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Post by bretf on Jun 30, 2016 2:48:43 GMT
Chapter 23: Time
When I was young I dreamed of being older Now that I’m older I dream of being young I dream of a time that there was no time at all And I wonder where the time is gone
When I was young I dreamed of how I’d spend my life Now that I’m older I spend my life in dreams The things I’ve planned and never done, the things I’ve done and never planned And all the while it’s later than it seems
Time, you’re no friend to me ‘Cause you go ticking by I can hear the enemy Each day you add a number to the things I’ll never be Oh time, you’re no friend to me
When I was young the road went on forever Now that I’m older I see it isn’t so Once I took the time now time is taking me And no one has to tell me where it goes.
Oh, time Oh, time Time you’re no friend to me
“Time” Performed by Lou Reid and Carolina Written by Chaz Jankel, Tyra Fennell, Andy Williams, Des Morgan
When Bill stepped into the house from pondering over his latest project he grimaced at the sight. Amy and Frances had the washtubs set on a bench in the kitchen, the washboard in one and the foldable drying racks set up throughout the house. The two largest canners were on the stove, heating more water. Doing the laundry by hand was a hard, back wrenching job – like so many things now. The fire was blazing and all of the windows were fogged over. He looked forward to warm weather so they could wash outside and use the clothesline. When they had a working washer and dryer, he had accused Brad and Amanda of dropping clothes in the hamper just because of body contact. Now, with the washboard in use and all water packed into the house and back out again, the clothes truly needed washing before they were laundered. We sure were spoiled, taking so many things for granted. And I was so vain to think I could easily adapt to the changes. The daily grind is starting to pull me down.
With the tea kettle, a mug and tea bags in hand Bill made a hasty exit and returned to the shop. He shifted the stove top oven enough to allow him to set the teapot on the stove to heat, and then returned to his work bench. He stretched and knuckled his back before bending back over the open binder. This sore back nonsense is the pits. And after being on my feet a few more hours, the hips will start in too. Getting old bites! But hey, I’ve still got my hair, even if it is going gray.
The binder was open to a page on making a honey extractor. Prior to the crash, he had been a member of the local beekeeper club and had access to the clubs extractors. There was no telling what the status of the extractors was now, so he figured it was time to make his own. He could always cut the comb out of the frames with the honey, but wanted to avoid doing that if possible. I’d rather make it easier for me and the bees at the same time. They shouldn’t have to make new honey comb each year; I’d prefer it if they were busy producing honey, not wax. Sure glad I found those plans for a home-made extractor on the internet when it still worked.
The idea for needing an extractor had come to him one day while he was preparing to make candles. He was going to make the candles from the bees wax left from cutting the caps off the cells to extract the previous batch of honey. He had set up his makeshift double boiler to melt the wax and was cutting cotton string for wicks. Unlike the beef tallow candles he had made in yogurt cups, this time he would use actual candle molds his dad had provided him with. I wish Grandpa could see me putting his things to use again after what, eighty or ninety years or so? As he was almost ready to pour the molten wax, it had come to him that it might take a lot of work to get the next batch of honey out. And with the state of things, he wanted to harvest as much honey as possible. He figured if things went smooth he could have the extractor done before most of his time was taken up with gardening.
The extractor and how many other things needed to get done? Goats, chickens, cooking, plumbing, ditch cleaning, pruning. The second hoop house needed put up, like yesterday. What else? There has to be more, I just can’t think of it right now. I suppose I’ll recognize it when it becomes a crisis. So much for making a honey extractor now. He groaned and knuckled his back again. Turning the pages in the binder to a blank sheet he started making notes, a habit he had gotten into as he seemed to forget something soon after the original idea. Oh yeah, a water collection system would be useful too.
Mischief was getting heavy with kids; her appearance comical with her nearly round body as she waddled about the pasture. In about three weeks she should kid and he would go back to daily milking. Each of the young does should kid in successive months after that. Although Mischief had kidded without a problem in the past, he wanted to make sure he had things ready when it was time. There was so much more riding on her success than the other times she had kidded. Fresh bedding down, the panels in place to separate her in the barn from the others. What else? Iodine for the umbilical cord, the water bucket ready, burlap bags to clean the kids if needed. And daily monitoring. I know there has to be more. Writing this is at least a start.
The more he had thought of the chickens and light, he had decided he would mount solar lights to illuminate the inside of the chicken house. A box of yard lights was sitting on a shelf where he had never gotten around to putting them in the yard. He planned to drill holes in the chicken house roof and mount the lights in the house and the solar cells above the roof, sealing everything with silicone. I hope it will give them enough light to pick up production. He had delayed mounting the lights, hoping for warmer temperatures.
The cooking was fine for now but once the weather warmed, it would be unbearable to cook inside, besides consuming a great deal of valuable firewood. The solution he had come up with was an outdoor rocket stove and oven. He had enough materials stored to make it, just needing time and warmer weather. The solar oven I have will help a lot but I need to work on some improvements to it and try to make a couple more of those. So much depends on the weather, and then everything will need done. He reached back and knuckled his back again before putting another block of wood in the stove.
The plumbing project he planned was to run a new drain line from the sinks and the shower out the wall into the raised beds along the house. This was another project he had always considered even in good times but had never gotten done. Now with carrying every drop of water to the house they used, he didn’t want to lose it, or carry it back outside if he could avoid it. He felt it was imperative to get it completed soon.
Bill thought a while about rain collection. The biggest drawback was timing. Most of the high desert’s annual ten inches of moisture fell in the winter as snow. The water wasn’t in high demand then, or particularly easy to store until it was. An above ground storage system could freeze and break. A below ground system needed a pump. Of course it would be fun digging in his rocky ground to put in a tank, if he could locate one. He thought of his rain gutters. He had gone cheap and bought the PVC system years ago. Now the gutters on the sunny side of the house had sagged at each joint, leaving low, leaking pools. It would all need replaced. So, I need a tank, a pump, and all new gutters and piping to the tank. Okay, rain collection will have to take a back burner to more pressing issues.
And the biggest project looming was growing food. Yes, the government was still handing out food. Yes, you could survive on it if you had to, but it was just reaching base caloric intake needs. Survive, not thrive. It would not leave people with energy to do the physical labor that would be needed. But Bill wanted to do more than survive. He wanted the family and the people around to eat well, with nutritious home grown vegetables. Not only eat well when it was growing, but he wanted to preserve enough to carry over to the next year and beyond.
He had always thought how tough it must be on farmers, so dependent on the weather. The past year had been challenging just for a garden; he had planned on canning more than usual so had fallen well short of his goals. A late freeze had wiped out his tender plants. That was followed by a record setting summer of hot days. The temperatures stayed so hot that beans and tomatoes wouldn’t set even if they bloomed until a month later than normal. Lord please grant us better conditions this year when we may have to depend on it. At least the snow fall had seemed normal over the winter so maybe they could get enough irrigation water.
The grape vines needed pruning and he wanted to take all viable shoots and put them in damp sand to start more plants. The raspberries would be sending out their annual new growth. He wanted to dig as many of the new plants as possible and start a new, larger bed. Then the fruit trees needed pruning and he had to set up some frost protection. Involuntarily, he knuckled his back again while all these thoughts came to him.
Squinting over his paper, Bill tried to think about what else needed done. Once again, he was lamenting the lack of electric lights. His shop just didn’t have enough windows and it was bitterly cold outside. Okay, add another window or two this summer. But that takes away wall storage, dang it. He had kept the doors closed and had the fire burning in the stove. The work area was poorly illuminated by a kerosene light; it could best be called “gloomy”. It was difficult for him to see clearly, can’t have anything to do with age can it, but at least he was warm enough without wearing his heaviest coat; his hands only needed light gloves.
The fire was going for another reason too, not just for his own comfort. He had requested the neighbors to come to a meeting there in the afternoon to discuss spring and summer. He didn’t want the gathered people to focus on how cold they were and miss the point of the meeting. They would be much more attentive if they weren’t shivering.
