How are spring tea harvests faring amidst extreme weather?
Foodthink Says
This spring tea season, Guizhou’s spring tea has seen a significant decrease in yield due to climatic factors, while tea farmers in Tianmu Mountain in Zhejiang experienced a sequence of low temperatures followed by sudden heat. The impact of spring droughts on tea production is also becoming increasingly impossible to ignore. In 2023, the author of this article visited the production area of Xinyang Maojian to document the impact of drought on local tea gardens.
Looking back to this time last year, I was working on-site in Xinyang, Henan, planning and filming a series of shorts about “Xinyang Tea” for the “TBB Community Architecture and Culture Season”. At the time, however, consecutive droughts through winter and spring had delayed the growth of the tea. In some gardens, migrant tea workers had arrived for the season, yet the tea trees were not yet ready for harvest. The farmers’ anxiety was as palpable as the scorched and curled tea leaves. My own work was also waiting for the signal to “start harvesting” before I could begin filming; carrying my camera, I experienced for myself what it means to be at the mercy of the weather.
Among my three subjects, Zhang Chao of Deyi Tea Garden in the Suihe District was the first to confidently give the signal to start harvesting.
I. Searching for a Wilderness Hill
The origins of Xinyang tea can be traced back to the Eastern Zhou period, and historically it has been a representative of the “Huainan Tea Region”. Lu Yu’s *The Classic of Tea* records: “Huainan tea, especially from Guangzhou, is superior” (referring to present-day Huangchuan County and other areas in Xinyang). In 1915, the “Spring Tea Maojian” nominated by Xinyang won a gold medal at the Panama-Pacific International Exposition in San Francisco, and from then on, Xinyang tea entered the ranks of modern China’s most famous teas.
On 9 March 2023, I first visited Deyi Tea Garden in Dongjiahe Town, Suihe District, Xinyang.
Setting off in the afternoon, my spring clothes felt too heavy, and a blast of hot air hit my face as soon as I opened the window. After many days of unbroken sunshine, temperatures had risen above 25°C for five consecutive days; on that day, it actually reached 28°C (recorded as 29°C by some), the peak temperature for March that year.
The car turned onto a small mountain path, the gradient rising slowly. Neatly planted tea fields covered the hillsides on either side, and occasionally, a few farmhouses and stretches of strip-shaped reservoirs came into view.
The navigation announced we were arriving at the destination, but the road had simply ended. After a moment of mutual confusion with the driver, I resignedly got out of the car. Once I had found my bearings, I retraced my steps, climbed the shaded mountain path I had just missed, and made my way through the gates of the tea garden. The warm, heavy breeze gradually cleared, a coolness rose, and as I felt the distinct microclimate of the small mountain, I let out a deep, cleansing breath.
Zhang Chao came out to greet me. His skin was dark, and his hair was shorn so short it was almost a bald head, the sunlight glinting brightly off his scalp.
Thinking this must be quite refreshing, I didn’t start with a greeting, but instead exclaimed: “It’s far too hot today!” He chuckled and invited me into the tea room to talk over a drink. A cup of green tea at such a time is the most refreshing way to quench one’s thirst.
Deyi Tea Garden covers about 400 mu, with over 300 mu dedicated to tea cultivation. It is a relatively isolated valley that was a wilderness hill before construction began in 2013. Zhang Chao and his partners spent eight months searching for this particular piece of wilderness.
Zhang Chao is a native of Xinyang, though he had settled in Hainan in his early years for work. Ten years ago, he travelled dozens of times between the river and the sea, driving round and round the main tea-producing regions of Xinyang. Finally, by a stroke of luck and through a friend’s introduction, he found this abandoned valley near Nanwan Lake, which had escaped industrial development.
Returning to his hometown at the age of 40, Zhang Chao wanted to establish a tea garden managed using natural farming methods. While working in IT in Haikou, he and some friends had run a small family farm. Inspired by the natural farming methods of A-lang, he felt the call of his homeland as he entered his forties.
As a child, his family had two white tin buckets specifically for storing tea; the filling and emptying of these buckets became a measure of the passing seasons. From watching his father drink tea to becoming a parent himself, and from Henan to Hainan, the flavour of Xinyang Maojian continued to arrive seasonally every year. Thus, an idea gradually took hold: could he return home and produce Xinyang tea using natural farming? To return to nature, and to return home.
Zhang Chao’s one-sentence summary of natural farming is: to engage in agricultural production in a way that follows the laws of nature. This is also a continuation of traditional Chinese farming wisdom, consisting of five elements: no fertilisers, no pesticides, no weeding, continuous cropping*, and the use of saved seeds.
