9 August 2010

Part I

Monday morning started off bright and early. Actually, when my alarm clock first went off, the sun had yet to come up. It’s overcast, cool, and rainy this morning.

The repairman was supposed to be here at six, but he’s yet to show (it’s 7:30 as I write this). Tim showed me around the orchard this morning, and my first job everyday will be to walk down the lines of peach trees, which are bearing fruit right now, and collect the “seconds”—the peaches that have fallen to the ground overnight. These will be sold to those who are going to be making jams and jellies with the fruit they purchase from us.

After looking around and learning where everything was, I spent the next hour in the cider house stamping five hundred quart peach cartons with the words “5 Star Nursery & Orchard.” The early morning drizzle has picked up to a soft, steady rain, so I’m back in my apartment for an hour or so.

Part II

It’s been a busy day so far, even though it’s only early afternoon. The rain has cleared, and the sun is still attempting to burn off the clouds. I just got back to my apartment after lunch. When Leslie gets back from town, I’ll help her make dill pickles, but right now I’m just sitting at my kitchen table resting.

I had tofu for the first time today. I expected to have to muscle my way past the gag reflex, but it actually wasn’t too bad. Still, I don’t see myself whipping up tofu for dinner anytime soon.

The repairman never showed, so I think we’ve given up on him for the moment. I’m debating whether I want to face an icy shower tonight or not. I probably should… So far today I’ve labeled the peach cartons; collected the peaches that fell during the night; set up the signs at the end of the drive announcing that we have peaches for sale; set up the table of peaches to sale on Tim and Leslie’s front porch; chopped down a small oak, pine, and spruce tree; shoveled gravel and dirt to make the transition from the road to the driveway smoother; scrubbed the walls and door of the walk-in refrigerator in the cider house with Clorox; hauled lumber down to the end of the orchard and stacked it neatly in the wood pile; and picked peas and cucumbers. I’m exhausted already, but it’s a good kind of tired.

Peaceful—if I could think of one word to describe this place, that would be it. This morning as I was working in the orchard the only sound was the soft squelch of my Wellies as I duck-walked under the trees collecting the night’s bounty, the quiet patter of rain on the leaves overhead, the gentle sigh of the wind as it sifted through the woods around the orchard, and the laughter of crows. I couldn’t quite hear the lap of the sea against the rocks just beyond the stand of pines and oaks at the end of the orchard, but I could imagine it.

To someone who has made avoiding social situations an art, who always finds the quiet and empty corner in a roomful of people, who cringes at the very thought of being in a pressing crowd, this is a little slice of paradise.

the seaside at the end of the orchard

the strip of shore at the end of the orchard