The
church has a pear orchard in Medford, Oregon.
Each year the church donates the pears to the food bank and those on
welfare (see here) The
Roseburg stake (church boundary that I belong to) has asked its members to pick
pears at least once a year. Our assigned
day is usually the third Saturday in August.
This is the fifth year that we (our family) have gone to pick pears for
a service project.
Each year we have tried to stay for
more than a couple of hours. Each year
our health has prevented either Roland or I from wanting to continue. The last two years were so filled with smoke,
it was hard to breathe. Last year I had
filled my bag only half way before I’d make the long trek to the pear bin.
I used to be in better shape. I vaguely remember telling a couple that I
would watch their kids if she would like to go and didn’t think about it again
until Friday night. Oops!
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| taken last year |
My back was bothering me earlier on
Friday morning. I decided that I wouldn’t
even wear a pear bag but just place my pears in either Roland’s or Jenna’s bag
or perhaps even the missionaries who we had taken with us (and fed them as
well). But Roland made it known that I was having back problems and I was
assigned to do another job that was perhaps as equally important but I felt
useless in my position.
Volunteers were asked to stay on one
side of the orchard and continue their climb until they were directed to turn,
but volunteers were turning before they crossed the creek – which is where they
put me – so I could direct people.
Trouble was that by the time they put me there, there were less
volunteers checking in at the bottom and so I really didn’t have much to do
except for sit there. Yes. They let me sit. So that was a plus. But I also really did wish to help pick
pears.
I figured the van could pick up
passengers and drop them off and make its way around the orchard in just five
minutes. But it no longer came as often
nor held as many passengers. I think it
passed me only five or six times before Roland and Jenna found me. I did see the tractor with fork lifts on each
end with the ability to lift two bins.
Odd. I remember the tractor
dragging a larger number of bins than just two.
I saw something similar to this my first two years:
 |
| not actual, but you get the gist |
This is what I saw this year:
 |
| not actual, but you get the gist |
We had left the house at four in the
morning and I’m not fully awake at that time.
I did not have a jacket or a hat that would cover my ears. Roland had asked if I needed my glasses, but
I’d be wearing sunglasses and not reading.
Right next to my glasses was my watch.
I wish I would have grabbed it.
I was dressed for the heat and
was cold and did not know where I was direction wise (I knew the location of
east, north, west and south when I was living in Salt Lake, but have lost that
since being in Oregon) and did not know which way was east. Apparently behind me. I saw the shadows move and purposely moved my
chair into the sun (which is rare. I am
usually always looking for shade.)
I had a beautiful view. I looked at the moon which appeared like a perfectly circled cloud – slowly it faded into the background until it
disappeared.
 |
The sky was never blue like the middle indicates;
the moon looked pretty much like in the middle
but kept on fading as the morning light shone. |
My view reminded me a lot of
seeing Salt Lake City from one mountain range to another – except for the
foreground. It was quiet. It was pretty. The sky was blue. It wasn’t blue the last two years we had
gone. I had no idea how close the pear
orchard is to the airport or to the temple, but could make out both in the
distance.
 |
| my view from the red dot |
I think I heard the airplanes before I saw any of them. I would watch
a few of them as they headed west or northwest.
I would watch until they disappeared.
I didn’t see any from the south at all, but I could hear them. I saw a
few seem increase in size as they made their way toward landing.
Aside from counting planes, I
counted ground squirrels after I noticed some movement across the creek.
I also saw a confused bee frustrated at not
finding pollen in the grass. I hoped the
orange vest I was wearing wouldn’t somehow attract the bee.
