February, March, and most of April are relatively quiet months on the farm. They give us the rare luxury of wandering through the orchards, reflecting on what we have achieved over the past twenty years and on what we hope to do in the years ahead. The latter is always easier than the former. Yet whenever we do pause to look back, a familiar question inevitably surfaces: was choosing to go fully organic from the very beginning the right decision?

A recent development near the farm has made that question feel more pointed than usual. Eighteen months ago, a new five-hectare olive orchard was planted on the outskirts of Perpignan — what is known as a "modern" orchard. Traditional olive growers space their trees at roughly seven by seven metres, allowing them to grow freely while leaving room to work the land. Such orchards typically contain around 250 to 300 trees per hectare.

In contrast, "modern" orchards resemble hedgerows more than groves. The trade calls them SHD — Super High Density. Trees are planted just 50 centimetres apart, with rows spaced two metres apart, resulting in an astonishing 2,500 to 3,000 trees per hectare — around ten times the density of traditional plantings. They are pruned in such a way that harvesting is done by machines adapted from viticulture, dramatically reducing costs.

There is, of course, a catch. At such densities, the soil alone cannot meet the trees' nutritional needs. Heavy chemical fertilisation becomes essential, alongside intensive pest and weed control and constant irrigation. The effects are immediately visible. After the major fire in 2024, we replanted around 1,200 young olive trees at Querubi at roughly the same time as the high-density orchard near Perpignan was established. Although planted at the same age, our organic trees remain a fraction of the size of their high-density counterparts. The contrast is, quite literally, stunning.

These modern orchards will begin producing olives an estimated four to six years sooner than our newly planted trees. On the surface, the appeal is easy to understand: higher volumes at lower costs. But the downsides are equally clear. Excessive chemical use devastates the soil's natural fertility, harvesting machines severely damage the trees, and stressed growth drastically compromises fruit quality — resulting in large quantities of mediocre oil sold at low prices.

Back in 2005, we deliberately chose a different path. Organic farming. Letting our trees grow at their own natural rate, producing high-quality, unstressed fruit that leads in turn to olive oil brimming with antioxidants and polyphenols. Limited quantities. High quality. A constant commitment to our natural environment and the fertility of our soils.

Watching the rapid spread of this opposing model across Europe and beyond is, frankly, deeply disheartening. Beyond the acrid scent of chemicals, the battered trees, the unnaturally bare fields and the vast demand for irrigation water, there is something profoundly unsettling in seeing ancient, magnificent olive trees reduced to shrub-like rows — restrained, diminished, rendered unnaturally compliant in service of industrial harvesting.

We all know where these practices lead. It was Masanobu Fukuoka who put it best — and we seem to be quoting him more and more these days:

"Nature is unforgiving. If we neglect her, she will return wielding a pitchfork in vengeance."

Walking through the orchards on silent mid-March afternoons, among thriving and healthy trees, the notion of forcing nature for monetary gain feels profoundly unsettling. So unsettling that it is easy to reaffirm the choice we made twenty years ago as the right one.

Don't mess with nature. Ever.

— The Querubi Team, April 2026