COPYRIGHT 1991

CHAPTER 2

THE ORCHARD

 

Crouching behind the tree, I checked my weapon. The German

Luger was newly acquired. The soldier from whom I had taken it

was now a prisoner.

Suddenly I stiffened perfunctorily, listened, and dropped

into the tall grass. Someone was approaching. I hitched a weary

eye around the bowl of the tree and spied the German uniform

through the trees. Collapsing into the cover of the thick grass,

I mentally prepared for the oncoming danger. Squeezing the gun

firmly in my hand and feeling the cold steel against my flesh

heightened my confidence. Crickets chirped loudly, the smell of

grass was pungent, and mosquitoes hummed in my ears. "There

too noisy," I thought, "they'll give my position away. A

grasshopper sprang, landing on my head. I remained frozen. The

thud of heavy boots grew closer. I was five feet from the path.

The grass was so tall, I was sure I could not be seen even if

someone stood almost directly over me. I was covered with brush;

branches of leafy growth tied to my body for additional

camouflage.

He was close; very close, now. My heart stopped beating,

blood ceased, adrenalin pumped, and I held my breath. My ears

filtered out all external sound; locking on the thumping of those

German boots. The shadowy figured passed before me like a pale

ghost in a strange dream. I tensed. I counted his steps as they

moved away. One, two, three. I rose stealthily and silently

closed the gap between us. I was on him in a second; my gun

grinding into his back and my arm encircling his neck like a

cowboy's lariat. He stumbled, dropping his riffle, The tall grass

instantly swallowing it away. We both stood motionless for

seconds; frozen in time, are breathing rasping loudly in the

stillness of the orchard. "He's an officer," I thought. "That's

hard to believe. Well, all in a days work." Spinning him about,

I marched him down the path the way he had come. Pushing him away

roughly, I commanded him to raise his hands. He obeyed.

As he walked several steps ahead, I held the Luger up again

for inspection. The lose end of the caps trailed out from beneath

the hammer. I tore off the excess and snapped open the chamber.

I had plenty of caps left, I decided, the roll being full. It was

fun playing war in the orchard. "You guys lost," I boasted to my

prisoner ahead. "Let's divide up sides again and see who wins the

next game."

"Ok," he agreed lowering his hands, "but this time we get the

fort."

The orchard behind my house was a perfect play ground. The

two acres or so of land was never tended, thus the grass grew

uncontrollably and was always nearly waist deep. Grasshoppers,

crickets, mosquitoes, flies, bumblebees, rabbits, birds, ants,

snakes, squirrels, worms, spiders, centipedes, gnats, chiggers,

lady bugs, beatles, butterflies, lightning bugs, fleas, and just

about anything else one could think of lived in the orchard.

The trees were friends. Tree houses were built in them.

Forts constructed under them. Branches served as chinning bars.

Hours were spent just climbing and swinging from one to the

other. Of course, there were always the apples. We ate them

green, red, or yellow. We hunted the largest and ripest ones. We

even made use of the rotten ones fallen from the branches in war

games. [Hand grenades].

Paths had been carved from our frequent trips to various

parts of the orchard. Bikes were sometimes ridden down the trails

where our camps were constructed. Sometimes cats and dogs of the

neighborhood came to chase us through the maze of trails. Hide-

and-go-seek was always a favorite and sometimes hours were spent

trying to catch rabbits which always somehow seemed to evade

capture.

Garden snakes were plentiful and we caught them by the

dozens, turning most lose, while making pets of others. One

summer we had a contest to see who in the neighborhood could catch

the most snakes. I captured over one hundred. Did we catch the

same one's? Possibly. The rule was, however, that a snake caught

had to be released in the opposite side of the orchard where snake

hunting was disallowed.

There were hills in the orchard, too, which provided hours of

"King On The Hill." Some of the hills were perched on the south

side of the orchard over looking black top which had been laid.

Christmas trees were sold on the paved lot during the winter and

sometimes house trailers and boats during the summer but mostly

the lot remained empty. The paved area provided a perfect

location for riding bikes, roller skating, shooting marbles,

bouncing balls, racing wind-up cars, and playing chicken. Often

we made up games such as riding our bikes as fast as possible,

jumping the pavement to plunge down the brushy hillside, only to

be plucked from our seats by the thick under growth. Other times

we just rode the pavement as though it were the Indy 500.

Somehow the thick clouds of mosquitoes, the biting chiggers,

and the grouchy wasps never seemed to be a problem in the orchard.