*Note: Unlike the “crop rotation” we often hear about, “continuous cropping” refers to planting a single crop on the same piece of land consecutively. The advantage lies in increasing the adaptability and affinity between the plant and the soil, nurturing the soil’s microbial environment, and allowing plants to survive long-term in a familiar soil setting. Aside from the fruit, all other parts of the plant (such as stray branches and fallen leaves) are cyclically returned to the soil.
II. Sowing a Batch of Tea Seeds
The award-winning spring Maojian tea originated from the ‘Hongji Tea Society’ (later renamed the ‘Cheyun Tea Society’) on Cheyun Mountain—one of the ‘clouds’ within the ‘Five Clouds, Two Pools, One Village’ core production area of Xinyang Maojian.
Regarding the origins of the Cheyun Mountain tea seeds in modern times, records indicate that during the Guangxu period of the Qing Dynasty, Xinglong Temple monks brought back tea seeds from Lu’an in Anhui province for planting; later, the Cheyun Tea Society sourced seeds from Anhui, Zhejiang, and Hubei. Similarly, during the late Qing and early Republic periods, the ‘Eight Great Tea Societies’ of Xinyang frequently recorded the purchase of seeds and the hiring of tea masters from other provinces.
The so-called ‘Xinyang population variety’ possesses mixed characteristics, making it difficult to trace a specific ‘type’. However, Zhang Chao believes that because these seeds and trees have survived and evolved in the Xinyang region over the long term, they have fully adapted to the local climate and soil, becoming truly indigenous.
The dry-land tea seeds brought from Cheyun Mountain were sown directly using the traditional ‘yangmao wo’ (seedling nest) method: digging a small hole amidst the overgrown mountain forest, planting the tea seed, and waiting for it to germinate naturally.
This method of sexual reproduction via seeds aligns with the plant’s natural state: roots develop first, followed by sprouts. This allows the main root of the tea tree to strike deep, making it resilient to poor soil and drought, and better equipped to draw moisture and nutrients from deep within the earth.
The seeds were planted in 2013, and harvesting began five years later; ten years have passed since. The tea garden is now lush, with trees of varying forms and tea of differing flavours—what Zhang Chao calls ‘nature’s blend’.
III. Local Rebirth: Xinyang No. 10
The ‘Old Dry-land Tea’ grown in the garden has never been watered manually, relying entirely on ‘heaven and earth’—natural rainfall and the moisture within the soil. The addition of this equipment is for 50 acres of newly reclaimed land on the back mountain, dedicated specifically to planting ‘Xinyang No. 10’.
Before the 1970s, the ‘Xinyang population variety’ was the primary tea cultivar in Xinyang, but these population varieties were inconsistent in shape and appearance, and tended to sprout late. In the mid-1970s, Xinyang began introducing sexual-line tea varieties from provinces such as Fujian, and from the 1990s onwards, there was a strong push to introduce high-quality asexual-line cultivars from the south. In particular, to meet the consumer demand for Xinyang Maojian, varieties that were ‘early-sprouting’ and ‘highly pubescent’ (such as ‘Fuding Dabaihao’ and ‘Baihao Zao’) were imported. As southern tea moved north, Xinyang also actively worked on breeding its own local varieties.
Our conversation was interrupted by a phone call; the technician installing the water pump had arrived. This marks the first time Deyi Tea Garden has implemented irrigation equipment. The tea trees in the garden have never been watered manually, relying entirely on ‘heaven and earth’—natural rainfall and the moisture within the soil. The addition of this equipment is for 50 acres of newly reclaimed land on the back mountain, dedicated specifically to planting “Xinyang No. 10“. Before the 1970s, the Xinyang population variety was the primary tea cultivar in the region. In the mid-1970s, sexual-line tea varieties were introduced from provinces such as Fujian, and from the 1990s onwards, high-quality asexual-line cultivars from the south were vigorously introduced. Simultaneously, modern standardised tea garden management was popularised, emphasising land-use efficiency and crop yields, supported by the construction of an external input system for soil nutrient preservation, weed management, and pest control. ‘Xinyang No. 10’ is an asexual-line cultivar bred by the Xinyang Tea Experiment Station between 1976 and 1994 from the Xinyang population variety. It is described as a ‘high-quality, high-yield green tea variety with strong stress resistance and cold tolerance, suitable for the Jiangbei tea region’ [3], and has been a commercial variety heavily promoted and subsidised by the Xinyang local government for many years.
‘Xinyang No. 10’ is an asexual-line tea cultivar bred by the Xinyang Tea Experiment Station between 1976 and 1994 from the ‘Xinyang population variety’. It is an early-sprouting, high-quality, cold-resistant variety ideal for green tea production, and has been a focus of promotion and subsidies by the Xinyang local government for years.
