Hug a Farmer!

Planting a vegetable garden is hard work. It is without a standing ovation or a boatload of thanks. It is, however, a labour of love. What else could it be? When was the last time we hugged a farmer?

A few weeks ago, my daughter-in-law and I decided to plant a small vegetable garden, quite unexpectedly. Upon surveying the space we had to work in, it became apparent this newest garden might have a chance of producing a harvest of sorts. The four tall evergreens, in varying degrees of decay, were no longer there, having been removed last year. In their place was space and the sun's life giving touch.

In each of the past two summers, a suitable garden site, in an adjacent location, had been thoughtfully chosen and its planting, carefully executed by our youngest son and his girlfriend, Lucy, my editor. Few vegetables remained after the long summer of weeding and tender loving care. Oh where were those vegetables? It could only mean that sun was lacking. Everything else was not. 

Every technicality had been addressed- including soil preparation- beforehand, yet the results after many months of care was an insult to human ingenuity and hard work. Our son and Lucy had toiled to bring their organic seeds to fruition. It was a sad end to an expected bountiful season. Alas, the only result of that lackluster harvest was the experience it had provided all of us. We learned a lot though I am not sure what that was.

Several weeks ago, an impromptu garden was begun in an area used repeatedly over several summers - two decades ago - to plant tomatoes, hot banana peppers, a few green beans, chives and dill. (In the interim, however, our 16-year-old son had landscaped the area to give us a green-land oasis in amongst the tall evergreen trees that stood within this space.) ... In his genius, our son was able to sculpt the Canadian flag into the design, adding to this picturesque landscape. ) Prior to his magical touch, crops had been planted, yearly, with life giving compost, a gift for the trees, at season's end. ... 

Near the end of my planting era, back then, it was obvious the trees, ever so tall and luxurious, were benefiting from the many gardens I had planted, winning the game of last plant standing. They stood ever so stately, as they took the glorious sun from the miniature plants beneath them. .. Whatever vegetables I could harvest, from my seasons of hosting a vegetable garden, I canned or simply froze, leaving behind a trail of dismal expectations. The trees grew, in response to the compost left behind by past vegetable gardens. Last year these trees were cut down. Their decay and continued impact on our foundation signalled the decision for their removal. Their time had come - as with all living things. It was also a time for renewal. Next year, something else would occupy the space where these trees and an English garden once lived and thrived. 

This summer's new garden was planted with an energized Momsey, daughter, and insights galore.. Maybe this garden would succeed. We would begin anew at farming.  There were two minds, again, to tackle this late summer madness of planting, hopefully, a new and improved garden in the same place as the original vegetable gardens of many years ago. ... Last year's garden had to be moved. Two attempts at farming there had failed. It had been an unfair experience for all. ... 

As my husband drove out west for family, friends and a high school reunion, I was left to mind the children: Mr. Wiggles, our one-year-old retriever, his sisters, Miss S, our 5 year old retriever, his older and much wiser sibling and Tiggy, our 11 year old kitty who was doing her best to eat, sleep, and be merry. With mosquitoes in tow, fresh cut lemons, a natural repellent for their unwelcome attention and humidity in abundance, my daughter and I began to plant the 'simple' garden of our dreams, the staples of our diet.  Hot banana/bell peppers, assorted tomatoes, and herbs of every type: basil, oregano, chives, sage, bay leaves and stevia, a first for us, went into the prepared soil.. Would they grow? We checked the time of greatest sunlight. 

We knew the animals in our midst would love to feast upon our green delights. The Chipmunks, wild rabbits and insects, too, were waiting. Protective barriers of all sorts would make the taking of our valuable green commodities a challenge.  Nothing was left to chance! The soil was primed for its duty. More topsoil /special mix was gingerly added after the planting was done. Between us both, we would do our utmost to bring this harvest home. ... 

Rain was in plentiful supply, now. Watering would be done as needed. Weeding was ongoing as was a prayer for much needed sun. There were days that the sun rose, then hid from view, knowing its power over our garden was a critical element to the delicate balancing act of nutrient rich soil, sunlight, water and green 'healthy' plants. (Food didn't grow on trees!!) Already something was amiss, though. Our three oregano plants died! ...What had I done to make this happen? I hoped to find out soon because many other plants depended upon me knowing.

