The First Berry Pool

After all the preparations, pumps, pools, water flowing, bog threshers positioned, the wet harvest started on Wednesday morning.  Then it stopped almost as quickly.  As I wandered in the direction of the bogs on the other side of County Road, I saw Brian rushing past in his truck, a look of urgent determination on his face that told me not to crack a joke about an unpainted board on his truck.  A conversation with Pete at the pumping truck and he was off.  I sauntered on, crossed County Road, came down into the bogs and climbed the hill.

Brian rushed by again.  Big problem !  Definitely not happy.

I descended into the lower bog and now I could see what was the problem.  An engine hose had blown out on one of the berry beaters.  Fortunately the machine had been at the side of the bog and it was easy to contain the problem and to work on the machine. 

Of course the work had not stopped completely.  Just one machine had been disabled and a few people, Brian included, seriously distracted,

So the work went on, and the wet harvest started.

What I remember most about that little disaster though came not even at the bog.  It was the propane that lingered in my throat and nose and clothes for days.  An acrid smell and taste, like metal.  Nothing nice about it.  And I wondered, I was just passing through.  What about everyone who does the work?

The First Berry Pool