In response to the government’s call, Deyi Tea Garden established a new plot in 2022 to trial Xinyang No. 10, exploring its adaptability through the lens of natural farming management.
Unlike the old drought-resistant tea in the park, which is grown from seeds through sexual reproduction, ‘Xinyang No. 10’ is a clonal variety primarily propagated through cuttings. Its superior traits can be passed down—or rather, ‘copied’—from generation to generation. The buds and leaves of the plants are uniform and the internal quality is stable, making standardised and mechanised operations easier, both in park management and during harvesting and processing.
In contrast to the ‘taproot’ seen in sexually reproduced old drought-resistant tea, the cuttings of ‘Xinyang No. 10’ lack a distinct taproot. Instead, they develop lateral roots (also known as fibrous or adventitious roots), which are shallower and spread horizontally well, but have limited vertical growth. In an environment that relies long-term on external water and fertiliser inputs, the root system has little incentive to grow deep, remaining instead in the shallow layers of the soil.
Because Xinyang No. 10 seedlings have low resistance and high water requirements during their early stages, and because the garden’s infrastructure was limited—coupled with the general drought of 2022—planting was long delayed. Compared to the naturally rooted old drought-resistant tea in the park, ‘Xinyang No. 10’ is like a pampered city child visiting their grandmother in the countryside. The park was forced to ‘upgrade’ its facilities to meet the variety’s growth requirements.
Once the water pumps were installed, Zhang Chao ran a long hose into a nearby tea garden to test the flow and pressure, which also happened to cool down the drought-stricken tea plants after days of high temperatures. This was the first time in ten years that Deyi Tea Garden had been watered artificially.
IV. Old Drought-Resistant Tea is Hardier against Drought and Cold
Local farmers rely primarily on surface water. While the mountain forests should naturally conserve water sources, this function has been lost due to extensive tea garden development and agricultural pollution. Now, with surface water scarce, wells run dry if it does not rain for two consecutive months. “We live right by Nanwan Lake, yet we have no water to drink.”
In the face of drought, larger tea enterprises can build water towers and lay irrigation equipment, while small-scale farmers bear the financial burden of buying pumping equipment to water their gardens. However, water resources are scarce on one hand, and on the other, the absorbent capacity of the soil is limited unless the long-term problem of soil compaction is solved. In severe cases, walking through a tea garden feels like walking on a concrete road. There is anxiety over withering during droughts and fear of erosion during rains; the common saying that tea plants prefer a gentle drizzle is simply a result of them being pampered by human intervention.
The last more severe drought occurred in 2019, at which time farmers in the valley struggled even with their daily drinking water.
Local farmers rely primarily on surface water. While the mountain forests should naturally conserve water sources, this function has been lost due to extensive tea garden development and agricultural pollution. Surface water is now scarce; if it does not rain for two consecutive months, the wells run dry. “We live right by Nanwan Lake, yet we have no water to drink.”
Due to the drought, many conventional tea farmers have taken on the financial pressure of purchasing pumping equipment to water their gardens. But without solving the chronic issue of soil compaction, the soil’s absorption is limited, and walking through the garden feels like walking on a concrete road.
Climate change is becoming increasingly evident; the tea trees wither without rain, yet heavy downpours wash away the topsoil. The notion that tea plants only like a light drizzle is really just a sign of how pampered they have become.
Zhang Chao, however, believes that recent droughts are both a test for Deyi Tea Garden and an opportunity for observation. The internal geological structures of the mountain, which cannot be seen by the naked eye, are revealed through the growth patterns of the tea plants during a drought.
Some drought-resistant tea in the park shows slightly stunted growth, possibly because the soil layer is thin and sits atop solid rock, preventing the root systems from penetrating deep. A nearby cluster of plants that remains sturdy indicates that the soil is thick enough and rests on weathered rock. Recent road repairs in the park, where excavators revealed cross-sections of the mountain, confirmed his hypothesis. He was even delighted to discover tea taproots reaching 1.5 to 1.6 metres in length.
According to the local old drought-resistant tea, it has undergone generations of domestication and adaptation; “cold resistance” is a survival necessity written into its genes. Southern tea varieties grown further north inevitably encounter frost disasters to some degree every year.
● Zhang Chao has preserved a small corner of a conventionally planted tea garden on the edge of the park. Through comparison, the difference in density between ecological and conventional planting is immediately apparent. In an ecologically managed system, each tea plant is able to access more resources.
While the overall climate is warming, the increased volatility of temperatures, more concentrated rainfall, and the rising frequency of extreme weather events bring an inevitable risk of crop failure and a cascade of secondary disasters.
Compared to the onslaught of these climatic shifts, the slight advantage of an earlier harvest is a negligible consolation.
