Cherry season on the farm was always an “event”.
There are varying seasons and paces on the farm, but when the tart cherries were ripe, they had to be harvested and that needed to happen quickly. It would become an “all hands on deck” sort of thing.
My father told us the story about how our family first started shaking cherries (mechanical harvesting.) Farming can be a very frustrating business with all the worries about good and bad crops, spring freezes and wind and bird damages. It was a year in the early sixties when they had a bumper crop of cherries. The conditions had been just right and the trees were loaded with cherries. That should have been a good thing, but it turned out to be a crisis.
Fruit is a commodity. The price is regulated by supply and demand. In that year the supply was great, but the demand would remain the same. This meant that the price for the cherries plummeted. The people who worked hand picking the cherries would still expect to be paid the same fair wages. But the cannery buying the cherries was paying less per unit of cherries than what the going wage was to pick them. It was an untenable situation.
What could they do?
They had beautiful cherries on the trees that needed to be harvested. At the same time they could not afford to pay the workers more to pick the cherries than they would get paid for them.
That day my grandfather bought a mechanical harvester, and they learned to
“shake” cherries.[1]
The process was and is as follows:
- Set up canvas covered frames around the tree.
- Reach a mechanical arm with a claw on the end out to grab the major limbs of the tree (or on more modern types, grab the trunk of the tree.)
- The arm has a reciprocating device driven by hydraulics that moves the arm rapidly back and forth and by so doing shakes the limb.
- The cherries fly through the air and then are caught by the canvas frames when they fall.
- The cherries funnel down the frames into containers (lugs).
- Carry the lugs and pour the cherries into a tank of cold water. By cooling them the cherries retain their shape and are not crushed.
- Pick up the frames and carry them to the next tree and start the process over gain.
By the time I was working on the farm the process had improved a lot. The frames were now built into the harvester (we called it the cherry shaker.) For our machine, cherry shaker was in two parts and needed two separate drivers. Each end had a shaker arm and together the two drivers would connect the sections into a whole and shake the cherries. The cherries would funnel from the frames onto a mechanical conveyer belt that would carry the cherries to where another one of us had driven a forklift to position the tank of cold water beside the cherry shaker.
We could move quickly from tree to tree, moving all the elements forward each time. One person operated one half of the cherry shaker. Another operated the other half. Another person drove the forklift. And often one more of us would drive the full tanks to the “well” where the tanks would have cool water run through them to keep the cherries cold.
Sometimes the weight of the cherries would be so much that limbs would break off under the weight. These limbs would have to be cut away and pulled aside so that we could get the cherry shaker under the tree. As children, one of our jobs was to pick the cherries off the downed limbs. As the youngest I was never very fast at this, but my older brothers and sisters could earn a good amount of extra spending money doing this manual job.
As I grew older, I became adept at driving the forklift (we called it the lift fork). Once my dad or brother had positioned his side of the cherry shaker around the tree I would need to carefully guide the cherry tank under the conveyer and guide the tank so that it pushed against a metal arm that would turn on the conveyer so that it would empty the cherries into the tank. As they moved to the next tree I would back away, wait for the shaker to be in position again and then pull forward. When the tank was full, I would put a cover on the tank, load it on the truck, and go get another empty tank (with water in it) and keep the process going.
The breakdown:
The cherry shaker had a lot of moving parts. Mechanical break downs were common, and my father and grandfather always had boxes of tools with them. One of the hallmarks of living on a farm is a component of mechanical ability and independence. It seemed like they could fix anything. The conveyer had metal slats, and it would be fairly common that a stray twig or branch might get caught and bend one of the metal slats. When we would see this, we would pull the tank away from the shaker to stop the conveyer. Using a wrench we would remove the two bolts that held the slat in place and put a new slat on.
Other times we would have a more significant break down. Sometimes those would be a welcome break in the work. While my father worked on the repair it would give us a chance to sit down and relax or goof around. If the repair required parts, it might even give us an hour or two off while someone (often my older brother) would drive to the farm supply place to get the parts needed for the repair.
One year we had a major mechanical failure early in the season. The necessary part was not going to be available for several days. The cherries were not going to wait, however.
My grandfather and father talked through options. Ultimately, they remembered the old cherry shaker (the first one they had bought many years ago). The old version would bolt to the front of one of our tractors and that was how you would move the shaker from tree to tree. The canvas frames however had to be carried by hand from tree to tree.
