Reyes             1

Juanita Reyes
Professor:Julie Roberts
English 1010:5:30 class
09 Sep 2010
Field Day 

	San Joaquin Valley, Californina has always had different types of harvests depending on the season including oranges, grapes, olives, peaches, and so on. My father was one of the thousands of field workers to provide their hard labor under the scorching California sun, whose temperature was most likely never under the 90's.
	My father came to wake me up one early Saturday morning to take me, as well as my brothers and sisters, to work the fields. 
"Come on, wake up, its time ", he said to me that early morning. I opened my eyes to a blurry living room and the smell off eggs frying, waiting to fulfill my stomach.
	I remember it as if it was yesterday. I was eight years old with dark long, black hair that was always put up in a ponytail followed by a braid. 
"Come and eat your breakfast before its time to go", my mother said from the kitchen. Hearing my mother I hurried to get a bite to eat before my brothers and sisters would leave me with their leftovers. Getting a quick bite always had to be in a hurry since dad always wanted to leave before the sun came out. Soon after breakfast, mom made sure I was dressed appropriately, with my worn down tennis shoes, blue jeans with holes on the knees and a worn down pink princess t-shirt . Before I knew it dad was honking for all of us kids and mom to hurry for he was leaving without us. All three brothers and four sisters ran out and jumped into behind his old bright blue chevy covered in a camper. Being one of the youngest children, I would always got one of the most uncomfortable spots to sit on during the drive to the fields.	Just how seasons change, so did the types of fruit we would harvest .We we were in grape season during the time.  As we were 
getti	ng off the blue pickup, I could see the long , green grapevines of rows that seemed to stretch out for miles. My father, being a tall, man with dark hair and a belly that seemed to stick out more than his body, got out of the driver's seat and went over to find out what rows we were going to be in charge of. Meanwhile, the rest of us seven kids we getting our grey plastic shallow cans and knifes to start our day under the scorching California sun. 
	The mornings were always fresh and chili and the sun was not an issue that early in the morning. I being one of the youngest, didn't have to do the same labor as my older siblings or parents. I, along with my brother,  was in charge of laying out brown paper sheets on the flat sand to have them ready for the grapes that were being cut by my parents. My parents always wrapped a bandana over their heads followed by a baseball cap to help with the sweat that would usually drip to their eyes when the sun was at its peak. 
	My older siblings never complained of the hard labor they did. We all knew it was the only way we were surviving. My twin brother and I didn't know better, we thought it was THE way to earn a living.
	Everyday we worked in the fields was hard. The only differance was the type of fruit we were picking. No matter what the season was, my twin and I were always the ones picking up what the rest of my family dropped on the ground. Life was never easy for my parents, they worked the fields for more than twenty years and learned everything their was to fruit and vegetables. Utah has been the best decision my parents ever made, they still work in agriculture yet their labor has diminished greatly. I see fruit diferently now. An orange that comes off directly from a tree is the best tasting fruit I have ever tried.