New oregano plants were purchased and re-planted. Perhaps the originals were inferior from the beginning or simply a reminder that gardening is intelligent hard work. ...We play at gardening, sometimes. Farmers of all kinds do it for a living. They grow food for all of us. ... Hug a farmer! They deserve it!

The Invisible Cloud Came Running

It lunged from behind the bush. Its telltale shape, characteristic white stripe and bushy tail, had come to visit that day. “Stay away from me, little girl” he seemed to scream. “Go away”, he warned “or I will let you have it”! And so he did. Little 'Ella', our son and 'daughter's' 17-pound, 16-month old mini-schnauzer, now had something to call her own. It was a moment to remember. Eight days ago, Ella met a skunk!

It was a sunny day when the gunslinger came to town waving his weapon towards all who would dare come near. ... Ella stood there, realizing, that, perhaps, tempering her enthusiasm for investigating all things that moved outdoors should have been seriously considered. ... One look should have sufficed but her zealous, youthful, happy-go-lucky nature had not yet matured. She did not know that a skunk was a different kind of soul mate, not easily understood or liked by many in the neighbourhood. They had met in a most unlikely way. ... (Mall Cop, her older brother, was kept inside, watching and wondering when he was going to be allowed outside to investigate, too.)

A flurry of activity to contain and, hopefully, eliminate this horrid smell, began immediately. ... ("What was all the fuss about, anyway? Mall Cop mused. I didn't see anything.") Volunteers were on site, working in tandem, to remove the odorous cloud that had enveloped this innocent, young pup. A tiny, joyful bundle of energy had been attacked by a skunk. She did not deserve it. ... 'Ella' hoped her 'new costume' would soon disappear. ... Nighttime would be here. She would be coming indoors to sleep, perchance to dream, if at all possible, without that scent following her into the house. ... Though she was a talkative little thing, at times, she always listened whenever mom or dad called her, unlike her older brother. Typically, he would pontificate before strongly being advised to follow instructions, now. ... (But he was still "sooo goood", his dad would say, often.)

Miss E's compliance, that day, with the stringent washing routine was a top priority. ... All regular business ceased that afternoon. ... An emergency run to the pet store for specific bathing remedies and a strict adherence to bathing protocols of untold dimension began, in earnest. ... Just like last week's, The Country Girl Inside Me, an unthinkable act had occurred. In this current medical dilemma, however, a heavy male presence dominated the scene, all working together to help purify this cute little thing and restore her to her former sweet self. (Her older brother could only wait and wonder, “Was I next for a bath? I just had one. Why do I need another, so soon?") ... I was disheartened when told of the nuisance event, but comforted by the lessons it was about to teach us all.

Thank you, Mr. Skunk, for bringing life to a standstill for all of us. ... 'Ella' had not been attacked by a predator whose modus operandi might have been claws, teeth and terror! She had been touched by an odorous cloud, an invisible dome, a skunk's unique signature of protection. Ella would live to tell the story. ... She did not require a vet's visit or emergency surgery. ... A car had not hit her. ... She had not been kidnapped. ... She was still here, in one piece and in the same body in which she awoke, that morning.

I thought of the coyotes, raccoons and other menacing creatures that I have met in the country that could have easily confronted her that day and altered our whole family's emotional landscape, in an instant, forever changing the lives of at least 13 people. In those instances, she would not be with us. Even other dogs could have posed a threat to her. This time it was a skunk, a very 'strong' reminder of what did happen and more importantly, what did not. ... Miss Cutesy Pie's personality remained in tact, though more cautious about returning outside, the next day, where 'it' might be lurking, somewhere, for her return. ... Within 24 hours and after many specialized bath treatments, she was good as new, smelling like toasted coconut now, up close and nose to nose. ...Our little girl was fine.

The outdoors is called that for a reason. Indoors is generally a safer, more predictable place, where we humans are generally the masters of our own fate.. Mother Nature's home is a place we visit. It is not our place. Danger, beauty, the unpredictable and unimaginable, in all forms, are some of her endless disguises. We must be respectful and careful. Her power is endless and far-reaching. Ella resumed her activities with her brother, Mall Cop, the next day along with her high energy, playful, overzealous cousin, Mr. Wiggles. ... She could outrun them both and send them on their way, playfully. With Mr. Skunk, however, it would be a different kind of story. ... Even if he went away, he could still be with her, in a not so funny way!