We learned to live together. Even the bier patch, where most of

the rabbits retreated during hunts, we left alone. They just

seemed to belong in the orchard as did we. We enjoyed the

walnuts, raspberries, mulberries, and apples which all grew

prolifically in and along the orchard boundaries.

Summer nights provided extra excitement in the orchard.

Flashlights furnished illumination for hide-and-go-seek

adventures. The eerie shadows of the trees heightened fear and

the flashing of the lightning bugs created tiny atomic explosions

in the darkness. the night time chirping of the crickets was

nearly deafening. Clouds of hungry mosquitoes floated densely

about the trees. Branches rustled ominously when stealthy

squirrels jumped to nearby branches.

My favorite time in the orchard was the blossoming of the

trees. The sudden burst of the red and white flowers as they

popped from the branches looked like a strange snow storm had

invaded the orchard at the wrong time of year. The pastel pinks,

reds, and whites fluttered like delicate butterflies among the

rustic branches. The aromatic fragrance of their scent was

intoxicating; hovering among the trees like oriental incense.

The silky peddles hung like earrings, their scent as feminine

perfume, as though a wedding had been recently announced. The

birds seemed happier to me during that time and the squirrels less

apt to fight among themselves over their cash of nuts. It

revealed newness and freshness and it prophesied of the coming

crop of apples which every kid in the neighborhood always looked

forward to with great anticipation.

The strangest experience I can recall in the orchard had to

do with birds. Thousands of starlings took over the orchard one

season as they apparently migrated. I am not suggesting there

were just a few but literally thousands. Every tree was blackened

by the birds as they perched on the branches. The chirping of

the birds was nearly unbearable. It was impossible, during the

few weeks the birds inhabited the orchard, to enter the area

without being soaked with bird droppings. It was even more

strange when they all took flight. The entire orchard was nearly

bear. It looked as though winter had set in. Branches were baron

of leaves, the trunks of trees and the ground all looked as though

someone had white washed with a giant paint brush.

The winters were just as productive in the orchard. The

hills became ski slopes, the trails toboggan runs, and the

pavement skating rinks. "King On The Hill" was just as fun in the

winter and there were no grass stains for moms to remove from

clothing. Beginning from the tree line, tiny balls of snow were

packed and rolled along the grown until the tall hills were

reached. Then pushing them from the hill top, they rolled,

enlarging as they did so, to the flat snow covered pavement below.

Snow men, snow forts, or snow houses could then be constructed.

Sleds, pieces of cardboard, enter tubes, and aluminum saucers all

were part of the winter hardware in the orchard.

This chapter would easily be considered a nonessential by

many, but I felt it important. The orchard still holds a place in

my thoughts all these years later. It's a get-a-way, it's my

hiding place. Often my thoughts return to that orchard and

although it was plowed under long ago to make room for a grocery

store, it lives vividly in my mind. I often walk those paths and

see the tree forts again. I can hear the squirrels chattering and

the birds arguing over tree ownership. I see a rabbit

occasionally dark from under cover and pop into the heart of the

thick sticker patch in the orchard's center. I can taste the

apples again. I ride my bike again and feel the hard pavement

beneath my spinning wheels. Although I am completely blind now, I

can see clearly every square inch of the orchard as though I were

actually there.

"So?"

I offer this description of the orchard to simply show how

pleasant how easy-going, how calm was my childhood. My life was

an average middle income American boys life. I rode bikes,

fished, roller skated, climbed trees, ate pop cycles, rode bikes,

glued model cars, shot bee-bee guns, rode bikes, caught snakes,

swam, collected ants, flew kites, climbed telephone poles, rode

bikes, built forts, and hated girls just like any other boy of

ten. The orchard was part of my Iowa heritage. I was fortunate

to have such a place of refuge as a child living in town. Many

today are unable to retreat to such a heritage in their adulthood.

I thank God for such a place of peace now.

This chapter is a suggestion. Is there an orchard in your life?

A place where things grow, things live, where birds sing, flowers

grow, and games are played? Is there a place of peace, a place of

rest, a place of peaceful coexistence? Can you walk there? Are

you free? If you are not born again, receive Christ as Lord and

Saviour now by confessing Him as Lord of your life. "If you

confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord, and believe in your heart

that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved." (Romans

10:9). If you are already born again, fellowship with God through

prayer. Ask Him for such a place in your life. As you learn to

worship God, discover the peace and joy it brings. Learn to rest

in God in spite of current circumstances, past failures, present

fears. Let Christ be your life. Feast on the fruit of eternal

presence with God the Creator. Make neighbors of God's people and

share perpetual fellowship with them. Know God, "And the peace of

God, which transcends all understanding, shall keep your hearts

and minds through Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:7).