The Old Farm

Going out to the old farm where my grandparents live was the best treat ever. Especially when it was time to pick the fruit from their bountiful orchard of fruit trees. There were pear trees and plum trees, and apple trees, peach trees, and apricot trees. You could smell the ripeness from the fruit all the way from the road before even entering the farm. The sweet smell of ripe fruit is what I will always remember throughout my life.

Everything was picked, cleaned, and then canned for the year. Usually, we grandkids would take back home a box or two of granny's fresh canned fruit jam and fruit cocktail. I couldn't wait for the first batch to be made so that we can enjoy the freshness and that they were still warm. The best fruit jams and fruit salads were always from the grandparent's orchard outback from the farmhouse. The beautiful colors that the fruit trees would have later in the reason were amazing. They all were planted just perfect and they all have a different color, which made them that much more beautiful in the picking season. The pinks, purples, yellows. oranges, browns, and reds were planted just perfectly in rows. Took everyone a long time to plant and arrange which fruit tree would be best to grow next to the other fruit tree without having them try to kill each other off because they can't grow next to each other, so they have to be planted next to the fruit tree that is best to grow next to. Strange isn't it?

When it was time to pick, we all helped out for a few days and did most of the hard work instead of having the grandparents doing it. They were just too old to be carrying baskets of fruit to the fruit trailers to haul to the cold seller behind the farmhouse. It was like a secret doorway; we kids would pretend that behind that door was a dragon or a witch, and that's why it was built behind the farmhouse and the doorway was sticking out of the ground. Just like in the movies. The creepy old cellar door that would hide all the zombies or monsters, or anything that would give you nightmares about. It was just like that, but there were no monsters or zombies down there, just granny's yummy jams and fruit jars that were stored for the year and for us the grandkids.

Being a kid was the best in those days, and I will always remember that old farm until the day I die. I had brought my kids there before the accident and they kind of remember that old farm, but not as well. They do recall the fresh jam and all the times they had to work and that was a chore to them. They never really had to work like I did when I was their age. I was outside helping from dusk to dawn sometimes, making sure that we got all the fruit picked before the bugs and other creatures came out of the woodwork to clean out the orchard. We had at one time a lot of people that would sneak out to the orchard at night and pick what they could carry. They couldn't ride out there to the orchard, because they had to drive right by the house and that would wake up grandpa and he was not one to be woken in the middle of the night. He usually greeted others late at night with his shotgun and the old farm dog would be barking up a storm.

It was a lot to do when I was growing up. We didn't have a lot of machines like recently before the accident. My folks finally got a fruit picker and hired a few local kids to come out and help when there was nobody else around to give them a hand. I am very grateful for that, it would be a lot of work for those old folks to do on their own. They are not young anymore, and they do need the extra hands, especially to do the heavy lifting and the climbing. Those kids from the next town really lightened my folk's chores and responsibilities. They had more time to do the canning and catching up on lost naps. That was important, and without the extra help, they would have lost the orchard a couple of times to looters and wildlife. All their hard work for nothing would really hurt them and I didn't want that ever to happen. That old farm was their whole life. They built that house on that land over 70 years ago. That's amazing all the history that lays on that land. I grew up in that house, and my kids grew up in that house, until the accident. My sister's kids grew up in that house and I kissed my first boyfriend in that old barn by the house. It carried a lot of memories and good times with family and friends.

One day in the fall time, my granny was cooking dinner and my grandpa was outside in the orchard with the kids from town. My granny had a massive heart attack in the kitchen by the stove, and since the stove was gas it had to be lit with a flame to get going. Granny didn't want a new stove. She said that it never can do the job as a gas stove can do. She'd say that it was a waste of money and that money can go for other more important stuff. So, we never upgraded her crazy stove. But when she had a heart attack and fell, she had that little torch lighter and it started a fire in the kitchen. The problem also was that granny turned on the gas too, and when the flames reached the height of the leaking gas, it blew up like an empty pop bottle sitting out in the heat with a splash of gas in it. It blew up the whole farmhouse and burnt for two days straight. Those flames were angry and went through that whole house like a piece of paper. It was gone before anyone knew it. My grandpa and the young kid heard that bang and saw a few pieces of the house fly up into the sky, and that's when they both realized that the house was engulfed with flames. They both ran towards the house, but they couldn't get too close. That's when grandpa also realized that granny was still inside somewhere. He wanted to go and find her through all those flames. He loved her so much, they met when they were young kids themselves. I would say about the age of 12 and my grandpa was 16 years young. They were married for almost 75 years until the accident.