With the planting season quickly approaching, he hoped to involve most of the neighborhood in producing food. Preparing the soil, planting, weeding, harvesting; there was a lot of labor required for them to be successful. And the other important key to a successful growing season was irrigation water. The irrigation ditches would need cleaned, possibly all the way to the diversion dam in the river. Ditch cleaning had always resulted in a poor turnout; some people didn’t use the water and others figured someone else would clean the ditches and they would have water anyway. Hopefully that would be different this year if the neighbors hoped to produce any of their own food. Good irrigation water flow was essential if they were going to raise crops.
He planned on literally dangling a carrot before them. Soon he was going to prepare snacks for the meeting. The stove top oven was on the shop stove, heating. He would bake a large pan of cornbread and accompany it with some of his canned butter and honey. The remaining carrots and radishes from the fall greenhouse planting would be cleaned and put in bowls. And the topper – hopefully – would be French fries. Everything he planned to serve was to make a point to the gathering. With some hard work, they could all produce tasty, nutritious food and eat well and not have to subsist on the commodities.
Bill closed his binder and started straightening the shop. His habits were to lay stuff around until it finally got too cluttered for him and became a major project to clean up. He had done better since the crash, but old habits could be tough to break. He got the shop area as clean as possible and set up a number of lawn chairs and some long benches for the neighbors to sit on. The work bench was brushed off and a table cloth laid over it.
He took a metal bucket full of large river rocks off the top of the oven and put them in the pantry room, bringing another bucket out of the rook to start reheating. As the temperature steadily dropped it was getting too close to freezing inside, making him nervous about keeping some of the stored food safe. I sure miss being able to just flick the light switch. Prior to the crash, he kept the room warm in the winter with two incandescent light bulbs. Again he was looking for another method without electricity. At least I’ve found something else to do with some of these danged rocks. He was glad he had invested in the root cellar. The dirt insulation all around it allowed it to maintain a much more constant temperature than the shop room. He put another block of wood in the fire, closed the draft down and went to the house to begin working on the snacks.
In the house, his order of business was changed. He delayed his project while he helped Amy empty the dirty water from the wash tub into five gallon buckets and refilled the tub from the heated canners. While Amy mopped up the water they had spilt, Bill went to the pump house and filled two buckets with water, carried them to the house and refilled the canners to heat. After refilling the buckets yet again, he left them near the stove for the next water change. The used water, he carried to the greenhouse, pouring it out into the beds as far as it would cover. He regretted opening the greenhouse to the outside cold so took the time to start the rocket stove to replace the heat that had escaped when he opened the door. Since he was already inside, he pulled carrots and radishes before adding more fuel and leaving with the door closed snugly.
Once the rest of the wash water had been carried to the hoop house and poured into the beds, Bill, Amy and Frances had a snack then worked on preparing the food and two pots of coffee for the meeting. The fries came out of the grease and were placed on the workbench near the stove to keep warm just as the neighbors started arriving. As he prepared for the gathering he had pondered how best to approach it. He thought about past years and the poor participation to clean the irrigation ditches. It was so much like “The Little Red Hen” and he started getting angry the more he thought about it. Then he recalled the Ephesians chapter 4 verse they had discussed just two evenings ago. “Be angry but don’t sin. Don’t let the sun go down on your anger.” Okay Lord, I’m thinking of my goals and not yours; this is not righteous anger I’m feeling. Please help me have the right disposition and delivery for this get together.
The group of people coming in looked pretty ragged, many with gaunt faces. Most of the men now sported bushy beards; do I hear a duck call; and body odor grew heavy in the enclosed room. Most of the clothing they wore was splotched with dirt and stains. I guess when you’re packing water, grooming becomes a lower priority. They were all directed towards the plates, snacks and coffee. The fresh food was attacked with a gusto that Bill hadn’t seen for some time. These people are really hungry for good food. Now if they are just willing to help produce it.
When it appeared everyone was present that would be coming, Bill interrupted the chattering and addressed them. “Thank you all for coming. I only hope you came for more than just the snacks.” The comment generated chuckles and a call for even more snacks. “So I’m sure most, if not all of you are getting the commodities. These things you are eating now, very heartily I might add, are to demonstrate we can eat better than that with some hard work. All of the vegetables you are eating are from my garden. How many fresh veggies have you been getting from the food disbursements?” As people adjusted to the warmth in the room and removed heavy coats, it was obvious many were not eating as well as they had in the past.
The comments were met mostly by silence, and then some loud, open mouthed crunching of a fresh, crisp carrot. The carrot cruncher stopped chewing and said, “But you’ve got a greenhouse. The rest of us don’t. How are we supposed to grow those in the winter?”
Anticipating something like that, Bill picked up a box. “But these were grown in the garden this past summer, not the greenhouse.” He pulled the burlap bag from the top and dug through the damp sawdust and removed a handful of carrots. He handed one to the cruncher and passed the others out randomly throughout the room. “See how firm and crisp these are? It is quite possible to save and preserve a lot of the produce to last up to the next harvest. These have been stored since last fall. My grandparents did it; it was a way of life for them. We can do it too.” The room was filled with conversation, couples looking at each other hopefully that what Bill was telling them was true.
Over the din that filled the tight confines, one question to Bill was loud enough to get everyone’s attention and stifle the conversations. “But the power will be back on and everything back to normal soon. Why should we work so hard then?” a man asked in a whiney voice.
Trying to keep a calm tone while he wanted to question the man’s intelligence, Bill answered, “You are welcome to believe that,” Bill told him, and believe in the Easter Bunny and the tooth Fairy while you’re at it, but made sure he looked directly at each person before continuing. “But we have been without power for more than three months. We can’t buy gasoline or groceries. How many of you thought that could ever happen here? I didn’t, not in our country. But it did. Still, not believing it could ever happen didn’t stop me from having some things ready. I have a real basic creed: plan for the worst and hope for the best. I am going to plan and act as if we are in the beginning of a long term crash. Not that I wouldn’t be as happy as anyone else if things got back to normal.” He stared hard at the man that had asked the ludicrous question. “Look around, it really happened.”
There was some muttering and people talking to each other about what Bill had just said. “I hear ya Bill. I didn’t think something like this could ever happen but here we are. So what are you thinking?” someone asked. “What’s your worst case planning?”
Bill finished a sip of tea and set the mug back on his work bench. “I think we should start growing food crops in every available space. I don’t plan on being spoon fed by the government, and I don’t expect they will be able to keep it up long term anyway. There are a number of empty lots scattered about. I want them planted in tomatoes, corn, beans, and squash. Every pasture and yard should be producing food. I know a lot of you grow gardens. That’s a good start, but I’m talking about ramping it up and using every square foot that’s feasible and utilizing every day possible of the growing season.” There was more discussion amongst the gathered people while they talked about what Bill had said.
Motioning for Mrs. Woods to come forward Bill said, “I don’t know how many of you know Carol Woods, but she is my inspiration. She has the end house on the north side of the road.” He asked her to describe her gardening on the small lot and how much food it produced. Most everyone present had much larger lots. Once she finished, the room erupted into many different conversations at once while they discussed what they had just heard.
The talking went on for a while, Bill leaning on his bench sipping his tea. Finally one man stood up and, while addressing Bill, he also addressed the group at large. “Well I for one am dang tired of the cra, er, excuse me ladies, the slop that we are being fed and I don’t trust the Fed’s anyway. They’re probably keeping a tab on every one of us and will demand payment when we’re back to work. What’s your plan Bill?”
“Well the first thing is water. You know we can’t do a thing here without irrigation. We all have to work on cleaning the irrigation ditches. I’ve talked with Jack Parson; he used to be the ditch rider. He doesn’t believe the irrigation district will be able to take care of the canals this year so we probably have to clean to the river. Jack and the people that live past him along our canal are willing to pitch in since they have as much riding on this as we do.” Jack farmed a lot of the area to the west of the neighborhood and raised a number of cattle. “Then there is the planting and growing and everything that is involved with it. I think Carol can help us out with that. She has done a much better job than I have.
