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Hārvarda iegādājas tiesības uz ūdeni Kalifornijas dienvidu vīna valstī

Hārvarda iegādājas tiesības uz ūdeni Kalifornijas dienvidu vīna valstī



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Hārvarda ir kļuvusi par vienu no lielākajām vīnogu audzētājām reģionā

Wikimedia Commons

Vai Hārvardas ieguldījumi vīnā radīs papildu problēmas reģionā, kuru skāris ūdens trūkums?

Vai zinājāt, ka Hārvardas universitāte tagad ir viena no lielākajām vīnogu audzētājām Dienvidkalifornijas vīna valstī? Mēs arī ne. Bet saskaņā ar Reuters, Hārvardas universitātes fonds ir piešķīris 60 miljonus ASV dolāru, lai iegādātos aptuveni 10 000 hektāru zemes Paso Robles vīna reģionā kopš 2012. gada, padarot to par vienu no 20 labākajiem investoriem reģionā. Brodiaea, Inc., kas pilnībā pieder Hārvardas pārvaldības fondam, arī ir nodrošinājusi ūdens urbumu urbšanas atļauju iegādi, tikai dažas dienas pirms likuma stāšanās spēkā, kas aizliegtu jaunu sūknēšanu Kalifornijas smagā sausuma dēļ ir piedzīvojusi pēdējā gada laikā.

"Joprojām ir jānoskaidro, kāda ir viņu saistība ar lauksaimniecības biznesu," aģentūrai Reuters sacīja Sjūzena Hārvija no vides aizstāvības grupas North County Watch. "Vai Hārvarda turpinās sūknēt gruntsūdeņus vai samazināt peļņu, lai aizsargātu ūdens kvalitāti un daudzumu ? "

Kopš Brodiaea, Inc. sāka pirkt zemi vīna valstī, uzņēmums ir ieguvis tiesības urbt 16 ūdens akas, kuru dziļums ir no 700 līdz 900 pēdām, divas vai trīs reizes dziļākas par vidējo dzīvojamo urbumu. Tas varētu būt potenciāli bīstams iedzīvotājiem, jo ​​saskaņā ar North County Watch datiem milzīgais ūdens daudzums var ietekmēt dzīvojamās akas līdz pat jūdzei.

Daily Meal gaida komentārus no Hārvardas universitātes, bet Hārvardas pārvaldības kompānija atteicās komentēt Reuters.


NASA un Hārvardas eksperti atklāj, ka klimata pārmaiņas ir būtiski mainījušas Francijas vīna ražu

Izpētījuši vairāk nekā 400 gadu ražas un klimata datus no Francijas un Šveices, Hārvarda universitātes un NASA pētnieki secinājuši, ka pēdējās desmitgadēs siltāka temperatūra šajās valstīs ir novedusi pie vīna vīnogu ražas vairāk nekā 10 dienas agrāk nekā laika posmā no plkst. 1600–1980 - neatkarīgi no tā, vai augšanas sezonas radīja mitrus apstākļus vai sausumu.

"Tas ir pierādījums tam, ka mēs esam būtiski mainījuši klimata sistēmu," sacīja pētījuma līdzautore Elizabete Volkoviča, Hārvardas organisma un evolūcijas bioloģijas docente. "Agrāk šī raža notika sausos, karstos gados."

Sausās augsnēs iztvaiko mazāk mitruma, lai atdzesētu virsmu, un sausums faktiski palielina siltumu, lai paātrinātu nogatavošanos vīna dārzā. Bet vidējā temperatūra Francijā 20. gadsimtā palielinājās par aptuveni 2,7 ° F. "Tas, ko mēs redzam astoņdesmitajos gados, ir tāds, ka jums vairs nav vajadzīga sausa vasara," sacīja Volkovičs.

Šim ieskatam ir svarīgas sekas - labas un sliktas - nākotnes vīna kvalitātei. Analizējot Bordo un Burgundijas vintage vērtējumus no 1900. līdz 2001. gadam, pētnieki atklāja, ka augstākas kvalitātes vīni parasti ir saistīti ar agrīno ražu vēsākajos Eiropas reģionos. Labākie vīni tika iegūti gados, kad augšanas sezonas sākumā nokrišņu daudzums bija virs vidējā, silta vasara un vēls sezonas sausums vai sausi apstākļi, kas izraisīja karstuma pieaugumu un novietoja vīnogulāju augšanas uzmanību no lapu ražošanas uz vīnogu nogatavināšanu.

"Vīna kvalitāte ir atkarīga arī no faktoriem, kas nav saistīti ar klimatu, tostarp no vīnogu šķirnēm, augsnes, vīna dārzu apsaimniekošanas un vīndaru prakses," sacīja vadošais autors Bendžamins Kuks, klimata zinātnieks NASA Godarda Kosmosa pētniecības institūtā un Kolumbijas Universitātes Lamont-Doherty Zemes observatorijā. paziņojumu par konstatējumiem. "Tomēr mūsu pētījumi liecina, ka liela mēroga klimata faktori, saskaņā ar kuriem šie vietējie faktori darbojas, ir mainījušies. Un šī informācija var izrādīties kritiska vīna ražotājiem, jo ​​klimata pārmaiņas Francijā, Šveicē un citos vīnkopības reģionos pastiprināsies nākamajās desmitgadēs."

Drīz var nākt pavērsiena punkts, brīdināja Volkovičs: "Klimata pārmaiņas ir iemesls, kāpēc pēdējo 20 līdz 30 gadu laikā mums ir bijuši tik daudz lielisku Bordo vīnogu ražu. Tas ir arī iemesls, kāpēc nākamajos 50 gados jūs, iespējams, nesaņemsit labu Bordo. Uz priekšu: Mēs esam pieredzējuši tikai nelielu daļu no sasilšanas, ko esam radījuši un redzēsim nākamajos 50 līdz 80 gados, un tam būs radikālas sekas vīna reģionos. "

Kā piemēru viņa norādīja uz 2003. gada ražu, kad visā Eiropā rekordliels nāvējošs karstuma vilnis noveda pie agrāko ražu viņu pētījumā, bet jauktas kvalitātes, radot dažus izcilus vīnus un dažus, kas bija nelīdzsvaroti.

Pētījums, kas publicēts žurnālā 21. martā Dabas klimata pārmaiņas, analizēja ierakstus astoņos reģionos-Elzasā, Bordo, Burgundijā, Šampanē, Langedokā, Luāras ielejā, Ronas dienvidu ielejā un Šveices Lemānas ezerā-no 1600. līdz 2007. gadam, lai iegūtu kopainu, kas aptver dažādus klimatiskos apstākļus , nogāzes un vīnogu šķirnes ar dažādiem ziedēšanas periodiem un nogatavināšanas ātrumu.

Pateicoties reliģisko ordeņu apkopotajiem ziņojumiem un citu pētnieku apkopotajām datu bāzēm, "mums bija šie neticami ilgtermiņa ražas rekordi," sacīja Volkovičs. "Tā bija reta iespēja redzēt, kā kaut kas darbojas pirms un pēc klimata pārmaiņām."

Tā kā vīnogu kvalitāte un vīna raksturs ir tik cieši saistīti ar klimatu un laika apstākļiem, vīnu klimata pārmaiņu modelēšanā bieži izmanto kā uzmanību piesaistošu lauksaimniecības kanāriju ogļu raktuvēs. Pēdējās desmitgades laikā vairāki klimata pētījumi ir paredzējuši krasas izmaiņas siltāku vīnogu audzēšanas reģionu dzīvotspējā, jo ziemeļu reģioni, piemēram, Anglija, paplašinās, savukārt senie apzīmējumi uzskata, ka slavenās vietas kļūst mazāk piemērotas vai ir spiestas mainīt vīnogu šķirnes un vīna stilu. Bet liela daļa pētījumu ir vērsti uz neseniem laika grafikiem vai nākotnes prognozēm.

Lai gan šis nav pirmais ziņojums par Eiropas ražas novākšanas datumu maiņu ilgākā laika posmā, Kuks un Volkoviča darbs ir unikāls, kā viņi aplūkoja, vai ražas novākšanas datumus ietekmējošais klimats ir mainījies, salīdzinot dažādus vēsturiskos periodus, un 1980. gads dramatisks pavērsiens. Viņi pārbaudīja gadsimtiem ilgus temperatūras, nokrišņu un augsnes mitruma ierakstus (sausuma rādītājs)-no datiem, kas savākti ar 20. gadsimta instrumentiem, kā arī no vēsturiskiem dokumentiem un koku gredzenu analīzes.

"Temperatūra ir līdzīgi spēcīgs [ražas novākšanas faktors] pirms un pēc [1980]," sacīja Volkovičs. "Bet kādas izmaiņas ir sausums un nokrišņi - tie kļūst daudz mazāk saistīti ar ražu pēc 1980. gada." Viņa sacīja, ka komanda aplūkoja citus 30 gadu periodus, piemēram, ap 19. gadsimta filoksēras uzliesmojumu Francijā, kad tika aizstāti potcenti un vīnogu šķirnes, lai noskaidrotu, vai klimats ir atvienots no ražas jebkurā citā laikā. "Un atbilde ir nē."

Iepriekšējie pētījumi atklāja, ka katrs vidējās temperatūras pieaugums par 1 ° C (1,8 ° F) palielina vīnogu ražu par aptuveni sešām dienām. Tātad, kad varētu pienākt izšķirošais pagrieziena punkts?

