Delayed Gratification

The problem with making your dreams come true is that you’re sometimes not satisfied. Accomplishing goals is the gateway drug to more dream making.

Historically, Hummingbird Ranch has had many versions. The remnants of its storied past scattered around the property. One owner imagined a huge nursery offering multiple varieties of trees, plants and shrubs, and therefore the main living area of the property features a variety of beautiful tree specimens - palm, aspen, palo verde, eucalyptus, Texas rain, Armenian plum, even our very own immature redwood. And in addition to the native oaks, there are a handful of majestic pepper trees, the most beautiful of which is anchored firmly adjacent to the barn.

Perhaps the most fabled and more recent occupant was the notorious Molochs Motorcycle Club. Read about their “help” during 2020’s BLM protests Biker News and Insane Throttle Biker News

Apparently, a large group of these freedom-loving Americans squatted on the property for a few years; women and children, and meth cooking/dealing business in tow. A neighbor recently recounted the story of the raid that ended their occupation. In an effort to capture the gang’s top man, an ATF/SWAT operation was conducted in the wee hours one foggy morning. All was for naught, however, as said leader was laid up in the hospital recovering from a heart attack. Nonetheless, now being on law enforcement radar, they packed up and moved on in haste, leaving behind many mementos of their stay - makeshift outdoor shower, bullet-ridden cans and metal scraps, abandoned 5th-wheel trailer, and many truckloads of human detritus.

Needless to say, when we acquired Hummingbird Ranch, there was a lot of crap to wade through to bring her back to her natural glory. During those initial visits, we walked the 40 acres, tip to toe, exploring every inch to determine what our priorities were.

The lay of the land was varied - two wooded arroyos that opened into a wide open pasture; a level, barren mesa at the top of the dirt driveway (Building Site #1); and a flat-ish area home to a grouping of decaying manufactured homes, a ramshackle barn, chicken coop, covered storage space, van chassis, and weird grow-room thing. Seemingly, every structure was decaying, being absorbed by its surrounding flora.

Aerial Photo From Zillow

We discussed rehabbing one of the manufactured homes, affectionately coined the meth den, but after traipsing through it on multiple occasions, decided it was wayyyy to murder-y and rodent-y to make it habitable. So we went about hiring someone who would take on the onerous task of demolishing it. When I tell you the multiple tens of thousands of dollars these people were bidding for demo…I’m convinced the head of every one of these companies has a secret offshore account and/or spends the season in Gstaad. Lucky for us, our wonderful, salt of the earth neighbor, Neal - the alleged first resident of our dirt road - said he would do it for a fraction of the price. We joke that Neal has become the Mr. Haney (without the treachery and unscrupulousness) to our Lisa and Oliver Wendell Douglas, popping up with either the perfect service or recommendation we didn’t even know we needed, until we did. Art Imitating Life

Back to Nature

Lofty visions of building my fantasy ranch were definitely tempered as we continued to allocate funds to deal with the more mundane tasks essential for health and safety. Chad’s influence during this time was the critical backstop of practicality my flights of fancy needed. He shared in my passion, but kept us rooted in reality.

There’s an old Armenian saying, Մէկ ծաղիկով գարուն չի գայ - Spring will not come with one flower. This is my mantra. The message I use to remind myself to be patient. That all good things happen in good time.