Bumper Crop

 

We’ve had a bumper crop of pecans this year.  Some years are lean, some years are a bust, but this year the nuts keep dropping.  It’s a wonderful thing.  We’ve been gathering them in since early November.   The first couple of baskets we toted back to Farmville and commenced to cracking using my dad’s tried and true nutcracker.  It’s one of those cylinder types that you adjust to the nut size and then pull the handle down to make the connection.  It works great.  That connection cracks the nut and sends shell fragments to all corners of the room.  Then the real work begins where each nut has to be separated (their two lobes are attached) and gently scraped of any shell debris.  This is serious work because  random shell pieces make for a  bitter bite.  It’s tedious, if not mindless work.  So you can imagine how delighted we were to discover the “Crackin’ Man.”   This fella over in Tyner has this thingamajig that cracks pecans.  It goes twenty-four-seven this time of year.   It’s a wonder to behold.  After weighing your nuts (he charges per lb. before hulling) he dumps the bucket into the hopper and the mechanized chain driven action begins.   Each nut is pulled through the press and just the right amount of pressure is applied.  They come out the bottom and drop into a paper bag all ready to go.  You still have to do the cleaning up and picking out, but that goes pretty fast.  We had our 10 pounds cleaned, roasted and packaged up for gift giving in no time.  It’s a pure wonder.   Let ‘um keep dropping.

Christmas Season

 

Christmases creep up on me and go in a flash.  I was just easing into the season a week or so ago when our local arts center, AOA, put on its annual “Christmas on Main.”  Our band, Go Figure? opened with a blast of Sweet Home Chicago, followed by our own Mike Goodman (city editor) ragging out Midnight Hour (and playing the drums at the same time) and straight into Jingle Bell Rock.  We played to a sold-out auditorium for two performances and a good time was had by all.  Local folks were out for a taste of Christmas and the dancing Santas filled the bill two-fold.  Who doesn’t feel the earth move with 30 identical Santas jingling their bells and tapping their beards off in perfect synchronization?  They were awesome.  There were elves and fairies and a gospel choir.  It was pure small town local talent and a pure delight from start to finish.  Even the mayor got into the fun playing the most important role of all…..Santa Claus.  I have to say it surely pumped me up and got me into the spirit of the holiday.  All that clapping, singing and Ho-Ho-Ho’s will do it every time.  It’s just all over too fast. 

Christmas Tree Time

It’s time to get our Christmas tree.   It’s a custom in the Jackson household to find our tree….not among the dozens that line the grocery store sidewalks or even among the beautiful trees available at the nursery. That’s not what I’m talking about.  That would be just too easy.  Almost like cheating. 

No, we Jacksons take this tree stuff serious.   George’s job is to scout one out.  This process takes the better part of the year.  He’ll have one or two that he’s “watching” and keeping them in mind for the year they are ready.

Mind you, we don’t own any Christmas tree farm.  We prefer to poach.  That’s kin to stealing.  I tell you, it’s something to behold.  Once the tree has been spotted….often by boat sliding up some remote creek, we fortify ourselves with boots, gloves and chainsaw.  This “sting” has to be fast and as nonchalant as one can possibly pull off.  Very inconspicuous.  It’s not that easy dragging an 8 foot cedar tree down a ditch embankment on the Camden Causeway.  Most everybody headed to town for the day rides by….some folks wave.  I swear.

And we’ve brought home some real winners.  One year the sap “let down” after the tree was trimmed and the presents were under the tree with care.  Oh my.  Talk about a sticky mess. Then there was the time that thousands of baby spiders hatched out during the night while we were “all snuggled in our beds,” and we came down stairs to find webs crisscrossing the living room.  

 Some trees are huge (they didn’t look that tall in nature) some are small, sparse and pitiful, but once they get hauled in and gusseted up….they’re all perfect. 

A disclaimer:  All of our trees have been on public easements or buried in a vast woodland and are in danger of some kind or another….clinging to a ditch bank, fledging under another massive tree or something like that.  George says that Aldo Leopold would say, “George left the site better than he found it.”  I’m just saying.