Tas būs atkarīgs no individuālā vīna dārza-stādītās vīnogu šķirnes, augsnes veida, slīpuma, augstuma un orientācijas un citiem faktoriem-tas nav iespējams pētījuma plašā analīzē. (Piemēram, karstās, akmeņainās augsnēs, lai apgāztu svarus, būs nepieciešams mazāk sasilšanas.) Kopā ar pārstādīšanu uz karstumizturīgākām vīnogu šķirnēm vīndari var reaģēt uz klimata pārmaiņām tā, kā viņi pārvalda savus vīna dārzus-no atzarošanas līdz lapotnei. apsaimniekošanu, lai segtu kultūras līdz ūdens apsaimniekošanai.

"Sudraba odere, vismaz man, ir tāda, ka vīna vīnogu klimata daudzveidība kopumā ir ļoti augsta," sacīja Volkovičs. "Tas ir jautājums par to, cik labi tirgus un audzētājs ir gatavi izmantot šo daudzveidību."

Bet viņa pievienoja brīdinājuma piezīmi: "Es ceru, ka cilvēki atņems to, ka vīna kvalitāte būs viena no viņu zemākajām problēmām, ja mēs nemainīsim klimata pārmaiņas."


Grauzdēšana ar papīra vēlmēm glāzē

Ir daudzas māņticības, kuras cilvēki ievēro, lai īstenotu savas vēlmes, piemēram, klusi vēloties katru reizi, kad pulkstenis griežas 11:11 (atzīstiet, ka esat to izdarījis). Jaunā gada mijā vēlēšanās ir īpaši daudz, un tā ir Spānija un Meksika piemēram, pēdējās atskaites laikā līdz pusnaktij viņi var apēst 12 vīnogas, kas pārstāv 12 vēlmes.

Bet, iekšā Ukraina un Krievija viņi burtiski izskalo savas vēlmes ar Jaungada šampanieša grauzdiņiem. Jaungada vakarā ir zināms, ka viņi uz papīra uzraksta savas vēlmes nākamajam gadam. Pusnakts triecienā viņi sadedzinās papīru, iemetīs pelnus burbuļojošā glāzē un lielā mērā izdzers savas cerības un sapņus, kas it kā piepildīsies nākamajās 365 dienās.


Degot ugunij, aktīvisti ielīst Point Reyes, lai nogādātu ūdeni izžuvušiem aļņiem. Vai viņiem vajadzētu?

Iestājoties tumsai un svētdien virs Point Reyes pussalas ieplūda bieza Klusā okeāna migla, neliela dzīvnieku aktīvistu grupa gaidīja, kad Nacionālā parka dienesta amatpersona pametīs savu kontrolpunktu gar Pīrsa Pointeu.

Viņš bija tur, lai neļautu cilvēkiem ieiet dziļi Nacionālajā jūrmalā, kur degoši meži, un parka apkalpojošo darbinieku skeleta apkalpe citādi tiecas uz 3000 hektāru lielu ugunsgrēku, kas deg parka dienvidu galā.

18:00, kad viņa maiņa beidzās un viņš aizbrauca, ielidoja mazā kausa brigāde. Viņi parka nākotnes aļņiem nogādāja aptuveni 150 galonu ūdens, kuri, viņaprāt, mirst no dehidratācijas un nevar sasniegt citiem ūdens avotiem, jo ​​ap to rezervātu ir žogs, jo reģionā pasliktinās sausuma apstākļi.

"Ja parka dienests atsakās rūpēties par dzīvniekiem, kurus viņiem saskaņā ar likumu ir noteikts saglabāt, tad citiem ir jāiejaucas," sacīja Fleurs Douss, San Rafaelā bāzētās organizācijas "In Defense of Animals" komunikācijas direktors.

Līdz šai nedēļai Dawes organizācija un citi vietējie aktīvisti bija galvenie, kas koncentrējās uz šī gada aļņu ganāmpulka nožēlojamo stāvokli. Bet pirmdien grupa, kurai ir bijuši agresīvi strīdi vides jomā, Bioloģiskās daudzveidības centrs, mudināja parka dienestu nodrošināt aļņiem ūdeni un noņemt 8 pēdas augstu stiepļu žogu, kas iet pāri pussalā, novēršot brīvu aļņa kustība.

"Atšķirībā no privātajiem liellopiem, kuriem šajā teritorijā ir neierobežota piekļuve ūdens avotiem, aļņus aizsargā federālais likums, kas nosaka, ka Parka dienestam ir jāsaglabā tie sabiedrībai un nākamajām paaudzēm," sacīja Hārvardas Juridiskās skolas direktore Ketrīna Meijere. Dzīvnieku tiesību un politikas politikas klīnika, teikts organizācijas paziņojumā. "Viņiem nevajadzētu liegt piekļuvi ūdenim, kas vajadzīgs izdzīvošanai."

Aļņu rezervāta un blakus esošo piena fermu pretrunīgās vajadzības jau sen ir uzliesmojuma punkts Point Reyes, vienā no Kalifornijas mīļākajām jūras krastiem. Jaunākā konfrontācija notiek laikā, kad parka dienests apsver galīgo lēmumu par aļņu apsaimniekošanas plānu - plānu, kurā 24 dzīvnieku piena un liellopu gaļas uzņēmēji, kas nomā zemi nacionālajā parkā, ir nostājušies pret dzīvnieku un vides aktīvistiem. , kuri saka, ka viņu darbība tur nepieder.

Ir zināms, ka Tule aļņi ir salīdzinoši izturīgi pret sausuma apstākļiem, un tas ir viens no iemesliem, kāpēc nacionālo parku biologi un citi šogad nevēlas iejaukties.

“Kamēr krājumus, kas palikuši no iepriekšējām lopkopības dienām, bieži apmeklē aļņi. šie dīķi faktiski izžūst lielākajā daļā gadu, ”paziņojumā norādīja Point Reyes National Seashore superintendenta pienākumu izpildītāja Kerija Fīrabenda, norādot, ka„ šajā apgabalā ir vairāki noplūdes un avoti, kurus bieži apmeklē aļņi ”.

Tomales Point ganāmpulks sastāv no 450 aļņiem, kas iežogoti 2000 akru liegumā, kas atrodas pussalas ziemeļu galā un piedāvā plašu skatu uz Kluso okeānu, Bodegas līci un Tomales līci.

Iepriekšējā sausuma laikā, kas beidzās 2014. gadā, ganāmpulks zaudēja apmēram pusi no saviem iedzīvotājiem, sacīja Nacionālā parka dienesta savvaļas dzīvnieku ekologs Deivs Prese, kurš dzīvo šajā teritorijā un uzrauga aļņu baru.

Kopš 23. augusta Dovsa sacīja, ka viņas grupas izlūki parkā novērojuši vismaz pusduci beigtu aļņu.

Prese sacīja, ka saprot aktīvistu bažas, un katru nedēļu pārbauda ganāmpulku. Viņš teica, ka, lai gan viņš novēroja, ka aļņiem ir pietiekami daudz ūdens, Nacionālā parka dienests plāno vajadzības gadījumā ievietot siles, kas piepildītas ar ūdens kravas automašīnām.

Viņš bija nobijies, dzirdot, ka aktīvisti ir ienākuši ūdeni un bez atļaujas iekļuvuši slēgtajā parkā.

"Tas ir pilnīgs pārkāpums, strādājot nacionālo parku jomā," viņš teica. “Šī ir publiska zeme, un mums būtu jāizsniedz atļauja kaut kam tamlīdzīgam. Runājot tikai hipotētiski, kā būtu, ja viņi uzliktu šo silei kādu no mūsu apdraudētajām augu sugām? Kā viņi to varēja zināt? ”

Viens no dīķiem, no kura alnis regulāri dzer, tika novērots sauss pagājušās piektdienas pēcpusdienā. Naga nospiedumi sasita tagad dubļaino dīķa virsmu. Neliels aļņu ganāmpulks un vientuļš briedis atpūtās uz sausā, zālainā kalna virs.

Taču situāciju sarežģī tuvumā esošais Vudvardas ugunsgrēks, kas notika 18. augustā, zibens spēriena rezultātā. Lai gan tas joprojām ir aptuveni deviņas jūdzes tālu no aļņu klejošanas vietas Tomalesā, tas ir tuvāk vienam no brīvās turēšanas ganāmpulkiem. ir izraisījis smagus dūmus, kā arī evakuācijas rīkojumus un brīdinājumus.

Vairāk nekā 400 ugunsdzēsēju, daudzi no parka dienesta, cīnās ar šo liesmu, cenšoties novietot apvidū ierobežojošas līnijas, kurās dažās vietās nav reģistrēta degšanas vēsture, un tā rada lielu degvielas patēriņu. Citas vietas ir stāvas un mežonīgas, kas apgrūtina piekļuvi.

Pēdējo dienu laikā ir bijis grūti atšķirt dūmus no miglas, jo abi dušo teritoriju, padarot ūdens pilienus gaisā gandrīz neiespējamus.

Pirms Point Reyes National Seashore oficiālās dibināšanas 1972. gadā zeme bija privātīpašums rančo ģimenēm. Gandrīz desmit gadus pēc tam, kad Kongress 1960. gados piešķīra parkam atļauju, valdība strādāja, lai iegādātos šīs zemes gabalus ar vienošanos, lai ļautu lopkopjiem turpināt darbu gadu desmitiem, dažreiz pat līdz 30 gadiem.

