money going into winter is pretty nice.”


A lot of work went into growing the trees that are now on his lot. Each summer, workers plod through the rows and rows of trees, swinging razor sharp machetes. They trim each tree to give them that classic, symmetrical, Christmas tree shape. And after about ten years, the trees are ready for harvest. They’re cut, they’re run through a baling machine, and they’re loaded onto trucks and shipped down to the lots.


(sound of customers on lot)


Even though there’s a jovial atmosphere on the lot, there’s also a sense of urgency. After all, Duke only has a few weeks to sell trees that in many cases have taken more than ten years to grow. And while selling the trees is an important part of Duke’s income, he gets something else out of it. He enjoys making connections with the people who wander through his tree lot.


“Sometimes you get grumpy folks coming in, and it’s usually just because they’re overwhelmed with shopping… it’s cold out… they didn’t wear their long underwear or whatever… but we can usually get them turned around, you know, we have a little fun with them… like I say if we have to bring them to the trailer and have a shot of bad Schnapps with ’em, hey, that’s just fine too.”


It’s closing time at the tree lot. The workers are headed for a warmer space. Right now, Duke’s trailer is filled with his extended family and friends…


(sound of door opening)


“Come on in! This is Duke’s family… it’s warm in here, huh?”


Duke will continue to sell his trees right up until Christmas Eve. Then, he’ll drive home to spend a few days with his family before he comes back to tear the lot down.


“It’s kind of like the circus coming to town. You build up your tree lot, you almost build like, well, I wouldn’t say a village, but a little spot where there was nothing, just, you know, an asphalt parking lot. And when we leave, there’s nothing left – we sweep ‘er up and go – so it’s almost like a mirage… were those guys really here?”


(sound of laughter)


And so, they spring to their trucks and drive out of sight, knowing they’ve helped make the season merry night after night.


For the Great Lakes Radio Consortium, I’m Mark Brush.

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Organic Farmers Look for New Recruits

  • A neighbor feeds Sir Herman, a calf at Beaver Creek Ranch. Herman is a Scottish Highland bull. Highland cattle are raised in the Midwest for their lean meat. (MPR Photo/Cynthia Johnson)

Organic food has become so popular, it’s hard to keep up with demand. For organic farmers, that booming market is a mixed blessing. When they can’t supply as much as the customers want, it puts pressure on the farmers. Some farmers are trying creative ways to fill the demand. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Stephanie Hemphill reports:

Transcript

Organic food has become so popular, it’s hard to keep up with demand. For organic farmers, that booming market is a mixed blessing. When they can’t supply as much as the customers want, it puts pressure on the farmers. Some farmers are trying creative ways to fill the demand. The Great Lakes Radio Consortium’s Stephanie Hemphill reports:


About a year ago, chef Kirk Bratrud and his family built a small restaurant near the harbor in Superior, Wisconsin. It’s called The Boathouse, and it features fresh-caught fish, local vegetables, and — Scottish Highland beef.


“It’s a very lean but tender piece of meat, it has a slightly peppery flavor, something approaching elk but more like beef.”


Bratrud says his customers love Scottish Highland beef.


“Our problem with beef however is that we wish more of it was available.”


He has to take it off the menu when he runs out. It’s hard to find, and the only way he can get it at all is because three farmers in the area raise it. One of them is Doug Anderson, owner of Beaver Creek Ranch. He says Highlands offer plenty of advantages to a farmer.


“There is no waste in the animal, as the fat is on the back of the animal rather than a heavy marbling. And our animals are not grained at all. We don’t even have a feedlot. When we’re ready to take an animal to processing, it will just be picked out of the herd, put in a trailer, and go for processing.”


The animals graze in pastures. They don’t need the antibiotics that are routinely fed to animals in feedlots. Anderson has nearly 50 Highlands. The herd is growing, but it takes time to raise cattle. About 20 steers are ready for market each year.


When he started selling to The Boathouse in Superior, he realized there was a bigger market out there than he could supply. He’s recruiting his neighbors to help out. Three nearby farmers have bought brood cows and bulls. Anderson says when their animals are ready to butcher, he’ll put them in touch with The Boathouse and his other markets.


Three miles away, another organic farm has a different specialty – aged cheese made from sheep milk. Mary and David Falk milk about 100 sheep, and make about four dozen cheeses a week. The aging cave is a concrete silo, built into a hillside.


(sound of door opening)


Inside, it’s dark and cool. Nearly a thousand cheeses are resting on cedar planks. Mary Falk enjoys the different molds growing on the rinds of the cheese.


“We’ve got a gold mold, there’s a mauve colored mold, there’s a blue mold, there’s a soft green. So each one of those little molds adds a a hint of flavor and complexity to the cheese.”


The Falks used to sell their Love Tree cheeses to restaurants in New York and San Francisco. But after September 11th, the orders dropped off suddenly, and the Falks found new customers at a local farmer’s market. Now, they don’t have enough cheese to satisfy their local retail customers AND supply restaurants and cheese shops.


To boost her production, Mary Falk tried buying sheep milk from other farmers, but it didn’t taste the same as milk from the flock on her Love Tree Farm. So she tried to recruit farmers to buy some of her sheep and sell her the milk. A couple of neighbors tried it, but quit after awhile.


Her latest idea is what she calls the Love Tree Farm extended label program.


“What Love Tree is known for is our grass-based milk. And if somebody is making a high quality cheese on their farm, we are willing to put that into our market for them. We would put the Lovetree label on their cheese, like “Love Tree introducing Johnny Smith.”


Falk says it would give customers a chance to learn about new cheeses from a name they trust, and it would give new farmers access to an established market.


It takes time and ingenuity to match producers and consumers. But more and more people want organic food. Farmers who’ve been successful are trying to recruit other farmers to join them in the organic producers movement… an effort that can be profitable and easier on the environment.


For the Great Lakes Radio Consortium, I’m Stephanie Hemphill.

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