Building organically

Not too many years ago, but a lifetime or two ago, when I was an agricultural newspaper editor, I interviewed a rancher/ranch developer.

This gentleman owned and had built ranches from Florida to Wyoming. While it is terribly impolite to ask a man the size of his spread, the total acreage of the lands he had title to is larger than most New England states. We visited and talked as we walked over his newly acquired land in Colorado. This piece of land was several thousand acres of sage, pinon, arroyos, mountains, lakes and meadows. I asked him how he went about developing a working ranch from raw land.

He explained that he had learned to let it grow in a natural fashion. For the first two years, he doesn't put anything permanent on any ranch, except perimeter fencing. The interior fencing is all electric wire and stake. The bunkhouses are on skids. The mess hall is a big canvas tent.

For two years, the ranch manager and the cowboys move things as needed and settle in. The cattle find their wallows, the horses graze the meadows and the critters and humans make paths and roads just with their natural movement. Two years gives the people a chance to see where the water pools and drains, where the wind howls and where the snow builds up.

He explained that after two years, you could start to finish the roads, build corrals in logical places and build houses for the people in places that worked.

It made sense to me when I did the interview. Now, as we are in the process of developing Foxbriar into a sustainable, comfortable home for a widely diverse group of people and flora and fauna, it makes as much sense as ever.

So, Robin and Summer are bringing out their yurt, Summer's sisters are going to come and play and get a feel for the land. Shawn, Lena and I are pushing our campers around and moving the fencing to meet the critters needs.

It is a growth process, and growth takes time. Maybe lifetimes.