Daudzas no šīm saimniecībām, kuras dibināja īru, šveiciešu un portugāļu imigranti, bija daļa no piena nozares, kas izveidojās, jo zelta drudzis palielināja piena pieprasījumu netālu esošajā Sanfrancisko, sacīja autors Dewey Livingston, kurš ir rakstījis par apkārtnes lauksaimniecību un ir bijušais parka vēsturnieks.

Lai gan šajā apgabalā jau sen klīda aļņu ganāmpulki, tie tika iznīcināti, jo medības samazināja to skaitu un pārņēma ganību lopu ganāmpulki.

1978. gadā dabas aizsardzības speciālisti pārvietoja dažus no štatā esošajiem nākotnes aļņiem atpakaļ uz parka ziemeļu galu Tomales Point, cenšoties glābt viņus no izzušanas. Viņi bija veiksmīgi, un “aļņu populācija pieauga, auga un auga”, sacīja Livingstons.


Pasaules lielākais helikopteris uz ugunsgrēkiem var nomest 3000 galonu ūdens

Rekorda uzstādīšanas ugunsgrēka sezona prasa rekordu noteikšanas reakciju.

Šonedēļ Orange apgabala ugunsdzēsības amatpersonas atklāja “ļoti lielo helikopteru”-3000 galonu ietilpību CH-47 Chinook-, kas tagad ir pieejams, lai palīdzētu ugunsdzēsēju komandām cīnīties ar daudzajiem Dienvidkalifornijas ugunsgrēkiem.

Uzskatot par lielāko helikopteru ūdens tankkuģi pasaulē, tā ietilpība krietni pārsniedz apgabala standarta helikopteru jaudu, kas parasti nokrīt aptuveni 350 galonu, sacīja amatpersonas.

"Mūsuprāt, šī ir nākamā helikopteru paaudze," trešdien tiešraidē preses konferencē sacīja Orindžas apgabala ugunsdzēsības pārvaldes priekšnieks Braiens Fennessijs. “Tas ir vismodernākais. Pasaulē nav neviena tāda tankkuģa kā tas. ”

Tankkuģis atradīsies ārpus Los Alamitos Apvienoto spēku mācību bāzes Orange County un būs pieejams reģioniem, kurus apkalpo Dienvidkalifornijas Edisons, kas nodrošināja 2,1 miljonu ASV dolāru nomai no īpašnieka Coulson Aviation. Apkalpojamie reģioni ietver Losandželosas apgabalu - kur Bobcat ugunsgrēks ir skāris vairāk nekā 114 000 akrus - un Sanbernardīno apgabalu, kur El Dorado ugunsgrēks prasīja ugunsdzēsēja Čārlza Mortona dzīvību.

Nacionālais meteoroloģiskais dienests izdeva sarkanā karoga brīdinājumus Sanfrancisko līča apgabala pakalniem un ezera, Mendocino un Monterey apgabalu daļām, kur ugunsgrēki jau deg.

Rekordliels tankkuģis ierodas, jo strauja temperatūras un ārkārtēju ugunsgrēku apstākļu draudēšana apdraud lielu daļu reģiona.

"Šis ir svarīgs brīdis patiešām neticamā ugunsgrēka gadā," preses konferencē sacīja Dienvidkalifornijas Edisona prezidents un izpilddirektors Kevins Peins. "Tas nodrošina papildu ugunsdzēsības resursus ugunsdzēsības aģentūrām visā Kalifornijas dienvidos tieši tad, kad mums tie ir nepieciešami."

Helitankerā strādās piloti no Coulson Aviation un OCFA apkalpes priekšnieks. Aģentūras, kas pieprasa tankkuģi, maksās par tā lidojuma laiku un izmantošanu, sacīja amatpersonas.

Veins Kulsons, uzņēmuma Coulson Aviation prezidents un izpilddirektors, žurnālistiem sacīja, ka divu dzenskrūvju un divu dzinēju tankkuģis ir veidots, ņemot vērā helikopteru un transporta lidmašīnu funkcionalitāti.

"Tam ir divas lomas," viņš teica. "Tas var notikt tiešā uzbrukumā ugunsgrēka virsotnē, vai, ja mēs to uzlādējam ar slāpētāju, mēs varam nomest slāpētāju pirms uguns kā gaisa tankkuģis."

Helitanker ir arī sertificēts nakts redzamībai, un tas var pilināt ūdeni vai kavēt gan dienu, gan nakti.

Trešdien apkalpes nodemonstrēja helikoptera spēku, nolaižot 250 galonus ūdens - apmēram trīs ceturtdaļas no tipiskas slodzes - no standarta Bell 412 lietderības helikoptera virs Los Alamitos.

Pēc brīža helikopteris pacēlās virs galvas un nometa 2600 galonu ūdens, atvieglojot lietusgāzi.

"Šis helikopteris ir spēka pavairotājs," sacīja Orange County ugunsdzēsības iestādes priekšnieks Fennessy. "Tas burtiski ir lielākais tanku helikopters pasaulē."

Vecāku briesmas pandēmijas laikā

Kas notiek ar skolu? Kas bērniem vajadzīgs? Saņemiet 8 līdz 3 biļetenu, kas veltīts jautājumiem, kas Kalifornijas ģimenes naktī uzmundrina.

Laiku pa laikam jūs varat saņemt reklāmas saturu no Los Angeles Times.

Heilija Smita atspoguļo populārās un jaunākās ziņas laikrakstam Los Angeles Times. Iepriekš viņa sadarbojās ar The Times COVID-19 projektu “The Pandemic’s Toll: Lives Lost in California” sadarbībā ar Pulicera centru un USC. Viņai ir maģistra grāds žurnālistikā USC.


Uguns, dūmi, karstums, sausums - kā klimata pārmaiņas varētu sabojāt nākamo glāzi Kalifornijas Cabernet

Pirms pāris gadiem mēs ar sievu apmeklējām Bonny Doon vīna dārzu netālu no Santakrusas, lai izlasītu vīna darīšanas meistara Rendana Grema piedāvājumu. Kamēr mēs bijām tur, Grems mums pastāstīja kaut ko tādu, ko es nevarēju aizmirst. Viņš teica, ka gar Monterejas līci nebija gandrīz tik miglains kā agrāk, un tas bija satraucoši vīndariem.

Ar katru kopš tā laika Kalifornijas nelabvēlīgo laika apstākļu devu es atklāju sev jautājumu, kā klājas Kalifornijas vīna darītavām un vai cēlās vīnogas kļūst par pārgatavotas planētas marķieri - līdz ar jūras līmeņa celšanos un nāvējošiem kūlas ugunsgrēkiem. Pirms dažām nedēļām es piezvanīju Greham, lai turpinātu sarunu.

16:06, 2020. gada 5. septembrī Iepriekšējā šī stāsta versijā 1976. gada Parīzes degustācijā vīna darītava tika identificēta ar uzvarošo sarkanvīnu. Tas bija Stag’s Leap vīna pagrabi, nevis Stags’s Leap Winery.

"Apmēram pirms 25 gadiem es sāku redzēt ievērojami mazāk miglas, un pēdējos 20 gados arvien mazāk," sacīja Grems, un tas sāk ietekmēt Kalifornijas vīnu.

Pieaugot saulei un karstumam, vīnogu nogatavināšanas process ir paātrināts, viņš teica, un, lai gan joprojām ir iespējams pagatavot labu vīnu, ir grūtāk iegūt pareizo skābes un cukura attiecību, pH līdzsvaru, krāsu un garšu. Viņa nopirktās vīnogas “agrāk nogatavojās, iespējams, novembra pirmajā nedēļā, un tagad tas ir labs trīs līdz četras nedēļas agrāk. Un tas nav triviāli. ”

Smalkas atšķirības smaržās un sarežģītībā, par kurām runā Grams, ir ārpus manām aukslēju pakāpēm, taču es saprotu, ka vīndari pielāgojas, jo viņiem tas ir jādara. Viņiem klimata pārmaiņas nav abstraktas, tālas rūpes. Šobrīd tas ienāk viņu vīna dārzos.

Un tas ir liels darījums. Amerikas Savienotās Valstis ir ceturtais lielākais vīna ražotājs pasaulē aiz Itālijas, Francijas un Spānijas, un Kalifornija ražo 80% valsts vino. Mazumtirdzniecības apjoms sasniedz 40 miljardus ASV dolāru, un nozare nodarbina vairāk nekā 30 000 kaliforniešu tieši vīnogu audzēšanā un vīna ražošanā, kā arī daudzus citus saistītos darbos. Šeit, tāpat kā citos pasaules vīna audzēšanas reģionos, kurus ietekmē klimata pārmaiņas, turpmākajos gados ražošanas apjoms noteikti nebūs mazāks. Bet audzētāji maina šķirnes, ķeras pie tehnikām un pāriet uz augstākiem augstumiem.

Pēc daudz laika sarunājoties ar vīndariem un klimata ekspertiem, augusta otrajā nedēļā devos uz šoseju, lai redzētu, kas notiek vīna dārzos. Es uzvarēju ugunsgrēkus un tūkstošiem zibens spērienu par nedēļu, bet, pat ja nenoslīdētu velns, tas, ko es atklāju, bija satraucošs, lai gan es redzēju arī iedrošinošus jauninājumus.

