The government sends out a Weather Map every day. Our teacher gets one, and there is one tacked up in the post office every morning. These maps tell what kind of weather to expect, and father watches them closely. When he saw that frost was likely to occur, he and the men opened the gates which hold back the water, in order to flood the part of the bog where we had not picked. The vines were buried nearly two feet beneath the surface of the water. Father says the water cools so slowly that its temperature is much above that of the surface of the ground or the air near it, so the berries do not get frost-bitten. Soon after sunrise the water was drawn off, and the next day the bog was dry enough for the pickers to work.
Fig. 47.—A Young Worker. Notice how the Berries are picked.
I wonder if the Weather Bureau is of any use to farmers in California. I know that the sailors watch for the flags which tell when storms are coming, that they may not go to sea if a violent storm is expected. Father says very many lives and much property are saved every year in this way.
Fig. 48.—Winnowing and Barreling Cranberries.
I have not told you what we do with the cranberries after they are picked. Of course we cannot help gathering some leaves and twigs with the berries, and these must be taken out. For this purpose the berries are put into a winnowing machine. I will send you a picture of one. As the man turns the crank, wooden fans within turn rapidly, blowing out the leaves, twigs, and dirt. The berries drop through a screen and run out of a spout into a barrel, as you see. We then put them into crates or barrels for sale. Father tells me that cranberries are shipped from our country to Europe, because those raised here are much better than the European berries.
There are great quantities of cranberries raised in this part of Massachusetts. I have been reading lately that they are produced in New Jersey, on Long Island, in Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Canada, and some other sections. From what I have read, I guess they are not raised in Southern California. Wouldn't it seem strange if you were to eat berries raised on our bog, three thousand miles away?
Now I want you to tell me about the orange groves of Southern California, for none of us have ever seen an orange growing.
I wish you all a very "Merry Christmas" and a "Happy New Year."