Tree planters adapt to working during pandemic
Sweat sticks, clogged with dust. Mosquitoes whine madly. Muscles are knotted, feet burning, a 20-pound sack of tree seedlings rubs a hip with every trudging step, building on a nasty, season-long blister. It’s been nine hours on this mountainside, with every planted tree worth 17 cents.
Step. Dig. Plant. Step. Dig. Plant.
Finally back at the truck, a mask has to be put on a grimy face, and then it’s back with the same three people as yesterday. And the day before. And the 20 days before that. Tomorrow will see it all repeated.