Mesquite tree is a lifeline
Open the door to the Tumacacori Mesquite Sawmill gallery in the rural, rolling hills of Santa Cruz County, Arizona, an hour south of Tucson, and a soft aroma wafts out.
“I think it smells a little nutty,” says co-owner Valerie Lavender, of Arizona’s oldest mesquite source. On display are handsome cutting boards, crosses, urns and custom furniture.
For those who don’t live in the region, mesquite chips used for grilling and smoking may be their only point of reference. But this Southwestern tree that’s many times harder than oak or maple, has been used for hundreds of years for building and fuel. Like the Native people of the region, it’s a desert survivor. It once grew in giant forests, called bosques in Spanish, throughout the Southwest.
“There are 42 species of mesquite around the world, but only velvet mesquite is native to the Sonoran Desert,” explains Lavender’s husband and co-owner, Art Flores. “Mesquite is extremely dense, but not porous, so it’s also buoyant. It was once used for shipbuilding in the Sea of Cortez. Because of the harsh desert conditions, mesquite grows slowly, and imperfectly, which results in spectacular grain and character. Some trees live up to 200 years.”
Visitors are invited to freely walk through the lumberyard, where lumber slabs are exposed to the elements. Yet none are warped or twisted. “Most woods have to be kiln dried, but we live in a kiln,” Flores says with a chuckle of Arizona’s searing, dry climate.
The magnificence of mesquite is on full display. Burls create gorgeous swirls and when you split a log, a “book match,” is revealed, a mirrored pattern on both sides. Lavender invites me to run my hand down the length of a board. “The cell structure is so dense and smooth, you’ll never get a splinter,” she says.
Flores adds, “Mesquite dictates what you do to it before you touch it with chain saw. It tells a story.” And that story, like the tree’s deep taproot, has been meaningful to Indigenous people for millennia.
Reverence and roots
Lavender is Diné and her mother, sister and aunt still live in the Nation in Four Corners area of Arizona. “Mesquite has been culturally important to more than 20 tribes in Arizona alone,” says Lavender. “Desert mesquite provides a sacred connection to Mother Earth for many Indigenous projects.”
“Many tribes have grown up with this tree,” she says. “During The Long Walk, when our people were forced off their homelands to Fort Sumner, New Mexico, they dug up mesquite roots for heating and cooking. Mesquite saved lives.”
Mesquite still saves lives. “Every fall, we haul wood up to the reservation to keep our elders warm during the cold winters,” says Lavender.
The mill has also donated specialty items such as a stunning fireplace mantle for the Elders Room at the Tohono O’odham Nation Culture Center and Museum. They have also participated in the wood restoration of the historic San Xavier Del Bac Mission, and provided the mesquite posts for the construction of a wheelchair-accessible treehouse at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. More recently, the mill has provided outdoor benches and tables for two new elementary schools and a police station on the Gila River Indian Community.
Small and mighty
Everything they make is one of a kind, custom-made and handcrafted by skilled artisans. The bigger pieces — cabinets, doors, mantles, shelving, tables — have been shipped across the U.S. and Mexico. The team makes their own crates to safeguard each piece, and in some cases, have driven long distances for on-site installations.
Locals such as Nellie Bracker are mesmerized by mesquite’s enduring beauty. Since 2022 her home has featured the rich, deep honey-hued wood in the kitchen, dining and living room. “Everything about mesquite is art. And, you don’t have to put down coasters — glasses leave no rings!”
Tumacacori Mesquite Sawmill’s reputation has mostly spread through word of mouth, which suits them just fine. “We’re not a high-volume business,” Flores says. “There’s only so much usable mesquite available at a given time. We may get one tree this week and then not another for weeks or months. We have to balance supply, demand and capacity.”
So where do the mill’s mesquite trees come from? Flores says sources include ranchers looking to increase pastureland, road construction crews, land developers and utility companies. Recently, the mill joined with Pattern Energy to repurpose mesquite that was targeted for removal in the San Pedro River basin where electrical towers and power lines will run through.
“In working with Valerie and Art, we discovered shared values and a unique chance to give new life to mesquite resources impacted by our operations,” says Chase Taylor, Pattern’s senior manager of environmental compliance and strategy. “Valerie and Art’s craftsmanship breathes new life into mesquite wood, embodying the respect and care our communities hold for the Southwest.”
A previous four-year partnership with the nearby Bureau of Land Management’s Las Cienegas National Conservation Area allowed the removal of trees to restore the historic grasslands habitat for the successful reintroduction of pronghorn antelope.
“That’s so much better than pushing over the trees and burning them,” Flores says. “We don’t advocate clear-cutting or the exploitation of our desert treasure. However, if a tree is destined for removal, we acquire the usable biomass and create unique mesquite designs that can be enjoyed for generations.”