I'm crossing the yard with slow measured steps; back and forth, back and forth, my eyes cast down. The mornings have been chilly and the grass is cool on my bare feet here in the shade of the pecan trees. My feet are bare because sometimes they see better than my eyes do. The steps that take me into the sun are most welcome because my wardrobe has not caught up with the change of the season and I am dressed for summer. Hard to believe that as recent as week before last I was hugging the shade, doing my best to stay out of the sun.
I've been doing this walk for weeks now, a month, more. Today though, I am carrying two buckets. During the past few days I've been picking up some ripe pecans. These have fallen out of their husks instead of having fallen green and dried out. They are noticeably heavier and land in the bucket with a satisfying thunk. I carry one in the palm of my free hand using it to test ones that I am uncertain of. The bad ones crush at the least pressure. They go in the other bucket, nearly full after two days. I had been picking up two buckets full every day. Still, there seems to be quite a few pecans up in the trees so I'm more hopeful of getting some good ones this year.
Pecans are a lot of work and have a high cost in time and effort. All these days of picking up the bad ones aside, the good nuts still have to be gathered over a period of weeks. They have to be cracked and shelled for storing. Last year I took 40 pounds of nuts to the cracker and then every night for about 4 weeks, I shelled nuts. How much easier it would be to just buy them.
But here on the ground is food. I think about all this as I walk. There is something compelling about gathering. A sort of connection with the past, participating in an activity that humans have engaged in from the beginning though I know I won't perish if I don't gather enough to see me through the winter. A comforting thought.
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