“The biggest part of the whole process is labor, pretty much hand labor. I think it is pretty simple; you work or you don’t eat.”
“But Bill, I want to help, but I’m just not sure what I can do,” Eunice, an eighty-year old woman answered, clearly distressed.
“I appreciate that Eunice, but don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure we can find something you can do. It won’t be the most back-breaking job, but there are some things you will be able to do. You might be able to provide water for the workers, maybe watch and entertain small kids to free up others. You can surely help pick things. Shoot, you’ve been around long enough, just your knowledge will be a help.”
Again the room broke into talk. Bill couldn’t make out much more than a buzz, but was sure he heard the whiney voice saying he couldn’t work because of a bad back. Bill shifted and knuckled his back again. Yeah, and my back hurts too but that’s life. It’s even harder on bureaucrats that have been cast loose I guess. Enjoy your handouts as long as they last. John Wayne must have known this clown when he made the statement ‘Life’s hard. It’s even harder when you’re stupid’.
Bill had set up an old set of architect drawings on a stand to use the back side as flip charts. He turned to the first page that showed the whole neighborhood. “I’m thinking the bare lots could be planted with potatoes, winter squash, dry beans and corn that makes good corn meal. The main reason for that is because they don’t need constant harvest, and are long-term storable staples. As long as we keep them watered and the weeds controlled, they can stay in place until the end of the growing season. Large pastures that aren’t in use could be sweet corn, tomatoes, string beans and other vegetables that continue to produce all season. More specialty type plants or family favorites could be grown in your yards and gardens. The things in the large areas would be stuff that could be easily preserved.” Bill stopped then to let the group study the layout and think it over.
Whiney was the first one to address the group, “I see your pastures aren’t labeled for growing anything Bill, but you want the rest of us to dig ours up to grow gardens.” He finished with a knowing smirk that he directed to the group.
Biting back the comment he wanted to deliver, Bill instead said, “Yes, you’re right, that’s a good observation. It leads perfectly to another item. My pastures aren’t shown in crops. But you must have missed when I said “pastures that aren’t in use”. Mine are in use for my goats and heifer. You realize don’t you that they’re not just pets. To work with everyone else, I will give the milk to anyone that comes over at five in the morning to milk, once they are producing again that is. Depending on how much they produce, I’m sure I’ll make a large part of the evening milk available too. Again, if you want to work you can have milk and its byproducts.”
Whiney appeared to deflate as he shrunk onto the bench. Russ, the man who was tired of the handout food responded, “I’ll take you up on that. We’ve been missing milk too. The powdered stuff just doesn’t cut it. Let me know when and I will be here. I’ve got a question though; how do we cool the milk once the weather warms up again. Do you know of something that will work? I’ve seen spring boxes used, but we can’t feasibly do that here.”
Glad to have Russ in the group, Bill told him and the group at large about terra cotta pot evaporative coolers. “If we can locate them, you take two clay pots – not the glazed ones, but the terra cotta style that will nest into each other with a space in between them. Hold on a minute and I’ll get the one I made and show you while I explain.” He went to a shelf and pulled a large heavy pot off the shelf and took it back to the area in front of the assemblage.
“I plugged the hole in the pots with duct tape and added fine sand in the big one until the tops of both pots were even when the small pot was placed inside it. Then I filled the space between the two with sand. To use it, you saturate the sand with water and the water will start to evaporate, so it actually cools more the hotter it is due to the higher rate of evaporation. As the water turns from liquid to gaseous state, heat is released, causing the pots to cool down. I cover the thing with a damp towel when I use it. It’s not a refrigerator but it sure gets stuff cooler than the surrounding air. We could keep a jar of milk and a cube of butter cool in them I think. I’ve only played around a little with this one right after I assembled it and it cooled some water bottles while I was experimenting”.
Whiney wasn’t quite done yet. He just wasn’t wired to accept people helping each other out. “So what’s in it for you? You must have some reason to get everyone else to doing all that work.”
Bill leveled an intense glare at Whiney, making him clear his throat and sink back. “Well, I guess I get peace of mind out of all of it. The peace of mind that people I know and care about are well fed. The peace of mind that those people I know are not stealing food from the mouths of my family. The peace of mind from knowing that some lazy person won’t make me choose to SSS. The peace of mind that I won’t have to choose between my kids not eating and turning someone too lazy to work into compost.” Bill bit back on the next words he was about to say. Lord, grant me patience.
The noise level picked up again, so Bill raised his voice enough to be heard and addressed the group, “So that’s my pitch. If this is something you would be interested in we can discuss it further. If not, thank you for coming and have a nice day.”
Russ raised his eyebrows questioningly, “SSS, Bill?” he asked.
“Yeah, it stands for “shoot, shovel and shut-up.”
Whiney’s face turned white as a ghost and he got up and made a hasty exit. A few other people looked skeptical but chose to stay.
Russ watched the door close, harrumphed and nodded his head and mulled over what Bill had said. He then asked, “So what about seed Bill? I’m all for what you’re saying but I only have enough seed for about half my own garden.”
“I think my family will have enough potatoes for seed. Speaking of potatoes, this past summer I read a book about a woman that came here in a wagon in 1864. (A Pioneer Woman’s Memoir, by Judith E. Greenberg and Helen Carey McKeever). She peeled potatoes deep around each eye and planted those peelings. She claimed that she and her brother in law each got a good harvest just from the peelings.
“Miguel there,” Bill nodded at another man, “Always grows a lot of corn for meal. Between him and me, there is enough seed that we can plant a few acres. I bought a lot of seeds this past fall. Hopefully there are some more seeds around but I think we can come up with enough to cover the neighborhood. It would be a good idea for everyone to see what you have at home so we can share around enough to get everyone covered. I have enough tomato seed for the entire neighborhood. I got a bunch of seed from varieties I haven’t tried before. They were written about by a woman named Jackie Clay. I don’t know if anyone reads “Backwoods Home Magazine”, but Jackie has been living the life for years that we have been thrust into and writes some very insightful articles we can follow. I was going to plant some trays in the greenhouse in two weeks. I sure wouldn’t turn down any help on that.
“One other thing about the seed. None of us knows how long this will last. I pray it isn’t so, but just suppose next year at this time, things haven’t gotten back to normal and we’re planning for another year of raising all our own food.” The stunned faces looking back at him indicated none had contemplated anything of that magnitude.
“Now, as I said earlier, I try to plan for the worst and hope for the best. Just in case this drags on indefinitely, we also need to plan on producing our own seeds from now until things are back to normal.” They all watched him expectantly, hanging on every word. He wasn’t used to this much attention and talking. “Excuse me,” he said and sipped from his tea to wet his throat. “So, we need to grow a lot of heirloom plants if we are going to save seed.”
There were puzzled looks when Bill finished. “Sorry Bill, but what does that mean?”
“Heirloom seeds produce plants and seeds that are the same as their parent plant. In our old modern world, the seed companies were making hybrids, crossing different plants to get something that has the desirable traits of one or the other parent plant. The seeds from those plants don’t produce plants the same as they came from; you never know what you’ll get. And those are the good crosses; some greedy companies decided we shouldn’t save our own seeds. They developed plants whose seeds won’t even germinate. Then there are the companies that put botulism in the seeds so they can soak the plants in weed killing chemicals. But never mind all that. I could go on and on about that and then have to ask the Lord for forgiveness for everything I said and thought. Let’s just plan on the heirloom plants for our future seed. By the way, the mainstays in my garden: the beans, cucumbers, winter and summer squash and my usual tomatoes, I’ve been saving my own seed for years. I’ve got a lot of all of them to share. One great thing about them is they all do very well here.” He finished and took another sip from his cold cup of tea.
A good productive discussion followed with everyone that remained wanting to be involved. It soon evolved into a general planning session.
“Bill, Alan, are you there?” The two way radio on Bill’s belt crackled to life with Bob’s voice. “Bill, Alan pick up.”
Alan was talking to a neighbor so he nodded at Bill to answer but kept his head turned to hear. “Yeah, I’m here Bob. What’s up?”
“You guys need to get down here now. Mom’s dying.”