Kad esmu uzaudzis līča apgabalā, netālu no vīna valsts, es atceros karstas un vējainas vasaras dienas kā uzticamu normu, bet noteikti ne ar tādu zibens vētru, kādu tagad redz Ziemeļkalifornija. Vasaras ekskursijās uz Sanfrancisko no Kontras Kostas apgabala, kad es biju bērns, mēs atvedām jakas, jo vasarā pilsēta vienmēr bija forša. Šā gada 10. jūnijā Sanfrancisko lidostas termometra stabiņš sasniedza 100, kas ir augstākā reģistrētā temperatūra jūnijā, jūlijā un augustā.

Bija pagājis kāds laiks, kopš es ceļoju pa Napas ielejas vīna taku, un es biju aizmirsis, cik tā ir skaista. Jūdžu amerikāņu kalniņu nogāzes ir tamborētas ar Kalifornijas vīnogu karaļa vīnogulājiem-cabernet sauvignon, ko bieži dēvē tikai par cabernet vai cab. Un izrādās, ka tā ir viena no vīnogām, kas var būt visvairāk apdraudēta. Tas neiztur ārkārtēju karstumu, kā arī daudzas mazāk pazīstamas šķirnes.

Lai saprastu tā nozīmi, jums jāatgriežas 1976. gadā, kad pudele ar Napas ielejas Cabernet Sauvignon neapšaubāmi ierindoja Kaliforniju starptautiskajā vīna kartē. Neveiksmīgais Kalifornijas Cabernets tika nostādīts pret labāko Francijas Bordo, aklā degustācijā, kas kļuva pazīstama kā Parīzes spriedums, un Kalifornijas vīnu no Stag’s Leap vīna pagrabiem.

Līdz šai dienai Napas Cabernet ir pieprasīts visā pasaulē. Amerikas Savienotajās Valstīs tas ir visvairāk pārdotais sarkanvīns, un labākās pudeles nosaka stratosfēras cenas. Apgalvot, ka Napas ielejas nākotne varētu būt dažādas, lētākas un, iespējams, mazāk tirgojamas vīnogas, ir gandrīz ķecerība. Gadu desmitiem tūristi ir pulcējušies ielejas degustācijas telpās, lai nopirktu pudeles, kas tiek pārdotas par simtiem un pat tūkstošiem dolāru.

Bet cik ilgi tas var turpināties?

Neviens to precīzi nezina, bet jau 2011. gadā Stenfordas universitātes pētījumā tika prognozēts, ka Ziemeļkalifornijas zemes platība, kas piemērota augstākās klases vīnogu audzēšanai, var samazināties uz pusi jau 2040. gadā paaugstināta karstuma dēļ.

Tā ir slikta ziņa cabernet vīnogām. Pārāk daudz siltuma var nozīmēt, ka oga attīsta cukuru, pirms tā ir pilnībā attīstījusies, izslēdzot līdzsvaru un krāsojot.

Vīna darītājs Dens Petroskis klanīja glāzi, lai atskanētu trauksme. Petroskis, kurš strādāja žurnālu biznesā un pirmo reizi interesējās par vīnu augstākās klases Ņujorkas pusdienās ar klientiem, ir pielīdzinājis saules pieaugošo uzbrukumu Napas ielejas trofejas vīnogām ar lēnu vardes vārīšanos.

"Klimata pārmaiņas, kas tiek prognozētas gan visā pasaulē, gan Napas ielejā, nozīmē, ka pēc 10, 20 vai 30 gadiem ... Napa būs cits lauksaimniecības reģions," nesen tirdzniecības izdevumam rakstīja Petroskis. "Šim brīdim mums ir jāsagatavojas."

Petroski mīl Cabernet un ir viens no labākajiem Napas ielejā Larkmead Vineyards, augstas klases ražotājs, kas dibināts 1890. gados. Viņš teica, ka 10 gadus vīndari ir darījuši tādas lietas kā vīnogulāju ēnošana un miglošana, bet viņš redz dienu, kad “nav sudraba lodes, kas mazinātu klimata pārmaiņas”.

Un Petroskis ne tikai runā un raksta par problēmu. Larkmeadā viņš mani aizveda uz trīs hektāru lielu pētniecības bloku, kuru viņš ir iestādījis ar vīnogām, par kurām jūs, iespējams, nekad neesat dzirdējuši-vīnogām, kuras, viņaprāt, ir lielākas izredzes izturēt pret klimata pārmaiņām nekā cabernet.

Šeit, ko ieskauj trenažieru kabeņu vīnogulāju rindas, viņam ir jauni aglianico, charbono, tempranillo, shiraz un touriga nacional stiebri. Šie izturīgie sarkanie, iespējams, nav tik pazīstami kā Cabernet, un tiem nav nekādas kabatas, bet tie var izturēt siltumu.

"Mēs redzēsim, kas vislabāk darbojas," sacīja Petroskis, kurš nav pilnībā pieķēries sarkanvīnam. Saskaņā ar savu etiķeti Massican viņš gatavo itāļu iedvesmotu baltvīnu no vīnogām, tostarp greko, pinot bianco, friulano un ribolla gialla, kas, viņaprāt, diezgan labi pārvalda klimata pārmaiņas.

“Varbūt cabernet, pinot noir, chardonnay un citas vīnogu šķirnes, kas uzcēla Napu un Sonomu. pēdējos 30 gados tas nebūs piemērots nākamajos 30 gados, ”sacīja Petroskis. "Mums ir jāpielāgojas tam, kas notiek pasaulē. Tā nav vīna nozares problēma. Tā ir lauksaimniecības problēma. Tā ir globāla problēma. Tā ir cilvēces problēma. ”

Ne visi domā, ka Kalifornijas lielās naudas vīnogas-cabernet sauvignon, pinot noir un chardonnay-nokalst, un dažas no šīm vīnogām joprojām plaukst vēsākā mikroklimatā visā Kalifornijā. Vismaz pagaidām. Tieši uz rietumiem no Buelltonas Ketija Džozefa no Fiddlehead Cellars man teica, ka migla joprojām iesūknē ieleju un rada perfektu audzēšanas vidi viņas pinot noir vīnogām. Džims Klendenens no Au Bon Climat teica, ka viņam ir tāda pati zelta klimats jūras klimatam ielejās netālu no Santa Marijas, kur aug viņa chardonnay vīnogas.

Karstākā klimatā, piemēram, Napas ielejā, Džons Priests no Etude Wines izmanto datoru modeļus un mākslīgo intelektu, lai uzlabotu audzēšanas un apūdeņošanas paņēmienus, un vīnogulājus var apgriezt tā, lai virs vīnogām radītu nojumes.

"Mūsu rīcībā ASV ir tehnoloģijas un zināšanas, un mēs atradīsim veidu, kā padarīt Cabernet izturīgu," sacīja Kaans Kurturals, UC Davis vīnkopības kooperatīva paplašināšanas speciālists.

Kalifornijas vīna ražotāji pielāgojas arvien karstākam klimatam, izmantojot uzlabotas lauksaimniecības metodes un audzējot vīnogu šķirnes, kurām nepieciešams mazāk ūdens.

Vai varbūt ir pienācis laiks Kalifornijas vīna dzērājiem sazaroties.

"Ir kaut kur ap 5000 vīnogu, no kurām mēs varam audzēt un gatavot vīnu," sacīja Gregs Džounss, klimatologs un vīna pētījumu direktors Linfīldas universitātē Oregonā, un Stenfordas pētījuma līdzstrādnieks, kas paredzēja samazināt platību dažām šķirnēm Kalifornijā.

Ja štats nekad nebūtu audzējis vīnogas un šodien sāktu no nulles, saka UC Davis lauksaimniecības ūdenssaimniecības speciāliste Daniele Zaccaria, visgudrākā iespēja varētu būt stādīt Dienvideiropas vīnogas, nevis Bordo kabīni. Patiesībā šādas vīnogas Kalifornijā pirms gadsimta stādīja Eiropas imigranti, taču pēc Napas ielejas trofejas vīnogu panākumiem tās tika aizmirstas.

Es jautāju Zaccaria, kādu vīnu, pēc viņa domām, viņš sasniegs pēc 30 gadiem, gatavojot jauku maltīti un savienojot to ar būtisku Kalifornijas vīnu.

"Iespējams, Primitivo, Tempranillo, Negroamaro, Nero d’Avola," viņš teica, nosaucot Dienvideiropai, tostarp Sicīlijai, raksturīgus vīnus. "Kaut kas no apgabaliem, kas ir ļoti līdzīgi klimatam."

Mūsdienās tos neatradīsiet daudzos pārtikas veikalos, taču tie jau gadiem ilgi atrodas specializēto veikalu plauktos. Pircējiem, kuri interesējas par filiālēm, Kīts Mabrijs no K & ampL vīna tirgotājiem Holivudā saka, ka vēlas norādīt, ka Primitivo ir itāļu Zinfandel brālēns. Izmantojot Tempranillo, viņš jautās, vai klients ir pazīstams ar Spānijas Riojas reģiona vīniem, un, ja nē, viņš varētu teikt, ka tas ir vidēji mīksts, sarkans, līdzīgs Chianti.

