picking oranges

I went this morning to pick oranges on Coyle. A man was out raking the leaves out of the street gutters for his neighbors. When I said "Good morning!" He responded that is was a great morning. I agreed that it was a wonderful morning. I do not think he thought I said it enthusiastically enough so he repeated how great a morning it was.

Later when I was struggling to get the high oranges left on this tree he was whistling and humming Handel's Messiah, "And the glory the glory of the Lord, shall be revealed." When I mentioned I did not have any good gloves (mine all have holes) he gave me the gloves off his hands. They were old and mismatched but they did not have holes and they kept my frostbitten blue tipped fingers from getting worse as I walked home. When I got back my fingers were back to normal. God is blessing that man.

I got about twenty and while I was at it I knocked off the remaining pecans from my tree with my fruit picker. Mine are so big they actually stay in the basket. Cool.