Our Growers
On the Cavaleto ranch in the Las Posas Valley, lemons and avocados grow under the same sun that welcomed the first members of Richard’s family to California more than 130 years ago. This land — shaped by generations of hands, decisions, experiments, and hopes — is much more than a business. It is, in every sense, home.
The Cavaleto story begins in 1890, when Richard’s great‑grandfather arrived from Italy as a teenager. He and his brother settled in Goleta, where they worked in the fields and eventually purchased their own land. That act of courage and determination launched the family’s California farming legacy.
Richard’s grandfather continued the tradition on Patterson Avenue in Goleta, raising citrus and raising three sons — each of whom farmed. In 1957, when Richard’s father left the Army, he was given the Las Posas Valley ranch. Richard was just a baby then, but the grove became the backdrop of his childhood.
“I grew up checking irrigation with my dad, picking fruit, spreading fertilizer,” he says. “I have so many good memories of working beside him.”
The Cavaleto property has seen several agricultural eras. When the family first took it over, the area was full of walnut growers. That changed in the 1960s, when they pulled out the walnuts and planted Valencias and lemons. For 30 years, oranges dominated the farm.
Eventually, the family shifted more fully into lemons — while also leasing part of the land for vegetable flowers, and later reclaiming it to plant 18 acres of avocados.
Today, the ranch supports:
It’s a blend of tradition and adaptation — a nod to history, but firmly rooted in the needs of the future.
“Bloom, tiny fruit, mature lemons ready to pick — all at once. Lemon trees are incredible.”
- Melanie Cavaleto
Richard did not come straight back to farming. After earning his degree in Agricultural Engineering at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, his plan was to return home — but the economy was bleak in the early 1980s.
“My parents said, ‘You’d better find something else for now.’”
He went on to earn a Master’s and PhD from UC Davis, then spent 35 years in higher education, teaching power machinery, precision agriculture, and safety at Oregon State and Cal Poly. He eventually became a department head and associate dean.
But farming never left him.
He kept in touch with the ranch, always imagining a return. And when retirement finally came, the dream he’d held since college became real.
Richard didn’t just return — he returned with tools.
“Soil sensors, moisture monitors, more efficient irrigation — I’ve worked hard to bring new technology onto the ranch,” he says.
He and Melanie, who now works alongside him, are deeply committed to:
Melanie lights up when she walks the blocks in spring:
“Bloom, tiny fruit, mature lemons ready to pick — all at once. Lemon trees are incredible.”
She crouches to show a “baby lemon,” smiling like she’s holding a secret.
Richard is honest — being a farmer today isn’t easy.
He names three major challenges:
1. Water
The Sustainable Groundwater Management Act (SGMA) dictates how much water they can pump, and drought makes groundwater unpredictable.
“Every drop counts,” he says. “We have to irrigate smarter, not more.”
2. Labor
“It’s hard work,” Richard says. “Not everyone wants to do it. I’m so grateful for the people who prune, pick, and care for these trees.”
3. Regulation
“We wear every hat — grower, accountant, compliance officer. For small farms, the administrative load is heavy.”
Still, he remains optimistic and driven — because the work matters.
For Richard, Sunkist represents voice and community.
“I’m not just a cog in the wheel. As a Sunkist grower, I’m involved from the farm to the consumer. I have ownership, I have a voice.”
At grower meetings, he gathers with neighbors — many of whom he went to school with — to share stories, challenges, and solutions.
Melanie says the community feels like extended family:
“When someone has snail problems, we call each other. When someone needs help, you offer it. It’s comforting to marry into a family and a co‑op like this.”
Farming is 24/7.
Frost nights.
Windstorms.
Coyotes chewing irrigation lines.
Broken trees.
Gopher holes.
Sunrises that feel like reward.
Richard wouldn’t trade it.
“It’s what gets me up in the morning,” he says. “And sometimes up at night.”
He loves being known as “the citrus and avocado guy” at church — the one people ask for help diagnosing their backyard trees.
He loves the cycle of citrus — bloom, set, harvest — year after year.
And he loves sharing it with Melanie, their community, and, someday, he hopes, the next generation.
Richard’s biggest wish is that somebody — a child, a grandchild, or another farmer who shares the same values — will take the ranch into the next generation.
“Legacy is fragile,” he says. “Data shows how hard it is for small farms to survive generational transition. But Sunkist helps — they support small growers like us.”
And Melanie? She sees the beauty in what they’ve built.
“It’s comforting to know we’re part of a community of families who support each other,” she says. “It makes me proud to be a Cavaleto.”
Richard still misses his dad. He wishes he could ask him why they built irrigation valves in certain spots, or how he handled frost in the old days. But he feels him everywhere:
In the rows.
In the soil.
In the work.
In the legacy.
And Melanie feels it, too:
“Families are still working together here. Sunkist still helps those families. That’s special.”
On frost nights, Richard starts all six wind machines by hand. He checks the neighbors’ ranches, exchanging updates in the cold. It’s what community looks like — and what the future of California citrus depends on.