Kalifornijas vīnogām un citām kultūrām klimata pārmaiņu problēma nav saistīta tikai ar pārāk lielu siltumu, bet arī par pārāk mazu ūdeni. Bet dažas vīnogu šķirnes var izturēt skarbos apstākļus, un Zaccaria teica, ka viņa dzimtajā Apūlijā Itālijas dienvidos vīna dārziem labi klājas klusās vietās ar nelielu nokrišņu daudzumu un bez apūdeņošanas. Saknes aug spēcīgi, viņš teica, rakties dziļāk saplaisājušajā zemē, un vīnogulāji var attīstīties gadu desmitiem.

Jums nav jāšķērso okeāns, lai redzētu, kas ir iespējams. Tā vietā es iekārtojos ceļojumam uz Paso Robles.

Džeisons Hāss jaunībā neplānoja iesaistīties vīna biznesā, bet viņa tēvs Roberts bija galvenais ASV vīna importētājs un franču vīndaru draugs. Tādā veidā Džeisons vienu vasaru, 16 gadu vecumā, strādāja Francijas vīna dārzā. Viņš atgriezās vēl divas reizes, pēc tam studēja ekonomiku, mākslu un arheoloģiju koledžā, pirms strādāja tehnoloģiju jomā.

Līdz tam laikam Roberts Hāss bija iegādājies zemi Paso Roblesā un iestādījis Ronas ielejas dienvidu vīnogas, kuras viņš bija iemīlējis, tostarp grenache, mourvedre, syrah, Russanne un grenache blanc. 2002. gadā vecākajam Hāsam vajadzēja kādu, kam ir tehniskā pieredze, lai palīdzētu viņa Tablaskrīkas vīna dārzā, un viņa dēls pievienojās ģimenes uzņēmumam.

Džeisons aizveda mani uz kalna virsotni Tablasā, kur Grenache un Syrah tika iestādīti apmēram pirms 15 gadiem. Tie bija izvietoti tālāk viens no otra, nekā parasti, tāpēc saknēm ir mazāka konkurence par ūdeni. Hāss saimniecībā tur 200 aitu ganāmpulku. Viņi ravē vīna dārzu, to mēslojums palīdz augsnei noturēt ūdeni, un viņu nagi drīzāk apstrādā, nevis sablīvē zemi.

Viena trešdaļa 120 hektāru vīna darītavas vīnogulāju ir sausi. Pārējiem ir apūdeņošana, bet ūdens nav vajadzīgs, ja nokrišņu daudzums ir tuvu normālam, sacīja Hāss. Tagad viņš ir vīna darītavas īpašnieks, kuru nodibināja viņa mirušais tēvs, un godalgotajos vīnos ietilpst klasiskais Paso maisījums no Syrah, Grenache un Mourvedre. Pirms divām nedēļām temperatūra vairākas dienas pēc kārtas pārsniedza 100, sacīja Hāss. Bet viņa Ronas vīnogas tika galā ar karstumu, bez problēmām.

Man nav nekas pret Cabernet Sauvignon. Ar steiku vai aukstu oktobra nakti, kad Dodgers zaudē, tas ir grogs, pie kura es varētu ķerties, jo tā ir nomierinoša salvija, jūsu mēle kļūst par piparu saraustītu atloku ozolkoka mucā, un jums liekas, ka jūs varētu izaudzēt matus atkal uz galvas.

Bet, ja Kalifornijas nākotnes vīni ir no Dienvideiropas, man ar to viss ir kārtībā. Tie var būt vieglāki un labāk iet kopā ar vistu, zivīm un produktiem, kas ir Kalifornijas virtuves būtība. Mana mīļākā lieta par viņiem? Tie nemaksā gandrīz tikpat daudz kā slavenākās lietas.

Paturot to prātā, es apmeklēju vīrieti, kurš vispirms lika man domāt par vīna un klimata pārmaiņu attiecībām. Es atradu Rendalu Gremu savā vīna dārzā Sanhuanā Bautistā, ko viņš teica, ka pirmo reizi redzēja sapnī, pirms viņš zināja, ka tas pastāv. Here, on 280 acres of terrain he calls Popelouchum — paradise in the Native American language of the Mutsun people — he is trying to create a new variety of grape that will, among other things, stand up to climate change.

Grahm, 67, grew up in Los Angeles and after college got a job “sweeping the floors” at Wine Merchant in Beverly Hills, where he managed to sample enough of the product to know what he wanted to do with himself. That took him to UC Davis for a plant science degree in 1979, after which he borrowed enough money to buy some land in the Santa Cruz mountains town of Bonny Doon, and set out to make a great Pinot Noir, a wine whose light, earthy complexity he considered worthy of worship.

That didn’t go as well as he’d hoped, so Grahm switched his focus to Rhone varietals, and the results catapulted him to wine industry stardom. In 1989, Grahm landed on the cover of Wine Spectator, which crowned him the Rhone Ranger.

You’ve probably had one or more of his wines. Maybe the Big House Red or the Cardinal Zin, both of which were easy on the tongue and the wallet. Another big hit was the somewhat more expensive Le Cigare Volant, or Flying Cigar. To Grahm, soft red blends are more interesting than the big Cabs of Napa Valley.

But commercial success has never defined nor particularly motivated Grahm, who last year sold Bonny Doon but is still the face of it. He is the piano player who must play like no one else has, the artist who’s never entirely satisfied with a painting. His current obsession is to create a wine that is not an impersonation of any other, but is instead a California original. A wine that is the essence of the place and the climate where it’s grown — a vin de terroir.

“Ultimately what’s very important to me is trying to make something that’s truly distinctive, because there’s so much wine in the world, and the world doesn’t need a carbon copy of something that already exists,” said Grahm.

A cool breeze flowed in from the west, across the berry farms east of Watsonville, as I toured paradise with Grahm. The fog doesn’t make many appearances here, he said, but the grapes he’s seeding won’t require a daily cover of maritime mist.

Here the Rhone Ranger is a lone ranger, growing genetically diverse European vines, some of them obscure, with the goal of breeding thousands of new grape varieties. Ultimately, the married vines might produce a grape the world can’t yet imagine but will one day recognize as a true California original, like the giant Sequoia. This could take years, and might or might not work, but in the Grahm gestalt, this project is about more than wine.

Grahm says he aspires to touch the land as lightly as possible, create disease-resistant plants without pesticides or chemicals, dry farm as much as possible, and create grapes that reflect the elements rather than fight to survive them. In other words, he’s after a grape and a wine built to withstand climate change.

The new grape is a ways off, but at a picnic table overlooking paradise, Grahm brought out some of the first wines he’s grown here — a white blend, a Pinot Noir he said he literally made in a galvanized garbage can, and a silky smooth Grenache that was so good I had to raise a glass.


FROM THE ARCHIVES

In The Times’ archives, Lieldienas often meant coverage of sunrise services throughout the area.

Tens of thousands of people would turn out for services at the Hollywood Bowl. But other locations drew crowds too, like the Santa Monica Pier, Mt. Rubidoux and Vasquez Rocks County Park. Attendees would sit among the rocks or stand when all seats had been filled. The services sometimes included large orchestras, choirs and elaborate costumes.

Times staffers photographed dozens of services throughout the years. You can see more here.


Desert flowers

Dune evening primrose

These flowers usually are seen in the foreground of those dreamy desert photos, likely because their large white petals contrast nicely with the surrounding muted tones. As they age, the petals take on a pinkish hue. The trick is to catch the flowers when they’re open: They bloom in the evening (as the name suggests) and last through mid-morning.

These plants aren’t the suburban scourge that messes up your lawn. In the desert, dandelions, which have a small red dot in the center, are less showy and more delicate. They bring waves of yellow to desert washes and canyons in a good year. Expect to find patches alongside trails even in a mediocre season.

These lilies are a desert surprise. Until they bloom, all you see are crinkled gray-green leaves hugging the desert floor. In bloom, several trumpet-shaped flowers burst from a single stalk. Good place to look: the Desert Lily Sanctuary in the Mojave Desert along California 177.

Verbena has bright pink-purplish flowers clustered at the end of long stems that seem to creep along the ground. They’re easy to spot on sandy flats at low elevation, usually next to dune evening primroses.

Cactus flowers come in various colors. See how many you can find: yellowish-green flowers on barrel cactus deep pink on hedgehog and beavertail and off-white flowers with yellow centers on fishhook cactus. The large, waxy flowers are irresistible, so keep your camera close. Best place to see them: the Cactus Loop Trail, less than a mile long, at Anza-Borrego Desert State Park.

These yuccas grow only in the Mojave Desert and are best known for their strange spiky-limbed appearance — as well as a namesake national park and early U2 album. Although their branches appear inhospitable, Joshua trees sprout with glorious creamy white cones. You’ll find them at the park and on easy trails in Arthur B. Ripley Desert Woodland State Park near Lancaster.


Meet the California Couple Who Uses More Water Than Every Home in Los Angeles Combined

R afaela Tijerina first met la señora at a school in the town of Lost Hills, deep in the farm country of California’s Central Valley. They were both there for a school board meeting, and the superintendent had failed to show up. Tijerina, a 74-year-old former cotton picker and veteran school board member, apologized for the superintendent&mdashhe must have had another important meeting&mdashand for the fact that her own voice was faint she had cancer. “Oh no, you talk great,” the woman replied with a warm smile, before she began handing out copies of her book, Rubies in the Orchard: How to Uncover the Hidden Gems in Your Business. “To my friend with the sweet voice,” she wrote inside Tijerina’s copy.