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Post by bretf on Jun 30, 2016 2:53:21 GMT
Chapter 24: Bouquet in Heaven
When it's decoration day up in Heaven There's a bouquet I'm longing to see There's a flower somewhere in this bouquet And means all the world to me
Now, tonight the old home place's lonely Since Mother has been called away And I know I can never more see her 'Til we meet on that decoration day
I remember the night the angels called her To live on that beautiful shore It left us so lonely here without her It can never be home anymore
When it's decoration day up in Heaven There's a bouquet I'm longing to see There's a flower somewhere in this bouquet And means all the world to me
“Bouquet in Heaven” Performed by J.D. Crowe and The New South Written by Lester Flatt
The room had gone quiet when Bob’s words came from the radio. Bill froze in place, the color drained from his face. Alan left his conversation and moved toward the door, shaking Bill from his trance. “Mike, Russ, can you guys take over here? I …… have to …. leave.” He turned towards the door on autopilot, his feet working but his mind not really functioning.
Somehow he found himself in the kitchen without realizing he was there. Amy looked up from folding clothes and saw his face. “What is it Bill? What’s happened?”
“It’s Mom, we need . . . to go there . . . now,” he stammered out. They had known she was failing, but still, it was a shock. Mom had always been there, the glue for the family.
“Frances, get the kids and Carla” Amy told her sister. She hugged Bill tight, not that he noticed, and then bundled for the weather, took Bill by the hand and started to the door.
Bill found himself standing next to his Mom’s bed with other members of the family, looking at his mother propped up on pillows, nearly the same shade as her sheets, her breathing ragged. He couldn’t remember walking there or taking off his coat and hat in the living room. He reached for the withered hand, noting the almost transparent skin pulled tight over the arthritic knuckles, every bone jutting out. “Mom, it’s Bill” he spoke softly. Her eyes fluttered and her faded blue eyes focused on her youngest child for a moment before closing again.
“Bill,” the word was barely discernible in the quiet room. “You have made me so happy and proud. You are doing such a fine job, and the kids are the joy in my life.” The words were raspy and slowly delivered. Bill had to strain to hear. “I love you son.”
He squeezed her hand softly and felt a light squeeze in return as their clasped hands were spattered by the tears running off his face. “I love you Mom”. Amy grasped his shoulder and gently drew him away to give room for someone else. He let her guide him out of the way and fought hard to keep standing as Carla came into the room and went to the spot he had just vacated. He was barely conscious of first Amanda and then Brad pressing in front of him and Amy as they looked at their grandmother. Amy was quietly praying but Bill couldn’t understand her words.
*****
After much discussion, the family decided the funeral would be in Bill’s garden. One corner had been turned into a flower bed in the past, attracting honey bees and butterflies. They would use that spot as the gravesite and maintain it in the future as a flower bed.
The ground was frozen to a depth of twenty inches making the digging very difficult. Added to the ever- present rocks it made for a long, hard group effort. Every member of the family insisted on taking a turn at the excavation. As they worked, the sky got murkier as another inversion settled over the valley. The gloomy mood was enhanced by the equally gloomy sky.
*****
Days later Bill was beginning to pull out of the haze he had been in since his mother’s passing. Has it been a week, or longer? As he sifted soil and compost to fill flats in the greenhouse he could at last string some thoughts together. Mike had told him about the rest of the interrupted meeting, but for the life of him, Bill couldn’t remember anything he had been told. The only thing he heard was the litany in his head: “Mom’s gone”: and his brain seemed to shut down until he thought it again, “Mom’s gone”. He had gone about the needed chores for the last week automatically but couldn’t concentrate on anything. This was the first thing he had worked on since the funeral. It was therapeutic sifting and mixing the soil. Yes, life goes on and we can’t stop for long. As he worked, the old song by The Birds started going through his head:
To everything - turn, turn, turn There is a season - turn, turn, turn And a time for every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die A time to plant, a time to reap A time to kill, a time to heal A time to laugh, a time to weep
A time to build up, a time to break down A time to dance, a time to mourn A time to cast away stones A time to gather stone together
The song was based on Scripture and was comforting as he mouthed the words he remembered and hummed the parts he had forgotten, which was most of it. Yes, a time to mourn, and a time to plant. I can hear you now Mom, saying to quit moping and get back to living. All right then, we’ll make the flower corner, your corner, look the best it ever has. He had filled two large pots with sifted soil and compost. He set the screen aside and started combining the two in another large pot and dampened the mixture before he began filling his flats as a beam of light came through the glass shining directly on his work area. He stopped what he was doing and looked at the light, then out at the sky. Lights from Heaven.
At last the inversion was lifting and patches of blue sky were beginning to show through the murk. As the haze left the sky, it felt like it was lifting the haze from his mind. He started singing louder as he set a full flat on the shelf and reached for the next empty one.
The shining sun was welcome for another reason. The daylight hours had once again reached the ten hours required for plant growth. It was still too cold for most plants, but without it registering in his muddled head until now, green shoots were popping up on the southern exposure of many buildings. He wiped his hands as best he could and made a note on the whiteboard he had attached to the wall. Make a note before the thought gets lost from loneliness. He needed to watch the new shoots closely. Some of the earliest greens he usually saw were dandelions, soon followed by button weed. Plantain and purslane would follow when it was warmer. Once he saw them growing, he wanted to lead the school kids for a day of foraging edible greens. He would also get out a message to everyone interested in gardening to be involved.
All of the “weeds” he was thinking of grew prolifically in the neighborhood, at least they were prolific in his garden, although he wouldn’t mind seeing more purslane. He especially wanted the kids to get after the button weed since it was such a pain in gardening, even though every part of it was edible. Another class would involve harvesting cattail roots and bulrushes in the drain ditch. He also needed to show the kids lambs quarter and pigweed when they came up. They both grew in abundance in Bill’s garden and he included numerous leaves from each in his early salads. A few places in the neighborhood also had burdock, with its large edible root. Bill hadn’t eaten it himself; when he saw it growing he chopped it out, detesting the burrs it produced. All of it should be welcome to the people that were subsisting on the diminishing commodity handouts.
Bill continued sifting, mixing and filling flats until the shelves were covered. He wiped his hands again and checked his planting charts. In the next day or two he planned on planting artichokes, tomatoes, peppers and asparagus. He had decided it would be impossible to find asparagus crowns. If germination was good he could furnish the neighborhood with most of the plant starts they would need. It was a little early for starting tomato seeds but he had decided when the seedlings need transplanted, most could be put in hoop houses. It would allow the gardeners to roll up the sides and harden the plants off when the time came. It would also give him a big head start on the plants. Tomato production was a major concern after the previous summer. The only tomatoes he had harvested at the normal time were from plants that were already in blossom when he had set them out. The small plants he had set out did not set blooms until the heat wave had passed. Too much was riding on this year’s harvest to miss that much production time.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Bill glanced at the thermometer. He had been burning the fire in the rocket stove since he had come in. That would not be further necessary with the sun finally shining in; the solar radiation would quickly heat the room up. Not that he wanted it that warm for himself, but he wanted to heat the soil. Everything he wanted to plant had optimal germination of at least 75 degrees so he wanted to give the seeds the best chance possible for a good, fast start. He had never paid attention to the soil temperature in the past, feeling that the seeds would sprout when they were ready. But he didn’t have the same nonchalant view now. Now all the extra details needed to be followed if he was to successfully extend the growing season to its limits. He checked the soil temperature and saw it needed to warm substantially to reach 75. He would fire up the stove again as evening progressed. He put his coat on and went into the cool, but rapidly warming outside.
Pausing outside the door, he let the sun warm his face. It felt so good after the gloomy air and the funk he had been in. He stood where he was and savored the feeling, much like a cat lying in a sunny window. While he stood there a goat bleated causing him to look over. Mischief was very close to kidding now. Her udder was full and looking bigger than ever. How can she look that big and not act miserable. Amy didn’t act that chipper when she was that close. Wouldn’t she like me comparing her to Mischief! She already accuses me of spending too much time with the goats. He went over and looked at the goats and reached through the fence and scratched the base of the old goat’s ears. Okay, time to get the lights in the henhouse.
