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Walnuts

Walnuts

Black walnut season has arrived on our gravel road. Every time a car drives over one of the round green fruits, there’s a peculiar pop, like the popping of a giant paper bag. When I’m in the car the pop is beneath me, and I jump a little, wondering if I’ve lost a tire.

This morning was so beautiful, the sky so blue that I thought up excuses to stay outside. The best excuse was to pick up walnuts. Good exercise, I thought. Get rid of the mess. And since someone in our church is collecting walnuts to sell, with all the proceeds going to our building fund, I could get my good deed for the day done before mid-morning.

The idea of all that multi-tasking had me so pumped I borrowed extra five gallon buckets from the neighbors. I filled six of them before I noticed my back and my legs were getting a little sore. By tomorrow morning, after a good night’s stiffening sleep, I’m thinking they’ll be a lot sore.

Still the extra time outdoors was worth it, and I was slow to hike up the driveway and into the house when I was done. I looked back at the walnut tree near the end of our driveway. Its leaves are gone and its limbs are black against an intense October sky. And there are plenty of walnuts hanging there, waiting for stiff winds and cold nights to shake them to the ground.

I have a feeling I’ll be out here again, I thought as I walked to the house. But will there ever be another morning as beautiful as today? I opened the door and forced myself to walk inside.