When the Almond Tree Blooms

Towards the end of last week, strong gusts of wind began to pummel the Sacramento Valle, clearing out the dense fog and the most of the leaves clinging to the trees on the farm.  The mulberries, willows, black walnuts, figs and the majestic valley oaks that dot the landscape of rice country are transforming into their skeletal winter forms.  The wind blew the thin white chaff off the corn being moved around the mill and it drifted like snow throughout the farm.  Like flakes that never melt it even settled on the dusty break table inside the machine shop.  I spent most of the past few days in the unheated shop, where I counted weeds in the rice samples I took from each field before harvest.  The work revealed striking differences in the weed populations of the fields, but grew tedious and made me realize that I wouldn't want to do this all the time, say, as a PhD student in an agriculture-related discipline.  Luckily, as the light faded over the Great Valle...