One cordless drill battery had been outside, hooked to a solar charger while he was in the greenhouse. Bill unhooked it and put his other battery in its place then gathered his drill and a large hole saw, tape measure, four yard lights, a caulk gun and tube of silicone, placing them all in his portable tool box: an empty five gallon bucket. Before setting the drill in the bucket, held it up and mentally thanked whoever had come up with it. He did have a hand crank drill and a brace with a variety of bits, but was happy to leave them in the bottom drawer of the toolbox.
He carried the bucket out and set it down next to the pasture gate and then got a ladder and carried it through the goat pasture and into the chicken pen. After leaning it against the chicken house he turned at the sound of the pasture gate opening. Thinking he was going to return right away, he hadn’t clipped the gate hasp; after turning he saw Mischief had flipped the hasp up, put her nose in the gap and pulled the gate open. The round waddling goat shambled out the gate trailed by the other goats. It was an action he had seen many times; Mischief could open the gate in a heartbeat if the clip was forgotten.
It was a lighthearted few minutes getting the runaways back in the pen. Most times he tended to get irritated at the goats when that happened but this time it just felt fun. Once order was restored and the tube of silicone put back in the bucket from where a goat had dropped it after deciding it wasn’t edible, he carried the bucket into the pen and got to work. But not before the snap was clipped on the gate hasp.
After the kids returned from Leslie’s, Amanda joined Bill at the chicken house. Mandy arrived soon after, the two girls rarely being seen apart. Brad had dropped his books and walked back towards Mark’s house. The project went very fast with Amanda on the roof and Bill inside when it came time to assemble the lights. They were finished and carrying the ladder and tools out of the pen when Amy called that supper would be ready in five minutes. As they approached the back door, the empty buckets were a clue that they needed to bring in some water with them. And I still have to get a wheelbarrow load of firewood.
Dinner included fresh fish Brad and Mark had gotten from the traps in the drain ditch that afternoon. The traps had been moderately successful giving each family fresh fish, with more that were getting shared through the neighborhood. Many of the fish would have been cat food or fertilizer in the past but people weren’t nearly as picky about bones now. Brad and Mark made it a point to check the traps at least three times per week. They enjoyed tromping in the ditch area and had made more traps and expanded their range. The least productive traps had been relocated as they searched for the perfect fishing holes.
The kid’s relationships had shifted when Mandy had moved to the neighborhood. Prior to that, Amanda, Brad and Mark were together much of the time, doing things as a team. Now they were two distinct pairs. The three years difference in Mark and Brad’s age wasn’t an obstacle. The two had shared similar interests before the crash and they would spend hours talking about things that only confused Bill. Are they even speaking English, or is that Klingon or something? Since the crash, Brad shared a lot of knowledge with Mark, helping him quite a bit. Bill could only shake his head at that. In the past, Brad had fine-tuned the act of not understanding all too well when it came to work; Amy let him off from doing many chores. Now with Mark, he showed he knew a lot more about the garden and animals that he ever let on. Sly like a fox, that boy.
*****
The usual day of the commodity food drop rolled around and a large group from the neighborhood gathered and made the walk. Bill still went along each time and picked up his allotment of the food, and then shared it with neighbors that appeared more in need than his own family. He mostly made the walk for the information that was shared. Once the lone radio station had stopped broadcasting, the food drops had become the main news source. Most news traveled by word of mouth. Official news was in bulletin form posted on a large sign board that had been erected at the food drop location. It contained what little news the state officials or the National Guard units had – or at least were willing to share. A few people with shortwave radios posted news that hadn’t been censored by the government. The official and unofficial news items reported that many large cities had been mostly destroyed by riots. The president had declared martial law in a most areas of the country. The National Guard and military was getting stretched very thin trying to maintain order. In some cities, there was no law and order. Diseases had killed large portions of the population. Violence had caused many additional deaths. FEMA had established large refugee camps in many locations. Wow, we’ve got it good here, even without power.
Other people had turned the back side of the signboard into a barter board. It contained postings of many needs and a few of things people had in excess and what they were willing to accept in trade for it. It was commerce of a sort and seemed to be working well. Most of the actual trades took place in view of the Guardsmen. The people with items to trade generally traveled in well-armed groups.
When Bill’s group arrived at the parking lot, the scene was different than usual. No semi-trucks were parked there, only one Humvee with a group of Guardsmen in their desert-camo fatigues. Many of the people around the Humvee were clearly agitated and yelling at the men in the Humvee. It resembled mob scenes that used to be popular footage on the evening newscasts. A new poster was on the news board. Bob worked his way through the crowd to read it and then had to force his way back out, shouldering past the shouting people. “It says there won’t be any food today. The feds have underestimated the need and are starting to run short. Can you imagine that, the feds getting something wrong? They were sure the power would be returned and everything back to normal so they went through the stock faster than anticipated. Now after further review, the distributions will occur monthly.
“But wait, there’s good news too. They can still take care of you. FEMA has a couple of operational camps in town now. They will distribute food to the people that are checked in. No weapons are allowed in the camps and everything you take in will be searched. How about that? They still have food for all their happy campers, just not enough for the people that choose to stay in place.
“And then there is the part about the National Guard on patrols watching for thieves and looters. While we aren’t officially under martial law here per se, they have been authorized to shoot any obvious looters. There you go; judge, jury and executioner all in one, making a life or death decision in a quick glance.”
“Humph, I can see why there are some ticked off people. They’ve been indoctrinated all their lives into believing Uncle Sugar will always be there for them and now when they need it the most, there’s no help.” Alan said. “Think how fun it’s going to get in those FEMA camps.”
“Why don’t we get out of here,” Bill said. “Things could get ugly.” In fact things were already getting ugly around the guardsmen. After the four men had gotten inside the Humvee, some people in the crowd were pushing against the vehicle and started rocking it. The engine fired up and it started slowly easing its way through the massed people, pushing a few belligerent men as it progressed. As Bill’s group made their own way out of the gathering crowd, the Humvee cleared the mass on the other side and started moving faster as it was subjected to a hail of thrown rocks. “Wow, it looks like those Palestinian kids on the news,” Bill observed. “Only those aren’t just kids chucking the rocks.”
As they made their way back towards home, Alan stopped and called some of the people to the barrow ditch beside the road. He pointed out some plants growing and started lecturing everyone on their uses. While Bill knew most of the edible weeds that grew in his garden, his knowledge paled in comparison to Alan’s. Alan had provided Bill’s first exposure to eating wild plants and previously had liked to spend weekends living off what he could forage. Soon, he led the group to another patch of green and started telling them about the growth there. He explained the parts that were edible, how he harvested them and how he prepared them. As they neared the first person’s house, Bill mentioned the drain ditch to Alan.
“Good idea.” He stopped everyone and told them, “There is a lot of good eating in the drain ditch too. If you have rubber boots, get them. Bring bags, a paring or good pocket knife and a garden spade if you’ve got it. I’ll get a shovel. Let’s meet in a half hour at Fred’s house. He has good access to the ditch.”
They continued on, Bill knocking on the few doors of families that hadn’t joined them on the trip to the store and telling them about the morning’s activities. Occasionally Alan would see a plant poking out of the ground he hadn’t addressed already. Bill also stopped at the “school” to get all of the youngsters involved.
At the drain ditch, Alan showed the group about harvesting cattail roots, and explained about leaving enough for continued growth. A few new shoots were sprouting so be broke one off and popped it in his mouth. Nothing like a real demonstration if they doubt you. He also told them about eating the young stems and later, the pollen heads. He was quite thorough in his explanations.
A short distance away a clump of dried bulrush stems were sticking out. He went to it, still lecturing and pulled some new shoots that he also began eating. There were other plants along the water’s edge growing that he pointed out. They were a little further developed next to the moving water than the plants along the road.