It was only later that Tijerina realized the woman owned the almond groves where Tijerina’s husband worked as a pruner. Lynda Resnick and her husband, Stewart, also own a few other things: Teleflora, the nation’s largest flower delivery service Fiji Water, the best-selling brand of premium bottled water Pom Wonderful, the iconic pomegranate juice brand Halos, the insanely popular brand of mandarin oranges formerly known as Cuties and Wonderful Pistachios, with its “Get Crackin'” ad campaign. The Resnicks are the world’s biggest producers of pistachios and almonds, and they also hold vast groves of lemons, grapefruit, and navel oranges. All told, they claim to own America’s second-largest produce company, worth an estimated $4.2 billion.

The Resnicks have amassed this empire by following a simple agricultural precept: Crops need water. Having shrewdly maneuvered the backroom politics of California’s byzantine water rules, they are now thought to consume more of the state’s water than any other family, farm, or company. They control more of it in some years than what’s used by the residents of Los Angeles and the entire San Francisco Bay Area combined.

Such an incredible stockpiling of the state’s most precious natural resource might have attracted more criticism were it not for the Resnicks’ progressive bona fides. Last year, the couple’s political and charitable donations topped $48 million. They’ve spent $15 million on the 2,500 residents of Lost Hills&mdashroughly 600 of whom work for the couple&mdashfunding everything from sidewalks, parks, and playing fields to affordable housing, a preschool, and a health clinic.

Last year, the Resnicks rebranded all their holdings as the Wonderful Company to highlight their focus on healthy products and philanthropy. “Our company has always believed that success means doing well by doing good,” Stewart Resnick said in a press release announcing the name change. “That is why we place such importance on our extensive community outreach programs, education and health initiatives and sustainability efforts. We are deeply committed to doing our part to build a better world and inspiring others to do the same.”

But skeptics note that the Resnicks’ donations to Lost Hills began a few months after Earth Island Journal documented the yawning wealth gap between the couple and their company town, a dusty assemblage of trailer homes, dirt roads, and crumbling infrastructure. They claim the Resnicks’ influence among politicians and liberal celebrities is quietly warping California’s water policies away from the interests of the state’s residents, wildlife, and even most farmers. “I think the Wonderful Company and the Resnicks are truly the top 1 percent wrapped in a green veneer, in a veneer of social justice,” says Barbara Barrigan-Parrilla of Restore the Delta, an advocacy group that represents farmers, fishermen, and environmentalists in the Sacramento-San Joaquin River Delta, east of San Francisco. “If they truly cared about a sustainable California and farmworkers within their own community, then how things are structured and how they are done by the Wonderful Company would be much different.”

Lynda Resnick’s friends, on the other hand, say she has found her calling. “The work is extraordinary, and rooted in a genuine desire to make a difference in people’s lives,” says media mogul Arianna Huffington. She brushes off any notion that Resnick is in the business of charity for the sake of publicity. “She even turned me down when I asked her to write about it for HuffPost!” she told me. “She does this work because at this point in her life, it’s what she wants to do more than anything.”

In a state of land grabs and Hollywood mythmaking, the Resnicks are well cast as the perfect protagonists. But is their philanthropy just a marketing ploy, or a sincere effort to reform California’s lowest-wage industry? “If you call yourself the Wonderful Company,” Lynda Resnick told me, “you’d better damn well be wonderful, right?”

S unset House, the Resnicks’ 25,000-square-foot Beaux Arts mansion, is imposing even by Beverly Hills standards. Its cavernous reception hall is bedecked with blown-glass chandeliers, its windows draped with Fortuny curtains, and its drawing room adorned with a life-size statue of Napoleon so heavy that the basement ceiling had to be reinforced to bear its weight. The Resnicks purchased and tore down three adjacent houses to make room for a 22-space parking lot and half an acre of lawn. The estate employs at least seven full-time attendants. “Being invited to a dinner party by Lynda Resnick is like being nominated for an Oscar, only more impressive,” local publicist Michael Levine told the Losandželosas biznesa žurnāls. Visitors have included Hollywood A-listers like David Geffen, Steve Martin, and Warren Beatty&mdashor writers like Thomas Friedman, Jared Diamond, and Joan Didion. “I am an intellectual groupie,” Lynda told me. “They are my rock stars.”

A petite 72-year-old, Lynda has a coiffure of upswept ringlets and a coy smile. In conversation, she reminded me of my own charming and crafty Jewish grandmother, a woman adept at calling bluffs at the poker table while bluffing you back. Growing up in Philadelphia in the 1940s, Lynda performed on a TV variety show sponsored by an automat. Her father, Jack Harris, produced the cult hit Lāse and later moved the family to California. Though wealthy enough to afford two Rolls-Royces and a 90210 zip code, he refused to pay for Lynda to attend art school, so she found work in a dress shop, where she tried her hand at creating ads for the store. By the time she was 24, she’d launched her own advertising agency, Lynda Limited, given birth to three children, and gotten divorced. She was struggling to keep things afloat.

Around that time, Lynda started dating Anthony Russo, who worked at a think tank with military analyst Daniel Ellsberg. The Edward Snowden of his day, Ellsberg was later prosecuted for leaking Pentagon documents about the Vietnam War to the press. The trial revealed that he and Russo had spent two weeks in all-night sessions photocopying the Pentagon Papers in Lynda’s office on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles. She even helped, scissoring the “Top Secret” stamps off documents to “declassify” them. “I did one naughty thing,” she told me. “But if I had to do it again, I would.”

A few years later, Lynda met Stewart Resnick. Born in Highland Park, New Jersey, the son of a Yiddish-speaking Ukrainian bartender, Stewart paid his way through UCLA by working as a janitor and went on to found White Glove Building Maintenance, which quickly grew to 1,000 employees and made him his first million before he graduated from law school in 1962. When he needed some advertising work, a friend recommended Lynda’s agency. “I never got the account,” she writes in her memoir, “but I sure got the business.” They were married in 1973.

Stewart capitalized on his wife’s marketing prowess. Their first big purchase as a couple, in 1979, was Teleflora, a flower delivery company that Lynda revitalized by pioneering the “flowers in a gift” concept&mdashblooms wilt, but the cut-glass vase and teddy bear live on. In 1985, they acquired the Franklin Mint, which at the time mainly sold commemorative coins and medallions. Lynda expanded into jewelry, dolls, and precision model cars. She was ridiculed for spending $211,000 to buy Jacqueline Kennedy’s fake pearl necklace at auction, but she then sold more than 130,000 replicas for a gross of $26 million.

The Resnicks expanded into agriculture in 1978, mostly as a hedge against inflation. They purchased 2,500 acres of orange trees in California’s Kern County citrus belt. Ten years later, during the state’s last great drought, they snatched up tens of thousands of acres of almond, pistachio, and citrus groves for bargain prices. By 1996, their agricultural company, Paramount Farms, had become the world’s largest producer and packager of pistachios and almonds, with sales of about $1.5 billion it now owns 130,000 acres of farmland and grosses $4.8 billion.

Along the way, Paramount acquired 100 acres of pomegranate orchards. After the Resnicks’ family physician mentioned the fruit’s key role in Mediterranean folk medicine, Lynda commissioned scientific studies and found that pomegranate juice had more antioxidant properties than red wine. By 2001 she had created Pom and soon was selling juice in little hourglass bottles under the label P&heartsM, a hint at its supposed cardiac benefits. Less subtle was the national marketing campaign, which showed a Pom bottle with a broken noose around its neck, under the slogan “Cheat death.”

Pom was an overnight sensation, doing millions of dollars in sales by the end of the following year&mdashand cementing Resnick’s status as a marketing genius. “Lynda Resnick is to branding what Warren Buffett is to investing,” Gloria Steinem wrote in 2009, in one of dozens of celebrity blurbs for Rubies in the Orchard.

Sometimes, though, Resnick’s Pom claims went too far. Last year, an appeals judge sided with a Federal Trade Commission ruling saying the company’s ads had overhyped Pom’s ability to prevent heart disease, prostate cancer, and erectile dysfunction. “I think it was unfair,” Resnick told me. “And I think it’s a tragedy if the fresh fruits and vegetables that are really the medicine chest of the 21st century have to adhere to the same rules as a drug that could possibly harm you.”

It wasn’t the first time Resnick had pitched her products as health panaceas. As previously reported in Mother Jones, she marketed Fiji’s “living water” as a healthier alternative to tap water, which the company claimed could contain 𔄜,000 contaminants.” She has pushed the cardiovascular benefits of almonds, touted mandarin oranges as a healthy snack option for kids, and called nutrient-dense pistachios “the skinny nut.” Her $15 million “Get Crackin'” campaign, the largest media buy in the history of snack nuts, included a Super Bowl ad starring Stephen Colbert. Pistachio sales more than doubled in just three months and steadily increased over the following year to reach $114 million&mdashproving that, sometimes, money really does grow on trees.

With all this newfound wealth, the Resnicks have ratcheted up their philanthropic profile. At first, it was classic civic gifts: $15 million to found UCLA’s Stewart and Lynda Resnick Neuropsychiatric Hospital $35 million to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art for an exhibition space designed by Renzo Piano and dubbed the Resnick Pavilion $20 million for the Resnick Sustainability Institute at Caltech, which focuses on making “the breakthroughs that will change the balance of the world’s sustainability.” (Wonderful claims to have developed an almond tree that has 30 percent higher yields than a conventional tree, using the same amount of water.)