It was so sad, my grandpa just fell apart without his wife around to take of him. It was really sad. He fell asleep one night and passed away. We all thought that grandpa passed away because of a broken heart. He misses his wife, she was the only thing that made him happy and they did a lot for each other all the time. They just got old and worked hard all their lives. I really don't believe that he passed away from a broken heart, I think he couldn't live without granny. He missed her so much, so did all of us; myself and my kids. She was the best granny; she spoiled my kids and my sister's kids for years, granny watched them grow up. My kids were babies and when the accident happened my kids had known them for about seven years until they were both gone; then it hit hard. I really didn't think they would ever pass away. I never thought about it realistically. I thought they could live forever and make her jams and baked goods. I was a kid and just not aware of things yet, but after that blazing fire that got the farmhouse and some of the trees by the house. It was a crazy fire and it took the whole farmhouse and our granny. The only thing besides the barn was the orchard that was left. It was part of my grandparents too, that orchard was their baby, my grandpa would talk to all the fruit trees while watering them by hand and wrapping the stalks with cheesecloth to keep the bugs from making their homes in them. They were never any bugs in those fruit trees, and there were a lot of fruit trees. I used to kid around and say that our grandpa had a chat with the head bug leader and told him to stay away from his trees or he would bug spray them all. It was just a joke, we had another explanation for the bugless orchard. Just never on the trees. On the ground near the fruit trees, but never did they get into the fruit trees. It was pretty funny. We still don't know how he controled the orchard from ever getting bug-infested.

Below is a picture of the pear trees that were in the orchard at the grandparent's old farmhouse.

The orchard kept going even after the passing of the grandparents. It was like the orchard knew what to do and not to do when the grandparents were longer no more. The family had kept it up for the next few years after and we all made sure to take turns and take a trip out there to make sure things were calm and peaceful and that orchard was doing its duties as well.

Of course, it had to happen on my clock, and I didn't know what to do reason being was that I was alone and could never stand up to strangers unless I had grandpa's shotgun and a big darn dog. But one night when I driving through the yard before heading to town to stay at a friend's like usual, there were some strange lights flickering in the orchard. When I got closer I could see that most of the fruit trees were pushed over and the fruit picked clean off of them. There was no saving them, they were damaged and I couldn't see who was out there. The lights from my car drove the looters away and they took off into the night. I tried to save them, but they were mostly broken from the ground and they were too ripped up and cut up. I was glad that my folks were gone and they didn't have to see this. It would have killed them, or even worse, my grandpa would have killed them with his shotgun. He was very protective over their orchard. That was their life together and they started this orchard when I was really young.

When I drove back to town and stayed overnight at my friend's, during that night there were sirens going off and the fire trucks were going somewhere. It was really late, I mean it was after 3 am and that was really strange for that little town. But I had the worst feeling ever, when I was woken up by all the commotion I got this gut feeling that they were heading out to the old farm. I didn't think there was anything left to burn but then it hit me, the old barn was left. But who would burn that down. My folks were well known in that town and nobody would do such a terrible thing. But by the time I got out to the old farm, I had seen that the barn was still standing, just the orchard was in flames. My gut just tightened in a knot and as soon as I parked in the yard, I shot out of the car and ran towards the orchard. The firemen and policemen were standing there and they wouldn't let me very close. But I couldn't believe what I was looking at.

The whole orchard was up in flames and everything was burning to ash. I was crushed and so angry with what was happening. I wanted answers. I wanted justice, I wanted my grandpa's shotgun. I was held back and almost handcuffed, only for the fact that I was hysterical and furious and out to kill. They knew if they let me go, I'd run through that orchard and look for any signs of anything left behind that I could trace back to someone. The policeman that was holding me back and trying to talk to me, I went to school with. He knew me really well, and he told me that they will find the looters and take care of them and I should get back into my car and head back to town. I couldn't do anything about the fire, and it was very dangerous to get close to. They had things under control, and I knew it. I just wanted to know who, and I would get revenge. That was the only thing left of my folks, and all the memories, the livelihood of that little town. Everyone that was close to our family got their jam from my folks too. They bought the jam but they would get their jam and fruit in jars from my family.

I eventually calmed down and got into my car and left. It was heartbreaking to see and to watch, but we all were helpless. The flames took everything really fast and it all burnt to ash. The firemen controlled the flames and kept the flames in the orchard with the firehoses and the trucks pumping out all that high pressured water. They soaked the earth all around that orchard and the flames were kept in one area and didn't burn out of control and get out to other people's farms. It was a really upsetting few days, and the police asked everyone and nothing. It was a mystery and there were no answers. Everyone felt so bad for what happened that they all gathered together and cleaned up the orchard with respect to our family and planted the fruit trees again. They all had gotten seeds and spent the whole weekend after the fire had gone and replanted the orchard. The orchard was reborn and this time, the community had put together a late-night watchmen group, and everyone would take turns and drive around the community and the orchard late at night keeping things calm. The community had made a sign to display over the driveway just before entering the old farm. It was called " Angel's Orchard." I would never forget that old farm and those wonderful people that had put life back into it. It was like my grandparent's spirit was roaming out there, watching everything. They might have been. It felt like they were always there when we went out to that orchard after it grew back in and needed to be picked again. This time, we had the community and we all became family. We shared new memories through the years and stories for our kids and their kid's to come. It was "Angel's Orchard."