The Year Money Grew on Trees - Aaron Hawkins [32]
"This looks like someone knows what they're doing," I said to Amy.
"Well, we don't, really. And once all these stupid trees are done, I'm never doing it again," she replied quickly.
I held back a grin. "I still think it looks good."
***
The boys and I copied Amy as much as we could for the rest of the week. We could only find three hoes scattered around our yards, so I used a shovel to dig up the biggest weeds and willow trees that had begun to grow throughout the orchard.
Something was definitely happening to the apple trees. Every day we rolled into spring, little red-green buds began to appear and grow fatter and fatter, bulging with life. When I woke up one Saturday morning, they had exploded over the entire orchard into tiny pink blossoms. I ran through the orchard checking all the trees. Every one of them was blooming. The pale pink popcorn against the dark apple wood was stunningly beautiful. Although I had lived my whole life next to those trees, I had never noticed before.
I was stroking some blossom petals when the other kids showed up in the orchard. "Well, what do you think?" I asked.
"About what?" asked Amy.
"The blossoms. Just look around!"
"Yeah, they're pretty."
"And do you know what this means? The trees are alive. They're going to make apples. Every blossom is an apple."
"I'm not sure that's right, but what are you getting so excited about, anyway?" asked Lisa, unimpressed.
"Isn't it nice to know that all our work so far wasn't wasted?"
"But this is what trees do with or without us," Lisa replied simply.
Everyone seemed more interested in who was going to use one of the three hoes we had for cutting weeds. I was still poking blossoms when Amy told me I needed to go see if Mrs. Nelson had any more hoes in her shed. I knew at least Mrs. Nelson would gush over the blossoms, so I yanked off a branch covered in pink and headed for her house.
"Good morning, Mrs. Nelson!" I said happily when she answered her door.
She looked at me and sniffed the air. "Why, you don't smell at all this morning," she said in surprise.
"Thank you," I replied. "We're done with fertilizing. I brought you something." I held up the blossom-covered branch.
She blinked a few times as if it were blinding her, and then she reached for it. "Oh, I didn't realize it was already time. They're just as beautiful as I remember." She sniffed at the blossoms and caressed the petals. "Oh, Jackson, don't you think they're the prettiest things?"
"Yeah, I do. But I'm not sure everyone cares like we do," I said, but she wasn't really listening.
"Why don't you come out and walk through the orchard?" I suggested.
"Oh yes, I'll do that. Just give me a minute to get ready," said Mrs. Nelson excitedly.
"While I'm waiting, can I have another look around the tool shed?" I asked.
"Go ahead," she replied, and went back into her house to change her clothes.
I cracked open the dark shed and began looking for tools that could be used for weed chopping. I noticed the tangle of hoses again and a big pile of bent aluminum tubes that I couldn't figure out. I didn't find more hoes, but I did find a couple of what people call "weed whackers." At the end of a wooden handle was a sharp metal blade. When you swung it back and forth, you could take out weeds with every swing.
I met Mrs. Nelson coming out of her door. I let her lead the way toward the nearest row of trees. She picked her way gingerly through the weeds bordering the orchard while I hung back, taking practice swings along the way with the weed whackers. "How are you feeling lately, Mrs. Nelson? Any healthier?" I asked, trying to make conversation.
"That doctor of mine