But in 2010 the Resnicks had an encounter at a dinner party that Lynda says fundamentally changed her approach to philanthropy. Harvard professor Michael Sandel, the ethicist known for his provocative questions, asked the assembled guests if they would be happy living in a town that was perfect in every possible way except for one terrible secret: “Everyone in the town knew that somewhere in that village, in a dank basement, there was a small six-year-old child who was being tortured,” he said, as Resnick later recalled. “And you couldn’t say anything about the torture because if you did you had to leave the town.”

When dinner was over and they got back in the car, Lynda said, “Well, I could never allow even one child to be tortured.” Stewart turned to her and said, “But the child ir being tortured, Lynda. What are you doing about it?”

“And it changed my life that very day,” she said.

When she retold the story onstage at the 2013 Aspen Ideas Festival, Resnick stopped short of spelling out exactly what she thought her husband was alluding to. Her interviewer, former CNN chairman and author Walter Isaacson, didn’t press her on the matter. Nor would she elaborate when I asked her about it. By then she had certainly seen the negative stories, such as the one in the Los Angeles Times that described Lost Hills’ jarring “Third World conditions.”

Isaacson gently picked up his questioning where Resnick had left off: “And that got you involved in the Central Valley of California,” he said. “Why did you choose that?”

“Look, there’s poverty and sadness all over the planet,” Resnick replied, “but I felt that if I was really going to do work, I should start to do work in the place where our employees worked and live. That would be the most meaningful.”

I think they ought to start looking at the farmers,” a woman in yoga pants snapped. She had just been confronted while watering her lawn in Santa Monica by one of the amateur videographers behind last summer’s hottest new California film genre: the drought-­shaming video. The YouTube clip shows her being taunted repeatedly before turning to douse the camera-wielding scold with her hose.

The woman’s anger at being called out and her eagerness to redirect blame reflect common sentiments in an increasingly dry state. The Resnicks, who’ve been anticipating the drought for decades, seem shocked that it has taken everyone else so long to wake up.

“Nobody cared. No one cared about water,” Lynda Resnick told me. “These last four years with this drought, nobody was looking until it affected them. And now that people have to cut back on their water, all of a sudden it has become important.”

It’s true that the Golden State’s vast network of dams, reservoirs, and canals has served the state so well over the past 80 years that Californians have come to take it for granted. Assumed or forgotten is that some 8.7 trillion gallons of water will flow each day into the massive Sacramento-­San Joaquin River Delta, and that 20 percent of it will get sucked by huge pumps into two giant, concrete-lined canal systems and sent hundreds of miles to Southern California’s cities and farms. Delta water has transformed the arid Southland into the state’s population center and the nation’s produce aisle. But it has done so at the cost of pushing the West Coast’s largest estuary to the brink of collapse last year the drought finally prompted regulators to eliminate most Central Valley water deliveries.

Something would have to change, and fast. The Central Valley is in some respects the ideal place to grow fruit and nut trees, with its Mediterranean combination of cool winters and hot summers perfectly promoting flowering, fruit setting, and ripening. But there’s a reason why few trees of any sort grow naturally in the Valley: It averages only 5 to 16 inches of annual rainfall, or what farmers call “God water”&mdashjust 20 percent of what’s required for a productive almond or pistachio harvest. One season without water piped in from the Delta can kill an orchard that took five years to mature. Few farmers are more at risk from the cutbacks than the Resnicks, whose 140 square miles of orchards use about 117 billion gallons of water a year, despite employing cutting-edge conservation technologies.

So like other farmers, the Resnicks have turned to the state’s dwindling reserve of groundwater, sinking wells hundreds of feet deep on their land. Farmers are the main reason that California now pumps nearly seven cubic kilometers of groundwater a year, or about as much total water as what’s used by all the homes in Texas. Sucking water from deep underground has caused the surrounding land to settle as the pockets of air between layers of soil collapse, wreaking havoc with bridges and even gravity-fed canals. Though California passed its first-ever groundwater regulations in 2014, water districts won’t be required to limit pumping for at least another four years.

Historically, farmers pumped just enough groundwater to survive, but in the middle of California’s now five-year drought, nut growers have also used it to expand. Over the last decade, California’s almond acreage has increased by 47 percent and its pistachio acreage has doubled, fueled in the latter case by the Resnicks’ advertising genius. Pistachios are now among the top 10 best-selling salty snack items in the United States, and the Resnicks’ Lost Hills pistachio factory is the world’s largest. To meet robust demand from Europe and Asia, Stewart Resnick last year announced that he wanted to expand nut acreage another 40 percent by 2020. With pistachios netting an astounding $3,519 per acre&mdash4 times more than tomatoes and 18 times more than cotton&mdashhe seemed confident the water would flow uphill to the money.

If you’ve watched Ķīniešu kvartāls or read Cadillac Desert, you know something about California’s complicated and often corrupt 100-year-old fight over water rights. The state’s laws were designed to settle the frontier, and under the “first in time, first in right” rule, the most “senior” water claims are the last to be restricted in times of drought. This means some farmers are still able to flood their fields to grow cattle feed, even as residents of towns such as Okieville and East Porterville have to truck in water and shower using buckets.

But the Resnicks’ water rights, by and large, are not senior. To expand their agricultural empire, they had to find another way to tap into the flow from north to south. And to understand how they were able to do that, you have to start with a two-inch-long minnow that smells like cucumbers.

Once an abundant food source for Northern California’s dwindling salmon population, the Delta smelt has been nearly eradicated by those enormous pumps capturing the flow of water from the Sierras. In 1993, the US Fish and Wildlife Service listed the smelt as “threatened” under the Endangered Species Act, setting the stage for pumping limits. Worried about getting short shrift on water deliveries, the Resnicks and other farmers in five local water districts threatened legal action. So in 1995, state officials agreed to a deal or, as it has been suggested, a staggering giveaway. The farmers had to relinquish 14 billion gallons of “paper water”&mdashjunior water rights that exist only de jure, since there simply isn’t enough rainfall most years to fulfill them. In exchange, they got ownership of the Kern Water Bank, a naturally occurring underground reservoir that lies beneath 32 square miles of Kern County, which sits toward the southern end of the Central Valley. The bank held up to 488 billion gallons of water, and because it sat beneath a floodplain it could be easily recharged in wet years with rainfall and surplus water piped in from the Delta. The Resnicks, who’d given up the most paper water rights, came to hold a majority vote on the bank’s board and the majority of its water.

Over the next 15 years, a series of wet winters left the bank flush with water: Court documents obtained by the Associated Press showed that in 2007 the Resnicks’ share of the bank amounted to 246 billion gallons, enough to supply all the residents of San Francisco for 16 years. The Resnicks invested in their asset, building canals to connect the bank to the state and federal water systems, thousands of acres of recharge ponds capable of sucking imported water underground, and scores of wells. According to the Wonderful vice president who chairs the Kern Water Bank Authority, the water bank “enabled us to plant permanent crops” such as fruit and nut trees.

But a legal cloud has long shadowed the Resnicks’ water deal. The Kern County Water Bank was originally acquired in 1988 by the state to serve as an emergency water supply for the Los Angeles area&mdashat a cost to taxpayers of $148 million in today’s dollars. In 2014, a judge ruled that the Department of Water Resources had turned the water bank over to the farmers without properly analyzing environmental impacts. A new environmental review is due next month, and a coalition of environmental groups and water agencies is suing to return the water bank to public ownership. Adam Keats, senior attorney at the Center for Food Safety, describes the transfer of the water bank to the Resnicks and other farmers as “an unconstitutional rip-off.”

And here’s a key fact to consider against this backdrop: The Resnicks aren’t just pumping to irrigate their fruit and nut trees&mdashthey’re also in the business of farming water itself. Their land came with decades-old contracts with the state and federal government that allow them to purchase water piped south by state canals. The Kern Water Bank gave them the ability to store this water and sell it back to the state at a premium in times of drought. According to an investigation by the Contra Costa Times, between 2000 and 2007 the Resnicks bought water for potentially as little as $28 per acre-foot (the amount needed to cover one acre in one foot of water) and then sold it for as much as $196 per acre-foot to the state, which used it to supply other farmers whose Delta supply had been previously curtailed. The couple pocketed more than $30 million in the process. If winter storms replenish the Kern Water Bank this year, they could again find themselves with a bumper crop of H2O.

Meanwhile, the fight between farmers and smelt has plodded on, with the Resnicks becoming prominent advocates for pumping even more water south to farms. In 2007, a group called the Coalition for a Sustainable Delta began using lawsuits of its own to assign blame for the estuary’s decline to just about everything izņemot farming: housing development in Delta floodplains, pesticide use by Delta farms, dredging, power plants, sport fishing, and pollution from mothballed ships. The coalition’s website doesn’t mention the Resnicks, but it originally listed a Paramount Farms fax number, and three of the four officers on its early tax documents were Resnick employees.

Two years later, with a federal judge now restricting Delta pumping for the sake of the smelt, the Resnicks began raising their concerns with friends in Washington. At the top of that list was California’s senior senator, Dianne Feinstein. (The Resnicks threw a cocktail party for Feinstein when the Democratic Convention came to Los Angeles in 2000 Feinstein and Arianna Huffington once spent New Year’s with the Resnicks at their home in Aspen, Colorado.) Feinstein, who chairs the Senate Appropriations Committee’s powerful energy and water panel, typically serves as the key negotiator on California-related water bills.

