Pastoral Ponderings:
A Shepherd's Blog

Don Julio Kim

The oldest profession known to man is alive and well today. From pyramids to palaces, from Vesuvius to Versailles, this occupation has transcended the monumental changes forged by continually enlightened civilizations as it has remained a mainstay of culturally static environs. It is consoling to some, frustrating to others to behold vestiges of our ancestral societies in the midst of the modern era. But this profession covertly blends the essence of antiquity into our daily lives. No, silly, man’s oldest profession is shepherding!

“We have to get that ranch!” Lance breathlessly uttered as we clung to boulders on one of our hikes in Squirrel Creek Canyon. We were struck by the majesty of the humble 1850’s farmhouse that we could see. The house, too, was overlooking the canyon as it had done for 160 years, and its gracefully-angled gables lured us into its stately confidence. The attraction was to the house’s soul, to the roots that it represented. Unlike Homer’s Sirens whose sensuality belied the dastardly consequences of succumbing to their charms, the home’s magnetism lay in its promise of reciprocity. We would protect it and the home would nurture us as it had the pioneering family that built it from wood bartered for fattened pigs.

“To hell with history!” My mom had a way with words. Our old farmhouse presides over the last 200 acres left from the original homestead of over 5,000 acres and there was lots of work to be done to preserve the home and to reclaim the pastures from the mounds of wild blackberries. Mom was being somewhat facetious. She was the fourth generation of a California ranching family and her appreciation for the place was undeniable. Mom just wanted clean and pretty with fresh white paint on the V-groove wood siding and green trim around the hand-blown glass window lites. However, the computer repairman was not so easily placated. “Who needs old?”, he wondered aloud as he discussed his last stop at Malakoff Diggins, an abandoned 19th century mining town that has been preserved in its ghost town glory. We good-humoredly bantered about our differences of perspective but I didn’t want to push hard-core philosophy while he dissected my hard drive. Otherwise, it might be history.

I admit that I can cuss out the new as well as the techie can denounce the old, but my unprintable exclamations ceased as soon as my modem was fixed. The juxtaposition of power lines and rolling hills isn’t adored as much as appreciated for the literal empowerment of our profession on this homestead. We may love what we do but without the computer connection, one of the new tools of the trade, the viability of our business would be questionable. The ultimate satisfaction, however, is akin to a sip of traditional port wine where the blending of old and new is sublime.

“Mom, I’m bringing a couple of friends home for the weekend. They need to chill.” Crystal, our oldest, left her message on voice mail. For 26 years, ever since my pregnancy with her, we have concocted a couple of homemade pizzas every Saturday night. Such fare eases new introductions as well as tempts old friends to return to our weekly tradition. Crystal works for a VC firm and Jim, Michael and Alex are some of the new movers and shakers of the world. The brains behind the R&D of the latest technology and alternative energy solution found the ranch to be the perfect antidote to the high-powered lifestyle they lead in San Francisco. Lance’s cajoling machismo loosened the evening and lengthened the laughter long after the wine wore off.

The ranch hosted our new guests effortlessly. After all, it had seen many changes throughout its lifetime and had observed new innovations blend into the present and become timeworn themselves. The statuesque hand-hewn post and beam barn may be a reminder of times long gone but it, too, is renewed with our sheep operation. My grandmother had commented that our homestead is “a little piece of paradise” and our new visitors were reaffirming the sentiment.

On his last visit Jim brought his first vintage of Don Julio Kim’s delicious Zinfandel. Jim doesn’t yet grow the grapes but he has found a satisfying and successful hobby in the age-old tradition of winemaking. Our visitors are relaxed and we are energized as we gaze out from the ranch house porch onto the surrounding hillsides, a view that continues to inspire a new generation.

copyright@2010.
Lance and Gay Columbel. All rights reserved.