after the Hollywood producer. Vazquez and Didion had a special relationship, with him granting her access to the peaceful greenhouses on the property for the purchase of a nickel pansy. There, Didion would ensconce herself among the orchids in an oxygen bubble to write free from distractions. In “The White Album,” she wrote of her fondness for greenhouses, and the ones at Arthur Freed Orchids in particular: “Back in this canyon near my house twenty-five years later were what seemed to me the most beautiful greenhouses in the world — the most aqueous filtered light, the softest tropical air, the most silent clouds of flowers.” Forty-five years after “The White Album” was published, Arthur Freed Orchids and the greenhouses once filled with yawning flowers that Didion revered are a thing of the past. In their place today stands Zuma Canyon Orchids, a multipurpose space that’s described on its website as “a regenerative farm, educational center, apothecary, and center for the arts.” With a focus on regenerative farming, the compound aims to boost soil health, raise livestock, and grow a bounty of produce.
“The last chapter of ‘The White Album’ was about this property,” Kevin Augunas, a founder and land steward at Zuma Canyon Orchids, tells me on my visit to the farm as we sit around a table in the apothecary housed in the old tractor barn. Dried, muted-yellow chrysanthemums — which flourished in the area after the destructive Woolsey Fire of 2018 — hang from the rustic ceiling, while a still sits in the corner, and on the table it’s hard to ignore the pungent scent of handmade soaps, made with ingredients grown on the farm. It was important to Augunas, when he start- ed Zuma Canyon Orchids in 2020, that his new project honored the former orchid farm that once stood there. Before getting into farming, Augunas himself fit the mold of many before him who vis- ited or lived in the area. He had a storied career as the owner of the label Fairfax Recordings and a music producer who nurtured the careers of art- ists like The Lumineers, Cold War Kids, and Ed- ward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. After leav- ing the music business in 2016, Augunas became
passionate about agriculture as he learned more about the connection between our health and the quality of the food we eat. That passion was rein- forced when his father died at 53, prompting him to prioritize a healthier lifestyle. So when Augunas
learned that the orchid farm became available, he had the idea to explore an agricultural project there. And he called two people to make it happen. The first person Augunas rang was Trevor Jahangard, then the director of agricultural operations at Apricot Lane Farms, a unicorn regenerative farm made famous in the 2019 Netflix documentary, “The Biggest Little Farm.” It’s also where Augunas met Jahangard, while he was visiting the Moorpark, California, property. Jahangard — who is now farm
Previous page: (front, left to right): Trevor Jahangard, Neil Harrison, and Kevin Augunas with the tree cutting team. This page, clockwise from left: Harrison carries a Stan Bitters planter; Bitters’ distinctive work is all around the property. The apothecary and dinner under the moonlight. (left to right): Jeffrey Hutchinson, Connor Matts, Jess Karpiak, Harrison, Jahangard, and Augunas.
California’s verdant Malibu canyons became a hot spot for counterculture movements, drawing iconic creative figures who sought refuge from the bustling city life of Los Angeles and elsewhere. The region’s winding trails, hidden groves, and panoramic vistas provided the perfect backdrop for open-minded expression and collaboration. Legendary musicians like Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, and Jim Morrison found inspiration in the serene landscape, writing classic songs that reflected the spirit of the times. The sense of community
“Back in this canyon near my house twenty-five years later were what seemed to me the most beautiful greenhouses in the world — the most aqueous filtered light, the softest tropical air, the most silent clouds of flowers.”
within the canyons throughout the Santa Monica Mountains was infectious, with informal gatherings, jam sessions, and impromptu art shows becoming commonplace. This creative camaraderie extended beyond music. Visual artists painted, sculpted, and architects built eclectic spaces that harmonized with the natural surroundings. Writers penned novels and screenplays, their words infused with the mystique of the canyons. In 1971, the young reflective writer Joan Didion landed there with her husband, at the end of Trancas Canyon Road just yards away from Broad Beach where she penned a lot of her most well- known work, including her book of essays “The White Album.” In it, she references Amado Vazquez, an orchid farmer at Arthur Freed Orchids, named
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ISSUE 01
THE GREEN ALBUM
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