the Walnut Diary

This afternoon I reluctantly took a large plastic bowl off the counter, put on my boots, hat and vest, and headed for the berry patch. This chore has been ongoing since September 2nd, a full month.

It was a beautiful, cold fall day. The loaded raspberry bushes bounced merrily around in the unaccustomed east wind, but I persevered, scooping handfuls of them into the broad, light container. The patch is a 3′ wide row, 50′ long. That’s a lot of picking, it turns out, especially late in the season when the bushes maximize their production until the frost kills them and you mow them down. Then they grow anew in the spring, only to begin the cycle again on the first of September.

The best thing about cold weather berry picking is that the insects are largely absent, (except for lady bugs today). Another tasty thing is that over-ripe berries don’t ferment the way they do in summer. Instead they turn a dark red and wait for the picker to devour their sweetness as his reward. It was a tasty afternoon, with 3 3/4 pounds of raspberries for the freezer, left over from my feast.

That’s a maple in fall colours in the background, btw.

I have written regularly in this space about my ongoing battles with red squirrels, and how I take a measure of revenge by raiding their nut caches. This year the devious little fellows relocated the cache I had such fun raiding last year. It is now 250 yards south of the other one, and somewhat better concealed. In fact, I blundered onto it by accident while trying to figure out if all of the walnut trees in the woodlot had taken the year off from nut production. In any case, I picked up six, five-gallon pails of nuts because it looked to be slim pickings this year. Even the every-year bearer at the house seems low on nuts because the neighbouring trees are barren, there are no nuts in my two, four acre nut orchards, and the five acre pine/walnut field has only one producing tree.

There must have been a late frost which caught them. Even temperatures a couple of degrees above freezing will kill the flowers. The tree at the house is protected from frost on a still night by the chimney of the furnace. Two regular-bearers back the lane are very old and tall. Their upper branches seem to miss low-lying fogs.

So in their turn I dumped four pails of nuts into my cement mixer, with streams of water and a few round stones. I borrowed my neighbour’s drying tray and prepared the extra piece of mesh to cover the nuts. In went the nuts. On went the mesh. Then I loaded the package onto the bucket of an old tractor, drove it out into an open field, and raised the loader up above my head.

The squirrels are still worried about red tails and harriers, not to mention the odd fox and coyote, all of which love a squirrel dinner. The nuts should dry in peace.