Kiefers

So, we all remember the unforgettable but not so delectable Kiefer pear. The Kiefer has an odd variety of characteristics that made it important to our childhood. The first is that it grows like a weed in Texas. While most of Dad's fruit trees were suffering from fire-blight or struggling to break free of the black gumbo, the Kiefer stood tall and proud, producing bushel after of bushel of pears, so many its limbs would fall off if unsupported. Some years I think we got as many as 8 bushels of pears from the tall, scraggly tree; it was unbelievably fecund. The second important feature of the Kiefer was that it was hard as a rock. Literally. We played baseball with these puppies, and one pear could last for several solid hits. Speaking of puppies, we used these more than once as dog-deterrents. Eating them fresh required a chisel and a lot of patience. Usually they were only edible after a few months of being canned. Harvesting them was always a challenge, just because the crop was large and the tree tall. Usually it fell to one of the smaller Rugglets to climb into the tree and shake it like your life depended on it while everyone else gathered them (the pears had about the same chance of bruising when they fell as a diamond shattering after falling from the same height). This was generally a painful experience for the hapless tree climber, the ordeal akin to a Mosaic stoning. One day when I was on tree duty I attempted to find some kind of helmet. Toy fireman helmets were OK, but my favorite was always a cornucopia put on top of my head because the long back part would shield my neck when I ducked down. Kiefers were one of the important building blocks and playthings from our childhood. They were always on hand for whatever sort of mischief we could contrive for them.