Brad told his Dad that one of the fish traps was close, so Bill asked him and Mark to get it. They came back with the basket holding a few fish. Bill had them take the fish out and split them up with the group. He sent them off to check all of the traps and split the fish among all of the neighbors. He told Brad not to bring any home after this; share them through the neighborhood. Everyone else had greater need of them.
Bill climbed to the top of the ditch bank to start for home, but paused at the top. The neighbors were spreading out along the ditch foraging and digging cattail roots. It wasn’t going to be a gourmet spread, but it would hopefully fill them enough until they got more food. I bet it’s far better than what they are getting in the concentration, oops, I mean FEMA relief camps.
*****
When Bill took the hay to the goats and Mischief didn’t show up, it confirmed the thoughts he had had earlier. He looked in the barn and it was definite. He put the panel across the door to keep the others out and went back to the house and woke Amanda. “Hey, you want to see some babies born?”
She rose up, instantly understanding what he meant. “Of course. Let me get dressed and I’ll be right out.”
“Why don’t you go get Mandy, and I’ll get Mark. I’m sure they both want to see this.”
She agreed as she picked up her clothes to change and pushed Bill out the door before closing it behind him. He wasn’t fifty feet down the street when he heard the door and then the gate close as Amanda ran for Mandy’s house.
The kids brushed off the milk stand and sat on it side by side as instructed. “What’s that?” Mark asked, wide eyed, at the bag of waters that was hanging exposed.
Bill explained as best he could, but it was short and simple. “If you want to know more, maybe your Mom has the information in one of her books.”
Soon two small feet protruded, followed by a nose. The kids jumped as Mischief let out a load painful bleat when the head came out and the rest of the body slid easily to the straw covered ground. Mischief turned to it and began licking its head. After confirming it was breathing, Bill stepped back to let the goat do her job.
“Eh, gross,” a white faced Mandy said. Mark looked on with wide eyed fascination. Amanda had seen it before and took it all in stride. If she thinks this is gross, wait until she sees the final clean up.
Soon Mischief was having more contractions and began to deliver the second baby. When she pulled away from the first born kid, Bill went to it and wiped the exposed end of the umbilical cord with iodine and checked for sex. “We’ve got a girl”. Soon the second baby was delivered and Mischief was cleaning it. While the kids looked on fascinated, the first baby tried to stand on wobbly legs, toppling back to the ground. On the third try, it stood shakily, swaying, but staying on its feet. Mischief nuzzled her, causing her to lose her balance again. After shaking her head, the little goat regained her footing, much faster and steadier. Mark had been quietly asking questions that Amanda was answering. Mandy looked like she was going to be sick.
Both goat kids were soon on their feet and with just a little help from Bill were nursing. After getting their fill of the rich colostrum they plopped down in the straw. Mischief expelled the afterbirth and when she sniffed it and began to eat it, Mandy ran for the door, muttering something unintelligible. Mark still looked on, amazed at everything that had taken place.
“Amanda, do you want to explain about the importance of the first milk to Mark?” Bill asked.
“Uh, okay, but you can do it better.” At a look from her dad she started to tell what she could remember. “So the first milk is called like colostrum or something.” Bill nodded that she had the right term and she continued. “A baby can’t get antibodies from its mother like in the womb. So all of that is in the like first milk the mother produces. So the baby should get some of it like right away so it can be healthy.” She looked at Bill with the question on her face if she had described the milk correctly. He gave her a slight nod of approval.
Amy walked up to the door with a resigned look on her face. She still didn’t like the goats. She would admit the babies were cute, but that was as far as she would go. “Mom, we’ve got a girl and a boy!” Amanda told her excitedly.
“Oh, great,” her tone didn’t indicate she thought it was great. So another girl will have how many more babies? Yes, that’s just great.
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Post by bretf on Jun 30, 2016 3:00:49 GMT
Chapter 25: Tubthumping
We'll be singing, when we're winning We'll be singing
I get knocked down but I get up again You're never going to keep me down I get knocked down but I get up again You're never going to keep me down I get knocked down but I get up again You're never going to keep me down I get knocked down but I get up again You're never going to keep me down
“Tubthumping” Performed by Chumbawamba Written by Judith Abbott, Duncan Bruce, Paul Greco, Darren Hamer, Nigel Hunter, Alice Nutter, Louise Watts, Allan Whalley
“Earth to Dad; I asked you if this was a weed,” Amanda said bringing Bill back to the present.
“Oh, yeah, that’s a weed, pull it,” Bill told Amanda after looking at the plant she was pointing at. Before giving her the chance to pull it, he reached over, plucked it from the dirt and bit off the green stem and leaves and began chewing. “Actually it was lamb’s quarter. We can let them go as long as they don’t interfere with the plants we want to grow.” He pointed out another for everyone to identify.
They were in the greenhouse with Mandy, Brad and Mark. The kids were pulling weeds in the permanent beds. The beds had new seedlings of broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage and Brussels sprouts. The shelf along the back wall was a sea of green. The tomatoes, peppers and artichokes had sprouted and grown well and now needed transplanted into larger individual pots. The asparagus was wispy little green stems and would be fine in the flats for a little longer.
Bill had been preoccupied with thoughts of his last trip to the news bulletin board. A second news board had been erected and it was dedicated totally to notices about the official response to increasing lawlessness. Yes, looters were being shot, their names and photos posted to drive the message home. Bill had been scanning the news board when a name jumped out at him; Jimmy Campbell. Looking closer, he confirmed it. Oh Jimmy, why couldn’t you listen at work? We tried to give you the help you needed to go into this mess but you just wanted to party on. Now look how that worked out. I wonder how many more “Jimmy’s” are out there? The few lines accompanying the name and photo said Jimmy and two other guys had been involved in home invasions within days of the crash. The authorities had finally been a step ahead of them.
I wonder what’s become of the rest of the guys from work. They should be all right if they used their heads. Well, except for Steve, maybe. He must have it tough since his whole world revolved around his TV and now it’s useless and he can’t eat out twice a day. The way he griped about Jenny always on the phone to her momma, she was probably whisked off to Arkansas as soon as this hit. Hopefully they’re in better shape than Jimmy now. It was hard to even imagine Steve and Jenny preparing and eating the food they had gotten from Costco when the bombings had begun.
Bill shook the thoughts of Steve and the image of Jimmy’s lifeless, bloody body from his mind to focus back on the work at hand. It was a beautiful early spring day, perfect for being outside playing in the dirt. Bill had set up a sawhorse and OSB table outside and was moving individual flats out from the greenhouse to begin transplanting. He didn’t have near enough pots and scrounged containers for the number of seedlings he had, but he would fill all of them and set them on the greenhouse shelf. The rest of the tender seedlings would be direct planted in hoop houses. He and a group of helpers had spread compost in the new hoop houses and tilled it in with the green manure crop he had planted the previous fall.
The week had been busy and productive. Bob and Cal had a plow mounted to one tractor, the disc on another and had worked up every patch of ground they could fit the tractors onto. The drawback was that only one tractor was operating on wood gas. The other was using precious stored fuel. As soon as the ground was worked up, Bob and Cal were back to work retrofitting the second tractor. The activity was therapeutic for Cal, occupying his time while he dealt with losing his life companion of over sixty years, but still he looked drawn. Bill was again thankful that his brother was there with their dad.
The neighbors had pulled together to get the gardening under way. Phil and Lois Roberts worked tirelessly, showing their worth to their new neighbors since occupying Martin’s vacant house. Bill’s second hoop house was erected as well as four more scattered throughout the neighborhood. Three were covered with clear plastic a painter had in his shed. They wouldn’t be as durable as the rest, but they should last for at least one year, hopefully more. Everyone with a spare window had set up cold frames. Cold weather crops had been planted; some seedlings beginning to show through the freshly worked soil.
“What now, Dad?” Amanda asked as she came out of the greenhouse.
“Why don’t you guys take that stack of flat rocks and set them out along those new furrows in the hoop house, and then get all of those milk jugs of water out of the shop and spread them out there. I want to get some heat absorbers going while it’s warm. We’ll set them close to the plants after we get them planted. I’m still a little nervous about the night time temperatures. We’ll put some of that floating row cover over them once everything else is done.” The floating row cover idea was from the Elliot Coleman winter gardening book. Mr. Coleman said it greatly added to the protection of plants.
