The Year Money Grew on Trees - Aaron Hawkins [30]
I looked down at my shoes, shook my head, and climbed up. After what seemed like two hours, Sam was driving slowly out to the road, leaving a cloud of swirling manure dust behind us.
When we reached the orchard, Sam pulled the tractor into the first row of trees and Michael and I stood in the wagon, shoveling manure over the sides. We weren't really sure how much to throw at any given spot and just kept working until the ground and weeds under each tree had a thin coating. Shoveling out took less time than shoveling in, but we only had enough manure for one row. My back was pinched in pain and my hands covered in filthy blisters as we spread the last shovelfuls.
"Kill the motor and let's leave it here tonight," I said to Sam.
Amy came walking over to us.
"You look terrible, and you smell just like, well, you know what," she said, laughing.
"Thanks, we know! And thanks a lot for helping," Sam replied angrily.
"You better follow me. There's no way you're getting in the house looking like that."
We followed Amy to the yard of their house and stood on the little lawn as she made us strip down to our underwear and sprayed us off. The water was freezing, and I ran hard back to my house. I met my mom at the door, dripping wet and holding my clothes.
"What do you think you're doing without any clothes on?" she demanded.
"Just finished some fertilizing and, trust me, you'd hate it worse with my clothes on," I said through chattering teeth. I left my wet shoes outside, put some dry clothes on, and took Michael's Shasta over to him.
***
Since I only had one pair of tennis shoes, I had to wear my dress shoes to school the next day. I usually only wore them to church and told my friends at school that "my cousin said these are coming into style," because I didn't want to have to explain the manure.
Later that day Sam, Michael, and I were on our way back toward the dairy, all of our shoes still damp. We were dressed in the very worst clothes we could find and wore handkerchiefs to cover our noses and mouths and gloves to cover our blisters.
When we pulled into the dairy, Jerry greeted us with a big grin. We slowed down as he motioned to us.
"Back already, huh? You must really like this stuff."
"Yeah, we only got one row done yesterday. Got twenty-nine to go. Loading it up takes forever. I don't know how long we can last," I yelled over the hum of the tractor while shaking my head.
"Tell you what, I'll go grab the front-loader and help you boys out."
"Really? It's not too much trouble?"
"Nah. I like seeing some people once in a while. Otherwise it's just me and these stupid cows."
He walked toward the end of the pen full of cows and started up a dirty-looking front-loading tractor used to push piles of manure around. We pulled our wagon over to our original loading point. Jerry drove the scoop of the front-loader into the huge pile, backed up, and dumped it into the wagon. Its axle shuddered. We gave a little cheer and waved to Jerry.
"Any time you need a load, just come and get me!" he shouted over the engines of both tractors.
Not having to fill the wagon by hand, we were able to finish two rows that night and were much less tired, but still filthy. Amy was waiting with the hose when we were done, and we each took our turn getting sprayed without saying a word.
***
On the weekend Lisa and Jennifer joined Amy in cutting down weeds around the trees. I didn't even bother asking them if they were willing to help with the manure.
We made good time on Saturday, and whenever we arrived at the dairy and called for Jerry, he came hustling out of his run-down building. He laughed and joked with us like we were the highlight of his whole day. We brought him a cold Shasta, and he drank it down without stopping to wipe off the top.
It was a pretty warm day for early April, and midway through the afternoon my mom came marching into the orchard. We were spreading a load on one of the rows.
"What do you think