We are in our fourth week harvesting pecans. The small Giles
and Major trees in the back yard have just about finished dropping fruit. The
big Stewart tree in the front is losing leaves, but there are plenty of pods
visible to the naked eye. Info from Pecans 101: In the big orchards they use a
machine that walks up to the tree, locks onto the trunk, and the tree is shaken
to encourage it to drop fruit.
We have cold, rainy weather on its way Tuesday. I told Ramon
we needed to figure a way to get the pecans down before weather moved in. He
said to me, “It won’t hurt them to get cold and wet on the tree.” NO DUH. My
reply? (Insert sarcastic tone here.) “I know the pecans grow on trees, trees
grow outside, and it rains outside. I’m the one who doesn’t want to be out in
the cold rain picking up pecans!”
His bright idea was to get a choker and a shackle, tie it to
the tree and connect the system to the trailer hitch on the truck, pull forward
and back a few times to emulate shaking the tree. Mind you, the equipment he
referred to is used to lift large items with large cranes on construction
sites. Slight overkill. We got connected, the truck was put in gear, the straps
pulled tight. The truck groaned. The tree leaned – a little. I was under the front
porch holding a bucket. I yelled, “You’re not shaking it enough.” He backed up
and started again. He was a bit more successful pulling the tree a little
further, but we noticed that when he backed up, the strap slackened and the
tree snapped back into place.
Okay, so how many of you have figured out what transpired
next? If you didn’t, go back home and ask your parents to explain the birds and
the bees to you again. You were obviously left behind somewhere.
I LEFT the safety of the porch. I stood at the rear quarter panel
of the truck. His window was down as I relayed the closing distance to the tree, “Six feet, four feet, two
feet, one foot, six inches. . . easy. . .” bump
The giant Stewart pecans were raining down on my pea picking
little brain, striking me on the cheekbones and forehead. . . CUZ I WUZ LOOKIN
UP LIKE A DANG FOOL!!! I was ducking and trying to run. What did Ramon do? He
backed up and whacked it twice more. He paid no attention as I danced in the
storm of golf ball sized hail. I didn’t want to risk breaking my glasses, so I
just crouched down for protection and took the beating.
We picked up pecans for over forty minutes. I had to call it
quits when the mosquitoes sent the message to the rest of their colony that the
pale, white lady was being served for dinner. We will be back out there
tomorrow and the next day, weather permitting. And there are still pods on the
tree.
I am certain the whole world traveling on Massey Tompkins
watched the little byplay. I am sure someone was on a cell phone and their
conversation went something like, “On my way home. Milk, eggs, check. Hey, I
just saw two old people in their front yard. The old man was backing into a
tree and the lady was dancing around all crazy in the yard.” On top of that, it
hadn’t dawned on me that the commuters have had plenty of opportunity to view
my rear end in the course of this harvest season and probably know what brand
of bra I wear. Sigh. Why do I not think of these things sooner? Next year I
will have a better plan to avoid a Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction.
