Los Tres

no. 52

The boys had been cooped up and were irritating one another. Put on your shoes, we are going in search of Dad. Leifer had given me a vague description of where he would be: trimming the avocado trees.

I told Adea we were going to Leifer, los tres, I had all three boys. We exited out the back of the casita. We wound through the apple orchard to the peaches. In the shade of the peaches, we saw Chica, Roy’s dog, who rolled on her back for a scratch.

We need to keep going towards the river, all the way to the back, I direct the boys. We weave in and out of the peach trees; their leaves provide cover from the sun, now directly above us.

We arrive at the edge where the slope drops to the river. We see Julian’s bright orange vest. Leifer must be close by. We walk to the edge and look for a path down. Leif spots a way. Leifer’s head bobs up and he takes small steps up toward us. The boys start down the hillside. A path has already been charted, flanked by rocks. We walk along, descending on the switchbacks. We meet up with Leifer. I smell anise, Leifer points out fennel. He has a matchbook. Leif, try to strike this match. Leif does but the wind carries the flame out. Next Enzo tries. Ouch, it burnt me. Leifer sets the dead vines on fire in front of us. Does fire need oxygen, I ask the boys. Leifer is burning the dead growth, clearing the hillside to plant avocado trees. I see little fires dotting the hillside. We feed ours, it rages above us. Remember not to use matches unless an adult is around, I remind the boys. The fire snaps and crackles through the tangled vines, devouring them much faster than we could with our own hands. It’s an effective tool that the boys are just beginning to understand.

We continue down the path, letting the fire work while we continue. Leifer has shears, and the boys take turns trimming the tree branches. We walk through the cherimoya trees. Leifer wants to see if any avocados are ready on the tree below us. How do you know if an avocado is ready? Size, I guess. Color, Leif guesses. No, the ready ones have a rough skin, Leifer corrects. Ah, by feel. Leifer lifts Enzo into the tree. He steps up onto one branch and then another. Leifer directs him on which to pull down. His prize rolls down the hillside towards the river. We collect, and collect. Leif fills his pockets, and I fill mine. This is how Leifer learned, family close by telling him.

Enzo up in the tree as Leifer directs him from below.

Enzo with his prize.

On the way up, Leifer points out Tarzan vines. They are overflowing like lava from a volcano.

Julian alerts us that lunch is ready. We collect tools and avocados, and start back up the hillside, then through the orchards, and through the back gate.

This time with Leifer is everything. We walk the same steps he did as a kid. Today, the boys learn something of Leifer’s childhood, something of their inheritance. It’s not from a book, but through their own movements, trimming, and harvesting- their own doing. Their harvest is the food we have on our table. What we plant will sustain us for summers to come; at least we have faith that it will. This life is sustaining us.

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I write these pieces while caring for my family and building a life between places.

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