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).