One Hundred Years and Growing
The Symms family has enjoyed a way of life few get to experience: acres of fragrant springtime blossoms, the gentle buzzing of bees in a world that’s sometimes so lush, the sunshine and cornflower-blue sky barely peeking through. For the Symms, the scent of a fresh, crisp, juicy apple at its peak equals home. When RA Symms first saw the area now called Sunny Slope, with its Snake River, sheltering rolling hills and dark volcanic soil, some might surmise he intuitively knew it was just the place for an orchard.
It wasn’t quite that way.
Leaving Kansas in 1914 to fulfill fruit-growing dreams in Oregon’s Willamette Valley, Symms drew on ground through the Bureau of Reclamation, mistakenly thinking his land was near Willamette. Instead, the land drawn was closer to Jordan Valley and Burns, both in Oregon. Symms stopped at the Snake River, not so much out of vision, but because it wasn’t easy to cross. He considered the rich soil and Lake Lowell’s water system and on land filled with nothing but sagebrush, decided to play the hand he’d been dealt.
Motivated by an impending need for food and cash, Symms planted anything he thought might grow well, primarily focusing on cantaloupe. Thankfully, that first season produced enough to feed his growing family, with a surplus to sell.
One hundred growing seasons later, Symms Fruit Ranch spans over 5,000 acres, ships to locations all over the world, employs multitudes of people and is managed by members of the third and fourth generations. Its rich soil now fosters apples, pears, cherries, apricots, peaches, plums, nectarines, wine grapes, onions, forage, seeds, grain and cattle.
Jim Mertz, who married Symms’ granddaughter Kathy, arrived at Symms Fruit Ranch in 1971 knowing little about orchard life. Taught by father-in-law Doyle, his brother Darwin, RA Symms’ sons and cousin Dick, Metz learned that you “get better, then get bigger.” To the Symms family, growing a good product was everything. Vertical integration, meaning that they grow, pack and ship it themselves, was their weapon. They believed in “rowing your own boat” and loving what you do.
The company’s daily management is now in the hands of the “three cousins of the fourth generation,” Dan Symms, Dar Symms and Jamie Mertz.
Jim Mertz’s wife Kathy grew up surrounded by a very stable family atmosphere that included litters of Great Danes, horses and cattle. Her mom and aunt, both great cooks, had a huge garden and rang a bell heard for miles when calling the cousins home from roaming the countryside. Kathy and her farm kid cousins all learned to drive long before Idaho licensed them. The Metz’s now live in her parents’ old house, where Kathy strives to keep her mother Myrtle’s rosebushes, trees, lilies, tulips and groundcover alive.
While a keen appreciation for the past is obvious, a business built around a perishable product encourages a certain urgency. Eighty percent of the property is kept in production, with ground quality, weather and water flow closely monitored. Unafraid to take out a tired orchard, the Symms mercifully allow the land to rest and regain nutrients by planting it with other crops for a time. However, four special trees called numbers One, Two, Three, and Four, planted in 1917, still remain on the property. All currently bear fruit.
“We’re sort of hard-crusted,” Jim Mertz laughed, “but we have some sentiment.”
Though the trees have no proper names, Mertz suggested calling them Adam, Eve, Cain and Abel.
Wanting to ask Mertz about my personal favorite, peaches, I mentioned an unforgettable conversation once overheard from a group of senior ladies lunching at a café. One had said, “I bit into a peach the other day and it was so bitter!”
Another responded, “Oh, dear. Was it your first taste?”
The others shook their heads as the woman nodded. Well aware of the first summer peach anticipation I spoke of, Mertz told me that with fruit, flavor is the ultimate quality judge. A peach, I learned, should be so delicious that you don’t care if every bit of the juice drips down your face. That only comes from fruit that’s been ripened on the tree.
Learning from four generations of Symms growing experience gives me every reason to believe I’ll be able to get my hands on a peach like that this summer.