We all left the orchard and in short order returned and assembled the equipment in the orchard. I watched and learned the process as we carried the frames (one of us on each side) up to the tree (one frame on each side). We carried big plastic lugs and put them under the frames. We then drove the tractor in position. My father then would operate the shaker. We would then need to empty the lugs into the cherry tank, move the frames, drive the tractor forward and do the process again.
It was a lot of manual labor. By then I was a teen and was stronger. I was no longer just the youngest child that struggled to keep up picking the cherries from the downed limbs. I was a part of the main crew. I ran and positioned myself to move one side of the frame. When I did so I was standing on the side by the other frame and could grab it also and move it forward. I could then run and grab the lugs and get them positioned in place.
It was a LOT of movement and a lot of running around and lifting.
But it felt good.
It is interesting now in my memory to remember those days. I had a young body that could really do things. It felt good to push my body. It gave me a sense of pride inside when I could do a large portion of the work that needed to be done. I was not just a child. I had become a valuable worker in the process.
By noon that first day I was tired. I remember nodding off on the sofa when we went home for lunch. But in the afternoon, I was back, running back and forth, lifting and carrying and my body rewarded me with the ability to do it over and over and over again without stopping.
It seemed to me that the more I did it the more I pushed myself. I maybe didn’t need to do as much (or as many elements) of the job that I was doing but I had a young body that could do it and it felt good to do it both physically and mentally.
The strength and energy of youth:
I have an idea that pops into my head sometimes: I am young. I am out in an open field where I can just run and run and run at full speed and feel-good doing so. It is a memory of a body that has so much energy that it has plenty to spare.
I look at children sometimes as they bop around with nervous energy climbing up and around and never stop moving.
It is a wonder.
I think one of the amazing parts of our world is the vitality and strength of youth. Children can fall and they bounce and not get hurt. They can run and leap and move and everything just works.
We are fearfully and wonderfully made.
The seasons of life:
I am a much different person than the young man who ran around the cherry orchard that year when the regular cherry shaker broke down. Sometimes I envy the young. I would love to have that feeling back about being able to do anything I wanted. Instead I often give the “old man grunt” getting up from a chair. I don’t bounce anymore. I move deliberately.
But it is okay. We each have our season, and each season has its own joys and struggles. It does me no good to wish for what I don’t have. I can enjoy what this season looks like, but at the same time muse and enjoy the vitality that I see in the young around me.
As my grandfather aged, he went from a strong man doing everything to a man who worked but moved more slowly. I could see my father and my older brothers helping more and more. He still came to the orchards but moved slowly and didn’t push himself to do the heavy stuff. In my mind is an image of a time picking plums. He was still there with the picking bag on doing his share. But at one point I looked and saw him sitting against the ladder resting. Time was pulling at him.
I was proud of how much my Dad could do. In apple season I remember seeing him pick up two stacked crates of apples and then lift both of them over his head. He did this so that he could get the stack one level higher than he could reach. A bushel crate of apples weights around 45 pounds. That was in essence lifting and pushing 90 pounds over his head. He lifted them because he could and so my grandfather didn’t need to do so.
In cherry season he would be up early making us breakfast and getting all of his crew (my brothers and I) out to the orchard. He was always there running one half of the shaker and watching all of us to make sure things were going smoothly.
He could do anything.
And then he too aged. Age, cancer and the treatments for the cancer pulled at his body and made him tired. We all knew that he would be the happiest if he could be out in the fields and orchards working. Instead he had to accept sitting at home. He did it not because he really wanted to but because he knew that just being alive there was important to the rest of us.
Shortly after we were married, Sarah’s parents went with us to help us move into our new apartment. I had heard that it was smart to get an upper floor apartment because then you would have less risk of noise (no one above you). It didn’t seem like such a great idea when it came time to move in! The upper floor meant that we had to carry all of our things (our beds, dressers, sofa, table, chairs, and my heavy slate top desk) up a flight of stairs. We also had boxes of books. Mine were mostly medical but Sarah had a great collection of novels and mysteries and other types of books.
I wonder what my father-in-law thought about my great idea to get an upper floor apartment! As we started to unload the rental truck, I set a goal for myself that I would do two trips for every one trip that Sarah’s father made. I did this to protect him but also because I could. My young body could stoop and lift and climb and carry and then spring back down the stairs for another load. I was tired at the end of the day, but I was fine.