The rolling vistas of tea gardens are not necessarily a sign of health; they may be nothing more than green dunes. Deprived of a healthy soil structure and internal biodiversity, and heavily dependent on fossil-fuel-based inputs, such a garden is like a patient kept alive by medication and life-support machines—their own innate immunity and regenerative powers have ceased to function.
Zhang Chao, however, shared none of this anxiety. Firstly, to respect the garden’s ecological carrying capacity and minimise waste, he has employed local pickers for many years. Secondly, thanks to the micro-environment fostered by years of natural farming, his tea garden remained largely unaffected by the drought; the budding rate is impressive, and the harvest is imminent.
V. Spring Tea Harvest: Wild Greens as Delicacies
The tea trees were in excellent condition, but my attention was drawn more to the other plants. Zhang Chao pointed out his botanical treasures: honeysuckle here, wild grapes there. The Chinese wild cherries had faded, but apricot and peach blossoms were about to peak. After one more rain, the ‘wawaquan’ (fiddleheads) in the tea fields would fully emerge.
The variety of unnamed trees and shrubs was beyond counting. Some wild fruit trees in the mountains had been regrafted, yielding more fruit each year than could be eaten. Combined with a few small private plots, their fruit and vegetable needs were entirely self-sufficient. There was also a grove of Eucommia, growing in dense, crooked lines—a living memory of the ‘work points’ system from the era of the people’s communes.
A few acres of paddy fields remained in the lower part of the garden. Rice had indeed been grown there for several years, but when the elderly farmer retired, no one took over, so they were left as idle reservoirs. Yet, they were not truly idle; whether as paddy fields or ponds, these areas acted as wetlands, helping to shape the local microclimate. Remarkably, a cluster of shade-loving rhododendrons had bloomed in the sunny tea fields nearby.
The reason I brought a hoe up the mountain was to dig for bamboo shoots. The mountain’s bamboo groves remain untouched; “if it can be left alone, we leave it alone.” However, some shoots inevitably spread into the tea fields, and if left unchecked, they hinder the growth of the tea trees. Thus, “we control them by eating them!”
A single walk through the hills provided all the ingredients for the day. The bamboo shoots, fish mint, fiddleheads, Houttuynia, and Toona sprouts for lunch were all gifts from the forest.
On 29 March, harvesting officially began, only one day later than last year. At 5 am, while the sky was still dim, pickers began arriving on their electric scooters. The two-month spring tea season had formally commenced.
Zhang Chao entered his busiest period of the year: patrolling the mountains in the morning, inspecting the fresh harvest at noon, and pan-firing the tea and supervising production in the afternoon. This cycle continued for two months, sometimes with only four hours of sleep a night, yet he felt this was the time of year when he was at his most mentally alert.
Once the tea season ended, a flurry of hosting duties, research visits, and academic exchanges followed. Two more months passed, and by then, he felt truly exhausted. “Actually,” he remarked, “dealing with nature is the most relaxing part.”
Zhang Chao said that through years of practising natural farming, he had come to understand not only nature but also society. The “ecological chain” is a series of interlocking links evolving in synergy; a change in one link can disturb or even transform the entire system.
We returned to the tea table. Through the four seasons in a cup, we tasted a decade of the tea mountain’s history, and spoke of how a “small bud” could disrupt the “great tea industry”. But that is a story for another time, to be continued in the next piece.
[2] “Xinyang Historical and Cultural Series: Tea Volume”
[3] Huang Daopei, Lyu Lizhe, Wei Hui (Tea Experiment Station of Xinyang Region, Henan Province 464100). “Research Report on the Selection and Breeding of the New Tea Cultivar ‘Xinyang No. 10′”, Journal of Tea 1994, 20(3): 8–11
[4] Lu Yiyan (Xinyang Tea Meteorological Key Laboratory, Xinyang Meteorological Bureau, Xinyang, Henan 464000). “Analysis of the Characteristics of Climate Resource Changes in Xinyang and Their Impact on the Yield of Xinyang Maojian Tea“, China Tea, January 2024, Vol. 46, No. 1
[5] Wang Qingzhi, Zhai Shumei, Kong Qian. “Characteristics of Disastrous Climate in Tea Production in the Yanhe District of Xinyang and Response Strategies”, China Agricultural Technology Extension 2020, Vol. 36, No. 1
Acknowledgements
Zhang Chao, De Yi Tea Garden
First TBB Community Architecture & Culture Season Working Group
Zhao Min, Wang Hao, Yan Fangfang, Li Guanqi
Aerial Photography
Xiaoshu, Zhang Xin
Unless otherwise noted, all other illustrations were taken by the author
Editor: Ze En