The Country Girl Inside Me

Several weeks ago our laundry pump stopped working. Located in the basement, this small piece of machinery that moves waste-water from the washing machine up to the septic tank, did not move anything, any more. ... I delayed calling the plumber, wanting to empty and clean the sink, where the water collects, before it is sent on its merry way. His assessment-visit, weeks later, only delayed fixing the problem. I was not an emergency. Others were ahead of me. That was OK with me. I had waited. ... By now, I'd been without a washing machine for over a month. Waiting a bit longer was no big deal. ... (The sump pump, the other 'pump' in the basement is a constant reminder of its true intent: to keep outside water at bay, at all times. If it  malfunctions, it makes the laundry pump look good.) 

I thought of our dogs and realized they deserved better than this. I had been running out of towels, clean bedding and scatter rugs for them. (Their outdoor play area, topped with straw, was a muddy surface now, with recent rains.) Clean towels etc. were always a necessity for our animals to protect the carpeting, and to wipe them down whenever it rained, snowed or when 'mysterious' matter appeared on them. (It soon dawned on me that the washing machine was not broken. Its companion was.) Laundry could still be done, albeit, with a different approach. ... I would be the substitute laundry pump, for as long as necessary. ...  A gorgeous sunny day, with soft breezes, greeted me the next morning, perfect for drying clothes outside. ... The time had come to revert to the country girl inside me and begin the task of carrying and emptying pails of water to the upstairs bathroom. ... With an average of 8-10 pails per load, I began my early morning jaunt, up and down. ...I washed four loads that afternoon. It was an exhilarating respite from my normal routine. ... Later that day, I watched as the dogs began to sniff, roll and stomp on their freshly washed/air-dried beds, in the room they called home. ... It hadn't been that clean for weeks, they must have been thinking. (“Thanks mommy.”)

Nearly 40 pails of water had been disposed of with great vigor that day. I felt refreshed and my bones, muscles and ligaments received a good workout. ... Strength and attitude are everything. This current laundry pump fiasco reminded me of another time-years ago - when I had to carry water upstairs to the bathroom to dispose of water. ... Our septic system, then, was old and could only handle one load of wash per day. We lived in a town, on the verge of installing sewers, so upgrading, beforehand, was a waste of time and money. Our sons were toddlers then and were the impetus to do the one important load per day, until we moved, years later!

Electricity costs more in the country. Switching to an 'approved' fireplace insert - 25 years ago - resulted in significant savings in our heating budget. We now buy firewood and the momsey has split it, stacked it and keeps the home fires burning, with it, especially, during the freezing temperatures of winter. Going without electricity, on many occasions, for long periods of time, serves to remind me that full time camping could become routine, in the future. 'Showering' with bottled water served as a reminder that anything was possible. Baking a carrot cake on the barbecue required new problem solving techniques not asked of me previously. A new age had dawned. ...When the things we take for granted are taken away from us, even momentarily, it is then we realize how important they were, all along. It is then that the country girl appears to whisper that modern day conveniences have disappeared because circumstances have been altered.

Our first house was a simple little structure on a 'floating' foundation-(no basement)-with a small bathroom, containing an aluminum shower stall. There was nothing glamorous here. ... But it was ours, as 'down to earth' as it could possibly be. (I was teaching full time, then.) Washing laundry was done in the kitchen with a movable, hand operated appliance. One or two items per 'load' was all it could handle. ... Still it was an improvement. Going to the laundromat had lost its appeal. ...When the laundry pump is working, all is well, for now. ... Having cleaned up a few basement messes, over the years, serves to remind me that 'chaos' can happen, without warning. The 'country girl' inside is there to clean, scrub, carry water, wood, cook, - the camping way, when the unthinkable, the unimaginable happens. Touching base with ourselves, in a basic way, reminds us that we're OK and everything else will be, too, eventually. We adapt because we must.

The luxuries of modern life: running water, electricity, and appliances all serve to remind us how fortunate we are, especially, when they cease functioning - for a moment or two. For me, the good things in life can be as simple as clean laundry and  fresh water. That is what the country girl inside tells me, over and over again.