More recently, we were moving some boxes with JJ and Sam. Sam would pick up two boxes stacked to each one that I carried. I would pause and lean against the car and rest between loads as Sam zipped back and forth. As I rested my mind raced back to the plum orchard and my grandfather sitting on the step of the ladder. It went to my father heaving heavy apple crates above his head and then his decline. And it went to a time 30 years before moving into a 2nd floor apartment in Virginia.
Glimpses of heaven:
In “The Last Battle” C.S. Lewis gives a great depiction of heaven. Peter, Lucy, Edmund and others see broad green areas. They along with scores of beloved friends and family are encouraged to run, “further up and farther in.” They run with joy discovering more and more wonders, always moving and running.
It is that same feeling of youth.
It captures the idea of excitement and energy that makes you want to just jump and run and move. “Further up and farther in!”
What am I saying?
- We are wonderful and amazing creations. As I age, I appreciate the strength and energy of youth more and more. Sometimes I think I should tell the young, “Enjoy your strength and flexibility and energy!” but to do so would make me sound so old and honestly, I don’t think it would change anything for them. It wouldn’t have made a difference if someone had said it to me (and I think people did) when I was young. Instead, I choose to just look and enjoy watching the young and their energy. I marvel at God’s creation and how new life keeps coming in wonderful and vital ways.
- Everyone has their seasons. I too had the years of being able to run around and do things for those older than me. I could “run the world” and enjoyed doing it. I had my chance and time. Like a rider getting out of my seat on my favorite roller coaster, I free up the space for those who climb into the seat after me. It is their turn now. Don’t get me wrong, I do still have strength and energy. There are still things that I can do to help those around me including those older and more frail. I can enjoy the life that I have even as I acknowledge the bounce that I don’t have.
- When I reach the end of a day with muscles aching and fatigue pulling me to the easy chair, I think about “further up and farther in.” I picture the big hill behind my parent’s house and imagine it covered in green grass and how much fun it would be to just run and run without stopping not because I have to but just because I have the energy to do so. I can imagine the joys of heaven and what it will be like for all of us to feel young and strong again. I look at the young and my faith is strengthened. God has made a wonderful creation and even though it is now fallen, He has plans for me that are worth looking forward to.
I have thought back to that cherry season when we had to carry the frames by hand. I remember pushing myself to run and carry the frames and to do so much work. At the time I didn’t know why I was pushing myself. I understand better now. I did it because I could. I did it because to use the youth and strength God has given is a wonder and a joy.
Regardless of the season we are in, life is a gift and God wants us to enjoy the good gifts he has given.
And if you feel tired, join me in reading this passage from C.S. Lewis’ “The Last Battle” and marvel at the wonders that are in store for us in the future. In this passage they have their first glimpses and experiences of the “new Narnia”:
It is as hard to explain how this sunlit land was different from the old Narnia as it would be to tell you how the fruits of that country taste. Perhaps you will get some idea of it if you think like this. You may have been in a room in which there was a window that looked out on a lovely bay of the sea or a green valley that wound away among mountains. And in the wall of that room opposite to the window there may have been a looking-glass. And as you turned away from the window you suddenly caught sight of that sea or that valley, all over again, in the looking glass. And the sea in the mirror, or the valley in the mirror, were in one sense just the same as the real ones: yet at the same time they were somehow different — deeper, more wonderful, more like places in a story: in a story you have never heard but very much want to know. The difference between the old Narnia and the new Narnia was like that. The new one was a deeper country: every rock and flower and blade of grass looked as if it meant more. I can’t describe it any better than that: if ever you get there you will know what I mean.
It was the Unicorn who summed up what everyone was feeling. He stamped his right fore-hoof on the ground and neighed, and then he cried:
“I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that is sometimes looked a little like this. Bree-hee-hee! Come further up, come further in!”
He shook his mane and sprang forward into a great gallop — a Unicorn’s gallop, which, in our world, would have carried him out of sight in a few moments. But now a most strange thing happened. Everyone else began to run, and they found, to their astonishment, that they could keep up with him: not only the Dogs and the humans but even fat little Puzzle and short-legged Poggin the Dwarf. The air flew in their faces as if they were driving fast in a car without a windscreen. The country flew past as if they were seeing it from the windows of an express train. Faster and faster they raced, but no one got hot or tired or out of breath.[2]
[1] https://www.gasenginemagazine.com/tractors/friday-tractor/
[2] C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle, HarperTrophy, 2000, pp. 195-197.
