I was one of the boys who worked at Sewell's Orchards. The quantity of us putting time in there probably amounted to a few hundred, as each spring brought a fresh batch of sixteen to seventeen year olds (farm labor was allotted an exemption to the minimum age and wage law) to work at Sewell's Orchard. The labor intensive period started the late spring, peaked in the summer, and (for the survivors considered really dedicated) into early fall.
The passing of time has cast a filter over memories of those times, casting them in a golden glow. However, I do vaguely recall ten-hour days (with paid lunch!) in sweltering weather under sunny blue skies with peach fuzz grinding into the skin like asbestos. So I returned several years ago, after the landscape was covered with houses to see the changes.It was sort of a surrealistic experience. I recognized where the irrigation ponds had been, the names of the streets roughly approximated where the different varieties of fruit trees had stood, and the hills and the dales remained in place. I even found Donald Sewell's and Ronald Sewell's houses were still present.
I knocked on what used to be the home of Donold Sewell. I expected a tall, strongly built man with dark sunglasses to open the door and tell me that the hired labor couldn't come up to the house. Instead, a teenager opened the door and patiently listened to me tell of my days on the Orchard. He gave me a tour of the house and I gave him an address and phone to contact (his mother was intending to write a book about the Orchard, I never received a letter or phone call, so I guess it didn't happen.)I took a final look around the development with a bit of sadness (but to be honest, I didn't miss that peach fuzz) and went on to visit family who continued to live in the region. -David Arnett
Thanks David! We're sending you a Wonderful World of Blog T-shirt! (offer void in all 50 states)
1 comment:
I am one of Ron Sewell's daughters. I had a few laughs reading your working experience at the Orchards! Thank you :)
I married someone whose parents live on Sewell's Orchards Dr. I get depressed when I think back to how beautiful the farm used to be. Now, it's just another neighborhood in Columbia.
I'll mention your name to my Dad. I personally don't remember your name, but I was one of the youngest and there were many who worked there before my time.
Chris Sewell
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