Responding to prodding from Stewart Resnick, Feinstein sent a letter to the secretaries of the interior and commerce urging their agencies to reexamine the science behind the Delta environmental protection plan. The agencies spent some $750,000 studying the issue anew&mdashonly to have researchers again conclude the 2007 restrictions on Delta pumping were warranted.

Lynda Resnick rejects the idea that the couple wields any political power on matters of water policy. “We have no influence politically&mdashI swear to you,” she told me. “Nobody has political influence in this. Nor would we use it.”

Yet that’s hard to square against the Resnicks’ approach to state politics. They’ve given six-figure sums to every California governor since Republican Pete Wilson. They donated $734,000 to Gray Davis, including $91,000 to oppose his recall. Then they gave $221,000 to his replacement, Arnold Schwarzenegger, who has called them “some of my dearest, dearest friends.” The $150,000 they’ve sprinkled on Jerry Brown since 2010 might not seem like a lot by comparison, but no other individual donor has given more. The Resnicks also have chipped in another $250,000 to support Brown’s pet ballot measure to fund education.

Now, in a throwback to the sort of massive public-works projects built during his father’s governorship, Brown envisions a bold, silver-bullet solution to the state’s water crisis. He recently unveiled a $15 billion plan to construct two 40-foot-wide tunnels that could carry 67,000 gallons of water per second from the Sacramento River to the Central Valley. The tunnels would completely bypass the ecologically sensitive Delta, eliminating much of the smelt-endangering pumping&mdashand, by extension, many of the restrictions on Delta water diversions that have crimped the Resnicks’ supply.

A win for fish and a win for farmers? Not so fast. Environmentalists fear that removing so much freshwater from the Delta will make it too salty. “You could effectively divert just about every single drop of water before it gets to the estuary in dry years,” says Doug Obegi, a staff attorney with the Natural Resources Defense Council’s water program. There are laws on the books to prevent that from happening, but Central Valley farmers are working diligently to overturn those laws. In June 2015, Rep. David Valadao, a Republican from the Valley, introduced a bill that would force federal regulators to release more Delta water for agriculture. (The Resnicks have given more than $18,000 to Valadao’s campaigns since 2011.) “They really are trying to sacrifice one region for another,” says Restore the Delta’s Barrigan-Parrilla, who will testify against the plan this fall in hearings before the State Water Resources Control Board. “If these plans come to pass, [the tunnels] are a complete existential threat to our communities, our people, and to the environment.”

But the Resnicks have never been ones to let details get in the way of a good marketing campaign. In the summer of 2014, their employees quietly began conducting polling and focus groups to figure out the best way to sell Brown’s plan. Months later they launched Californians for Water Security, a coalition of business and labor interests that promotes the tunnels as an earthquake safety measure. “An earthquake strikes a vulnerable place&mdashthe heart of California’s water distribution system,” cautions the group’s television ad. “Despite expert warnings, crumbling water infrastructure has not been fixed…Aque­ducts fail. Millions lose access to drinking water…Our water doesn’t have to be at risk! Support the plan. Fix the system.”

Three weeks after the ad went live, Gov. Brown held a press conference in which he rebranded his plan as the California Water Fix.

I n the heart of the nut boom is Lost Hills, an entirely flat town where more than half the households have at least one adult who works for the Wonderful Company. The population has doubled since 1990, and the influx of so many new families has meant rising costs. It’s not unusual for a field hand to spend 40 percent of his $1,800 monthly wage on a one-bedroom apartment. “You pay the rent and don’t eat, or you eat and don’t pay the rent,” says Gilberto Mesia, a Wonderful farmworker with three school-age children. More than half of the town’s residents are under the age of 23, a quarter live below the poverty line, and only 1 in 4 adults has a high school degree. “Lost Hills is extreme in every possible way,” says Juan-Vicente Palerm, an anthropologist at the University of California-Santa Barbara. “These are the state’s poorest workers, and they moved to Lost Hills because that was the cheapest place to live.”

On a swelteringly hot day, three Wonderful executives took me on a six-hour tour of nearly everything that the company is doing to improve the lives of the hundreds of employees who reside there. We met at the 14-acre, Resnick-funded Wonderful Park, where they introduced me to Claudia Nolguen, a Wonderful employee and Lost Hills native who coordinates a daily itinerary of free activities for residents. On today’s schedule: a morning fitness class, an after-school computer lab, and a movie night. We walked through the park’s emerald lawn to see its huge water tower, painted with a mural depicting two hills. “You have found Lost Hills,” the slogan said.

Next to the impeccable flower beds at one of the park’s two community centers, food bank workers were unloading enough frozen chicken to feed roughly 400 people. They were expecting a smaller-than-normal crowd. “During the harvest, families aren’t able to take advantage of the distribution,” one of the workers explained. “The usual stay-at-home mom is now working.”

We drove to the Wonderful pistachio factory for lunch. The chef in the employee cafeteria made us adobo-chicken lettuce wraps&mdashpart of a healthy menu intended to combat diabetes and obesity. Baskets on the tables were filled with free fruits and nuts for the taking. The company’s new, far-reaching health initiative also includes free exercise classes in the employee gym, a weekly on-site farmers market, and a program that pays people up to $2,700 a year to lose weight and keep it off. Since the program began in January 2015, the Wonderful workforce has shed 4,000 pounds.

In the plant’s nut-grading room, a few dozen seasonal employees wearing orange reflective vests and hairnets sat around folding tables evaluating samples from incoming truckloads of pistachios. Suddenly, a boom box started blaring merengue, and everyone stood up and danced. It was the daily Zumba break. “It feels good to move around,” one worker told me afterward.

As part of its focus on its workers, the company has built in-house health clinics at its plants in Lost Hills and Delano. The clinics have a full-time, bilingual doctor, health coaches, and prescription medications&mdashall free of charge. “There are all sorts of costs related to poor health,” Stewart Resnick said at the Aspen Institute in July. “My hope is that this really doesn’t become a charity, but rather works, and that we will get a payback”&mdashboth in terms of productivity and reduced health care costs.

A similar return-on-investment logic infuses the company’s educational initiatives. Led by Noemi Donoso, the former chief executive of Chicago’s public school system, Wonderful Education last year spent $9.3 million, including at least $2 million on teacher grants and college scholarships in the Central Valley it pays up to $6,000 a year toward college tuition for children of its employees. It is building a $25 million campus for a college prep academy in Delano and expanding its agriculture-focused vocational program to six public schools. It guarantees graduates of the programs jobs at Wonderful that pay between $35,000 and $50,000 a year. Among the goals is to provide a pipeline of workers to staff its increasingly mechanized operations. “Half the jobs are highly skilled jobs,” said Andy Anzaldo, the general manager of grower relations. “They’re quality supervisors. They’re engineers. They’re mechanics.”

The Resnicks are quick to point out that it’s not just plant workers who’ve benefited­&mdashthe nut boom has improved the lives of farmworkers, too. Back when cotton was still king in Kern County, migrant workers who’d picked spring oranges and summer grapes in other parts of the Valley would descend on Lost Hills for a few weeks to work alongside cotton combines during the fall harvest. It wasn’t easy to bring kids along, so they usually stayed behind in Mexico or Guatemala. But tree crops are different. After the fall harvest comes winter pruning, spring pest management, and summer watering and mowing. The nut industry’s nearly year-round employment has allowed farmworkers to put down roots. They can live with their families, send their kids to school, and start to grasp for the American Dream. Like Rafaela Tijerina did.

Tijerina, who has short gray hair and a cautious smile, grew up in a village near Monterrey, Mexico, before her family moved to South Texas in 1954. She dropped out of school in the eighth grade to pick cotton and chased the cotton trail to Lost Hills, where in 1969 she found a job planting pistachio trees instead. The steady work allowed her kids to graduate from high school and move into the middle class. By 2000, Tijerina and her husband had scraped together enough money to qualify for a USDA loan that helped them buy 330 acres of wheat fields a few miles outside town.

But Tijerina and her husband can’t afford to drill wells or even tap into the supply from the local irrigation district they farm entirely with God water. They haven’t harvested a crop in four years due to the drought, though in December they will plow their fields and plant another. Unless winter storms deliver enough rain, it will be their last shot before they sell out. “It’s tiešām good land,” Tijerina told me, her shaky voice still tinged with optimism. “But the only thing is, we don’t have water.”


Receptes kopsavilkums

  • 1 (.25 unces) iepakojuma aktīvais sausais raugs
  • 4 cups sugar
  • 1 (12 fluid ounce) can frozen juice concentrate - any flavor except citrus, thawed
  • 3 ½ quarts cold water, or as needed

Combine the yeast, sugar and juice concentrate in a gallon jug. Fill the jug the rest of the way with cold water. Rinse out a large balloon, and fit it over the opening of the jug. Secure the balloon with a rubber band.

Place jug in a cool dark place. Within a day you will notice the balloon starting to expand. As the sugar turns to alcohol the gasses released will fill up the balloon. When the balloon is deflated back to size the wine is ready to drink. It takes about 6 weeks total.

Use a frozen juice concentrate without added sweeteners for best results.