After a hiatus of several years, the Hickory nut tree is producing again. I discovered the tree by accident when I wandered through the quaint cemetery down The road from my condo. It had shaggy bark just like my tree back home. When I felt the solid green orbs underfoot I Picked them up and stuffed them Into my pockets. And now each day I stop by to gather a Few more before the squirrels squirrel them All away. It takes lots of work to get enough for the Famous cake Mom used to make, the first to Be eaten at church potlucks. Many of the nuts are dried up or wormy, and Getting to the meat takes skill. After the husks have fallen off, I position the Nuts, one at a time on Jack's anvil so I can Strike them with my small hammer. The shells fly around the garage waiting for me To sweep them up later. I try to find the sweet spot so I can get the Meat out intact, a process I learned from My brothers. I didn't enjoy the tedious work as a youngster, but Now I do. I love every part of the experience, Searching for the nuts, Cracking them open, Digging out the meat with one of Mom's old Nut picks. The nostolgia overtakes me. Gathering nuts is my introduction to fall. As I work I nibble, reminding myself that I need just enough nuts for a cake and a few Extra to squirrel away. |
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Dorothy Kalb Hsu Seitzinger
Writing poetry has helped me process and express my sorrows and joys, my concerns and blessings. "Life is hard, but God is good!" Archives
December 2020
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