大象传媒

I really enjoy celebrating Autumn and Harvest-time. Seeing God鈥檚 promise to Noah, that, 鈥淎s long as the Earth remains, seedtime and harvest will never fail鈥� fulfilled year by year renews and confirms my faith. This year we鈥檝e had a good crop of apples and blackberries but only two plums. All are full of flavour, better than shop bought ones.

As a child, the Harvest Festival was a great occasion. On Friday we would go to Chapel and decorate, with crepe paper and white tablecloths, tables in front of the pews. People would then begin to bring their produce, which was suitable arranged.
Early Saturday morning meant a trip with a wheelbarrow to the local farms to collect sheaves of corn for decoration and anything else the farmers would give. I would ride there in the barrow but would have to walk back. Final preparations were done during the rest of the day, so that by evening, it was 鈥榣ook ye saints the sight is glorious鈥�.
Sunday, with everything in place, the air filled with the aroma of fruit and veg., the services of thanksgiving would be duly held.

Monday night was Sale time, when my Uncle, Jim Yarnold (some of you may remember his daughter Beryl Wragg in the Post Office) would auction the produce in aid of property funds.
The first item to be sold was always pomegranates, kindly donated by Alf Knowles, who had the knack of buying enough for every child to have one. One penny bought a pomegranate and a pin to lift out the seeds. This kept most of us quiet.

Wartime saw more vegetables than fruit. The pomegranates were replaced by carrots, which we crunched noisily.
It was 1942 that I remember best. On display were three oranges. Where they came from I don鈥檛 know. They took pride of place, being scarcer than gold. Much speculation took place during the weekend as to how they would be sold. By Monday, interest in those oranges had reached fever pitch. At eight o鈥� clock, Uncle Jim took a deep breath and announced that he would sell all three oranges at once. He asked for bids. The silence was deafening. After what seemed an age, George Darby shouted, 鈥淔ive pounds鈥�. Everyone gasped, for this was nearly three weeks take home pay in those days. Having no other bids, Uncle Jim said, 鈥淒one鈥�.
In a flash the mood changed. Some were obviously jealous, envious of George and his family. George went to the front and with help, peeled the oranges, separated the segments and broke them in half. Then, without a word being spoken gave each of us children a piece of orange.
Interpret this act as you will. For me, it was and will remain an act of selfless Christian love. As Jesus often said, 鈥淲hat you do for others you do for me鈥�.

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