“Oh wait, before you do that, you better check on the goats. I don’t see your little girl out with the rest and she was looking very close to kidding.”
Bill went back to his seedlings while the kids went excitedly to the goat barn. All the kids except Mandy, that is. She stayed at the table and asked if there wasn’t something she could do to help him until the others came back. Bill chuckled when he remembered how she had reacted to Mischief giving birth.
“Dad, Dad, she’s having her babies!” Amanda yelled from the barn.
Bill walked over to the fence so he could be heard easier and asked, “So do you need me, or can you guys and the goat take care of everything?”
“She’s alright for now. We’ll call you if we need help.”
“Okay, I’ll be at the table transplanting.” He wanted nothing more than to go to the barn, but the seedlings needed tended to. Still . . . He walked back, and looking at Mandy asked her, “Are you sure you don’t want to see the new babies arrive?”
The color drained from her face and she swallowed hard before saying, “No, I think I’d rather help with the plants.”
Bill chuckled again and began to transplant the tender plants. Soon a stream of neighbors joined them at the table. Bill took a group into the hoop house and showed them where and how to transplant, then directed others to do the same at the hoop house across the street. Don’t keep all your eggs in one basket, he thought. After the seedlings in the flats were transplanted, they would move the brassica plants to hoop houses. As the flats were emptied of the new plants, Bill began to mix more planting soil to start the process again.
“Dad, Dad. We have a girl!” A very excited Amanda shouted from the corner of the goat barn and then ducked back inside.
“Mandy, I’m going to go see the new baby. Are you coming along?” Bill asked, already knowing the answer. Seeing everything that went with live birth had really affected her. And I always thought women were better with this. Learn something new all the time I guess.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll see them when they are out playing.” She did enjoy watching Mischief’s kids running and jumping. The kids had already spent hours in the kid’s pen playing with them. They always looked forward to feeding time; the human kids with the old pop bottles filled with fresh milk and topped with rubber nipples had replaced Mischief as the goat kid’s mom.
As Bill walked to the barn he looked into the small chicken house. The bantams had done exactly as he had hoped, both of them setting on a clutch of eggs. He had secluded them in the section previously used to raise babies, keeping other hens from trying to lay eggs in the same nest.
The addition of solar lights had brought increased egg production earlier than usual. Or was it just that the new pullets were ready at the same time the daylight started getting longer? The eggs were being shared with neighbors that were working hard getting the gardens ready. The fresh protein was happily welcomed; meals were still lean, but everyone was managing to get just enough to eat.
When Amanda saw her Dad step to the barn door, she beamed at him, “Dad, she was having trouble so Mark and I each grabbed a foot, and then we waited and pulled when she had a contraction. It was tough getting the head out, but then she did the rest on her own.”
“Good job guys,” Bill told them. He was happy to see the young doe busy cleaning off the baby. He was concerned about first time mothers when they had a difficult birth. After he had gotten his first two young doelings, the first goat kid born there had been rejected by the mother after a difficult birth. “Yell if you need me. I’m getting back at it.” He decided Amanda probably knew as much about the goats as he did and Mark was quickly learning everything he could about them. If nothing else, the boy had sure taken well to milking.
The second baby was born and both had nursed by the time Amy called everyone together for lunch. Knowing Bill had the group activity planned, she and Frances had made a large pot of homemade egg noodles and chicken. The large group of chicks Bill had hatched just before the crash was around half roosters that were now adding fresh meat to meals; them and some old hens that were well past their productive years. The chicken and noodles was accompanied by a large salad from the cold frames. Plants that had looked dead in the cold of winter had sprung to life with vigor once the days warmed and daylight lengthened; salad greens were currently available at Bill’s.
At the end of the day, all of the young plants had been transplanted and watered in. The flats and greenhouse planters were replanted with seeds. It was gratifying to see so many members of the neighborhood taking the project seriously.
During a break in the planting, Bill had addressed the group. “This may seem a bit out there to most of you, but have any of you ever heard of “Humanure”?”
When all he got was negative responses, Bill showed them a printout of the pamphlet he had and quickly described the process. Most of the listeners didn’t seem very receptive to the idea, but he asked them to take the papers and read them with an open mind. “I should have shared this with you all earlier but better late than never I guess. If we do a lot of intensive growing, we will need to fertilize the ground and this is a ready source. It’s pretty obvious we aren’t going to be running to the garden store and getting the bags of chemical fertilizer so we have to make our own. So please, take it serious. And another good fertilizer is literally right at your fingertips, at least for the men; it’s urine. It is high in nitrogen and a lot easier to save. It can be diluted and poured on the ground at the roots and it can be poured over your compost pile.” There were some crude comments on saving urine that Bill tried to talk over.
“Hey Bill, ya got any beer? I’d make a lot of fertilizer if I had enough of that,” someone said.
“Naw, I don’t have any beer. I sort of forget how to think if I drink beer so I gave up on it.” Man, did I ever forget how to think, and well, I need my wits now. He shifted the conversation to another table he had set up.
There was a stack of books and articles he had printed from the internet that he showed to the group. The stack included The Encyclopedia of Country Living by Carla Emery, The Foxfire Book series, Making the Best of Basics: Family Preparedness Handbook by James Talmage Stevens, Gardening When It Counts: Growing Food in Hard Times by Steve Solomon, Seed to Seed: Seed Saving and Growing Techniques for Vegetable Gardeners by Suzanne Ashworth, All New Square Foot Gardening by Mel Bartholomew, Root Cellaring: Natural Cold Storage of Fruits & Vegetables by Mike Bubel, Outdoor Survival Skills by Larry Dean Olsen, Four-Season Harvest: Organic Vegetables from Your Home Garden All Year Long by Elliot Coleman, LDS Preparedness Manual, edited by Christopher M. Parrett, The Winter Harvest Handbook: Year Round Vegetable Production Using Deep Organic Techniques and Unheated Greenhouses Eliot Coleman, A Field Guide to Medicinal Plants and Herbs (Peterson Field Guide) , by Steven Foster and James A. Duke (Eastern & Central, and Western), Identifying and Harvesting Edible and Medicinal Plants in Wild (and Not So Wild) Places , by "Wildman" Steve Brill, Rodale’s Illustrated Encyclopedia of Herbs, Claire Kowalchik and William H. Hylton, Editors, The Resilient Gardener: Food Production and Self-Reliance in Uncertain Times by Carol Deppe.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think to get these out before. There is a world of knowledge here that we can all use for what we are now facing. I want these to be used by everyone so we can all gain and share that knowledge. I’m certain each of you can find things in these books that I missed. I have a sheet here that I would like you to write your name and the name of the book, if you take one. We can use this as a library resource for everyone.”
In no time everyone was leafing through a book. By the time everyone went to their own home, the stack was gone.
*****
When Bill opened his pill bottle, it was empty. He set it down and did some figuring. It had been nearly five months since the electrical power was stopped, the two months leading to that with bombings all around the country. Seven months of terror attacks. Seven months since life in the United States had been turned upside down with no end in sight.
He went to the pantry and took out a fresh pill bottle and a Mason jar filled with dried pig and beef thyroids. He sat at the table and studied them intently while he sipped from his coffee cup. He hadn’t been able to locate any further information on the use of pig thyroid. The main information was that “Desiccated Thyroid was the cleaned, dried and powdered thyroid gland of pork and beef.” He found a small mortar and pestle that had been a Christmas gift he never expected to use, then poured the dried glands out and began to crush them. After everything was crushed to powder he mixed it and after more contemplation, took out an amount about one and a half times the size of the pills he took and swallowed it. He would start taking a pill and the pig and beef thyroid mix on alternating days and try to pay close attention to any effects it had on his body.
