Franklin County, Nebraska

For Another Day

My calendar tells me that its chokecherry picking time in Franklin County.

Earlier this week, I had already chosen my sister-in-law, Ruth Turner, to be the one who would accompany me on this once-a-year jaunt. You might be thinking, “Chosen to pick chokecherries?” Maybe you think chokecherry picking day sounds like work? Well, it lots of work, and you can expect to be very tired when the day is done, but it is a “good” tired.

I have spent this day through the past years with many people: Duane’s mother, Verna Donovan; my sister, Sue Walker; my friends, Terri Bach, Donna Rae Greening, Delores Johnson and Jonquil Volk. Sometimes I even pick alone. Be it alone or with someone, that day always turns into “a day to be remembered.”

On this past Thursday, Ruth and I got up early in the morning. We started the rising hour right with hot coffee and then heard on the local farm radio station it was 73 degrees. We were soon out of the door with our buckets. But first, let me tell you of the dress code for this occasion: before putting on any clothes apply bug spray to all parts of your body, head to toe; then it’s jeans, undershirt, long sleeve shirt buttoned at neck and wrists, socks, tennis shoes or boots for surefootedness, and a person needs long socks, so you can tuck your jean legs down inside of the socks. Then, its more bug spray over the outside of all these clothes. Cover the top of your head with a ball cap to keep the sun off your head and face. When you are done picking, and the very minute you walk back into the house, go directly and take a cleansing bath. I learned the hard way what it is to have chigger bites all over my body. Now I am prepared for the adventure of chokecherry picking. Oh yes, let me add, too, of you require lots of liquid you might want to take a bottle of water with you.

I have learned by experience an ice cream bucket works best to put your handful of chokecherries in, because you can hang it on your arm. It’s probably wishful thinking to take along a five-gallon bucket to damp into. Anyway, you will need a somewhat larger bucket to hold the excess. Be sure and often dump your little container in case of falling and loosing what you have already picked.

Also, if you check the ground you will see at least half a bucket of chokecherries down there, Its Gods way of feeding the rabbits and other rodents. Ruth and I had such a wonderful time picking the fruit. We have been friends since we were teenagers. We talked and laughed and settled all the world’s problems and some of our own. It’s a wonderful way to spend a summer morning. Ruth was sure she heard the birds saying, “They are taking all the chokecherries in the draw.” We promised to leave some for them and told them so. First we picked the north draw on our farm, because they grow lush and tall on the side hill. It is also the hardest place to pick. When it comes to dong things like this, my motto is: “Do the worst job, first.”

Then we walked back across the highway on the south side, to the easiest bush to pick. That little bush had the biggest and best chokecherries. I suppose when we get a new highway going past our house in the next few years, my best bush will be a part of the rubbish the construction company will put in a pile. Do you possibly think if I ask very nicely, the road crew would work around my chokecherry bush? In that best chokecherry patch, Ruth and I each went out separate ways. I went around to the south part of the bush and was ready to reach in; when I laid my eyes on the ugliest caterpillar I have ever seen. I despise worms and snakes (story for another day), but will walk among the spiders, wasps and bees. After yelling and running about ten foot away, I slowly returned to look at this gross-looking sight from a distance. This caterpillar was like no species I had ever seen before. It resembled a tomato worm, just about as big and it was basically green. But on its back were large knobs of different colors, like neon colors of orange, blue and red. It captivated my attention, and the more I looked, it didn’t mind that I thought it was repulsive, for it knew its destiny. I am sure in its cocoon stage it will exchange those unsightly bumps for gorgeous colored butterfly wings. “Ruth, come see this! Look at these colors. You gotta see this!” I said. As we watched it eat so fast on the chokeberry bush leaves, we didn’t get too close to the neon worm, lest our human breath or hands contain germs that might hinder someone else from viewing it, in its enchanting butterfly stage. We wished we had a camera to catch this once in a lifetime sight. But we decided it was there, for only us to see, because we picked this hour to be in Mothers Nature’s garden.

I noticed people driving by seemed to know what we were doing as we picked our chokecherries along the highway. Some honked their car horns to say “hi.” I caught sight of a woman in a white car and she was smiling. I wonder if it was because we looked so awful in our manner of dress, or was it because she wished they had time to stop and be with us, or maybe it was because we were doing such an old fashioned thing.

I also wondered if I could buy chokecherry jelly? Would I still adorn such clothes and brave the hot sun on a July day for this sour fruit? Today, we enjoyed a nice breeze that helped cool this warm humid day. Chokecherry picking day is sometimes the hottest day of the year, and it’s not unusual by 10:00 a.m. to be ready to give up the quest.

We picked till we heard the noon whistle at Bloomington. We picked and picked ‘til only a few were left for the birds. Then we carefully took our treasure home so not to spill a chokecherry. We spent the afternoon canning the juice. This was the easiest part except for the burgundy-colored mess all over the kitchen. We conversed about “this and that” and the fact that chokecherries might be therapeutic. Why not? They already know about the healing powers of grapes, cranberries, blueberries and elderberries. We might be eating one of the most potent of all the natural healing agents. From our larger container we had eight quarts of good strong precious juice sitting on the kitchen counter. Of course, I let them sit at least a week in plain view, as proof of my canning ability.

I don’t know anyone who isn’t happy upon receiving a jar of homemade chokecherry jelly, for anyone who had made it knows the effort that goes into it and of its importance. In our family, from the youngest child to the oldest grandma, they all love it and when they enter the house it’s the famous jelly they want. There is a house in Wisconsin that I dare not go with out some jars of jelly in the trunk. I don’t know if they enjoy our company or just the jelly we bring? This juice is like gold, i.e.: there are only so many quarts allowed by God’s grace each year, and when its gone, it’s really gone. So…. if I send you a jar home, you know you are special to me.

On a cold snowy blowy day in the winter, my mind returns to the memories of a hot mid-summer day in July, simply by getting out a jar of canned juice, lots of sweet sugar and my special heavy pan given to me by my mom, and I make six little jars of delightful chokecherry jelly. Again I wonder did the Lord know that in 1999 we would swipe these chokecherries He intended for the animals of the wild and use them to produce such a delicacy, with a unique taste like no other to the tongue. Did the Lord know we sometimes need to find the beauty in an ugly worm to see the delayed beauty of His wonderful world? He must have! The good Lord walks with us and creates miracles. Look what He did with this day.

So, if you want to get on the “chosen” list to pick chokecherries on a day in July when they are perfectly purple, call me and I will consider who is next. But don’t forget: you will have to leave all vanity at home and you will have to look like a bee robber, you will sweat, get a chigger bite or two, but you won’t need a wallet, for there is no price on this product, it is a gree gift from God for the effort given. I’ll tell you, its an honor to be “chosen,” and, one way ot the other, it’s a day you won’t forget.

“One can not do the world’s work;
But one can do one’s work.
You may not be able to turn the world from iniquity;
But you can at least keep the dust and rust from gathering on your own soul.”

Gail Hamilton

Rena Donovan, For Another Day.

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