Chestnut War Part 3

"Daddy! There is someone in our yard! DADDY!"

My son's screaming woke me from my dizzy nap. He and his sister developed a penchant for awakening at what I believe should be illegal hours on a weekend. They would tap on me on the couch and whisper "good morning" and I would point them to their tablets. This allowed me to sleep, even a shallow 30 minutes more, for a time AFTER the sun was up.

But this got me going. "The neighbors! I'm coming"

I managed to cut the "rise time" from about 10 minutes to 5 without crippling myself. I then stutter stepped over to the window and saw the neighbor lady.

An older Asian-American lady in thick heather great sweat pants. She had a pink floral blouse that still hung loose even though it covered what appears to be 4 other layers. She had marshmallow white puff sneakers, a lilac vinyl fanny pack, and a floppy short sun hat (like what Gilligan wore on Gilligan's Island).

"Daddy! Stop her. The chestnuts!"

"I'm going. I'm going!" But at the time beyond hobbling I am barefoot and in my underwear. I am more concerned about the bare feet because stepping on a chestnut is guaranteed to not just destroy your foot but also the feet of any podiatrist that would try to fix them.

I find the appropriate pants and shoes and open the front door. I scream "Hey!" The lady books it from the yard but still clutching a half full grocery bag of husked nuts. I grab a collapsible baton I keep in the top of the foyer closet. Because I still want to think I'm a badass but I am not so sad as to own a sword and, like 311 said, "guns are for pussies"

And I chased the lady down the street.

She moved fast (Its because of some ancient Chinese secret I bet," I later joked on Twitter to 2 whole likes). I did not, hobbled by my back and my yet to be treated bursitis in my foot (Yeah I had that too. I am a real premium specimen) but about 3 house lengths into this I stopped. Because I realized I was about to commit a hate crime over some chestnuts. They had thrown the first stone but I had to respond appropriately.

I then got the kids into hoodies and thick name brand Crocs (Not the cheap ones we got at Aldi's one time for the beach) and we went chestnut hunting. My son had a reacher-grabber he got for a birthday and I had every rake and broom out from the garage to bump nuts off the branches.

A quick aside about the nuts. They are called chestnuts because the fruit splits at maturity to reveal a good 1-2 wide nut. This part, like everything with the tree, feels alien. The final stage has the spiny nut (or chest) open into four neat and prickly petals. At this point the tree spits the nuts out leaving the empty and broken seed on the branch.

That all said it is much more common to find half open ones on the ground. If they are an emaciated brown then they may have a nut which the savvy hunter can shuck off with a roll of the foot. Then the nut pops out. Sometimes the nut is a dud and instead of a full formed nut you get four little desiccated "almost nuts" that appear like the last bits of an Outback Steakhouse Bloomin Onion. I assume this is something with pollination and it going wrong but I train the kids to ignore them and husk for the fully formed one.

The yard scoured of nuts,  I felt content we had done what we could to dissuade the invaders