*****
The air had a sharp bite to it when Bill stepped out, milk bucket in hand. The chicken water had a thick layer of ice, giving Bill an icy feeling in his stomach. After he had taken care of the fresh milk, he went to the garden and looked at the cold frames. The sight of wilted plants greeted him. He felt as wilted as the plants. He wouldn’t open the hoop house for a while but was sure it would not look good.
When the air had warmed enough to open the first hoop house, Bill went in and checked on the plants. Under the floating row cover with water jugs and stones, the plants were standing tall, looking just as they had the day before. The second hoop house did not look as good. When he raised the row cover, he was greeted with a sickening sight. The small plants were flat on the ground, the leaves a sick color from freezing. The plants in the other hoop houses looked the same, except the hoop house at Russ’s home. Russ had run large PVC pipes the length of the rows, nestled close to the plants and filled them with water since Bill had been there last. The water had stored enough heat to keep the plants from freezing. An additional layer of clear plastic was over the row cover.
Russ was there, checking on the plants when Bill stepped in. The plants were all standing up straight, untouched by the nighttime freeze. “That Elliot Coleman has some good ideas for us; layering over them just like blankets on a bed. The PVC pipe was something I came up with. I thought about your jugs of water and liked it, but I didn’t have a bunch of jugs. So I adapted and made different water-heat reservoirs.” Bill was thankful he had made the books accessible and that at least Russ was reading them seriously.
The only other plants not looking affected were the brassica family. As he looked at all the destroyed plants, he was reminded of a TV commercial from his youth: “It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature”. Well, he hadn’t tried to fool her, just get an early start on the growing season. Okay, live and learn. Pay better attention to the weather and prepare to add heat if starting tender plants early. And don’t cry over spilt milk or frozen plants. He was pulled out of his down mood when he saw a patch of spinach that had sprung upright as the sun started heating it.
*****
The days remained busy. The number one priority was caring for all of the new seedlings; keeping them watered and from succumbing to another freeze as the earlier batch had. The fruit trees were pruned and had tin can rocket stoves, stones and cinder blocks placed under them. The goats thoroughly enjoyed all of the tender branches. The grapes were pruned with many canes cut and put into damp sand for rooting. The asparagus beds that had been getting choked out more each year by quack grass were slowly cleaned. And all it took was the end of the world as we know it for me to get this done. How about that?
When the next growth of plants from the greenhouse was ready for transplanting, the neighborhood was better prepared for them. Russ had heat reservoirs in place and extra covers all ready when the plants were ready for transplanting. The covers were raised to vent in the heat of the day and re-secured again as the temperatures began to drop.
On one particularly warm and calm day, a large crew burnt the weeds in the irrigation ditches and cleaned them to the canal. Two days later, along with the group of farmers arranged by Jack Parson, they burned and cleaned the canal to the diversion out of the river. The irrigation ditches were the lifeblood of western agriculture. Without the stored up water, the region would regress back to a semi-desert environment.
The raspberry patches in Bill and Cal’s gardens were both sending up many new shoots. In the past, they had each given away hundreds of plants on Freecycle and Craigslist. Now they were carefully dug and patches started in the home gardens of everyone involved in gardening. They were accompanied by plum trees that shot up from the base of Bill and Alan’s established trees. Numerous shoots came each year; Bill had always regretted cutting them off. Now they would start new trees throughout the neighborhood.
*****
As Bill started the head of irrigation water down the rows of the newly planted corn field he reflected on the past nine months. Really, nine months since all this started? There had been a lot of changes, but they weren’t all bad. Yes, his mom was gone and his dad seemed to be going downhill at a disturbing rate. That was probably to be expected after losing his life-partner. But so many other people looked so much healthier. In his own case, getting away from a desk, coupled with outside work had done wonders. Added to the work was a much better diet, eliminating most all pre-prepared foods and the chemicals they were laced with. His thickening waist had dropped back down to a size it hadn’t been in years. Sure glad I boxed up all of those jeans when they got too tight. As his belly diminished and his muscle tone returned, his back bothered him less and less. And he could see the same results in most of the people around him. Too bad it didn’t alleviate the joint pain.
There was still news posted regularly at the bulletin board. Things were grim in all the major cities, or what had been major cities. In most cases, the troops were able to contain the violence but not suppress it. Diseases however were not as easily contained. They continued to spread unabated. Bill stopped what he was doing and asked the Lord for his mercy on all the poor souls affected and thanked him again for the extreme blessings that his area received.
The news, while always depressing hit Bill harder this time while reading it. It makes me feel like we’re here on an island in the middle of a raging tempest. But we can’t be the only island. There’s got to be more out there! Really Jesus, I have to forgive the . . . guys that did this?
The gardens and fields were all looking very good. Most everyone was harvesting fresh salad greens and radishes. The pea pods were heavy with growth and could begin to be harvested most any day. The cleaned out asparagus patches, with layers of compost over them and no longer competing with the quack grass were producing heavily. Early raspberries were plumping and would begin to turn red soon. The potato field was showing good growth and the weeding crews made sure they did not have competition although edible weeds were allowed to get large enough to grace a meal before being pulled. The hoop houses had provided a great head start for the plants in them. The tomato plants were all staked up, the first planting starting to bloom, the second planting not far behind. The extra heat and protection had made a huge difference. There had been enough seed to plant all of the empty lots and home gardens. An effort would have to be made to save seed for following years although Bill still had a large stock stashed away in the root cellar. It was refreshing to see the involvement of all of the neighbors. Bill had been concerned about a “Little Red Hen” situation, but evidently a winter and spring short on food had made an impact on most everyone’s thinking. Wonder how you’re getting on in the FEMA camp Whiney? After the food distributions had slowed to a trickle and not getting handouts from the neighbors, he and his wife had gone to the camp. How can you feel so entitled and lazy? It was a puzzle Bill just could not understand.
A secluded section of the garden Bill didn’t show to other people was putting out a lot of new growth. It was his experimental pain killer patch that he hoped would never be needed but he was going to attempt it anyway. Not to mention getting hauled off by the Fed’s if they figure out what I’m up to. It was a patch of opium poppies that he hoped to turn into morphine. Not that growing them was illegal, but the next step was when he had to be especially careful. He also knew of at least one patch of cannabis that was being cultivated although it wasn’t necessarily grown for pain relief.
Daily milkings of the goats and jersey cow were yielding enough dairy products for everyone that wanted to help. Each morning and evening at milking time neighbors showed up to assist in the chores and share in the fresh milk. The goat kids and calf had been separated and were bottle fed, saving more of the milk for human consumption. Bill managed to keep enough to drink and to make butter and cheeses. He hadn’t thought to store extra rennet, necessary for making cheese and would soon have to experiment. In his piles of documents was one that discussed using rennet derived from thistle and stinging nettle. He would have to give that a try before long, as his liquid rennet was nearly gone. He wasn’t even sure where he would find either of the plants though. After Alan had shown the neighbors both were edible, they were getting harder to find. Although Amy still turned up her nose to the goat milk and products, once getting used to the rich Jersey milk and butter, she no longer missed the weak milk she had purchased in the past. She constantly put Bill’s Mom’s churn to use making deep yellow butter.
After all of the goats had kidded, they ended up with two new doelings and four bucklings. The boys had been banded and all six disbudded. He guessed the weathers would become food, though he hated to do it. His goats had always been borderline pets and the kids were just too cute. Well, things had changed and he had to change too, no matter how much he disliked it. Amanda didn’t like that idea at all and was working hard with her two favorites leading them and putting harnesses and packs on them. She argued that taught to drive and pull wagons as well as pack, they would be more valuable. We’ll see I guess. He decided as soon as they were weaned, the other two would move to Alan’s house. He didn’t have the same qualms as his brother about butchering animals he had raised. Bill had visited with a friend that raised goats and arranged to trade his buck for one of hers, getting new blood into each flock. The newborn calf was not the heifer they had hoped for; it was a bull that soon became a steer. Bill didn’t have as much problem picturing him as part of the menu.
The chickens had begun laying in earnest once the daylight hours had stretched out and the temperatures had warmed. Bill had noted an increase in eggs after mounting the lights in the hen house but nothing like the natural change. I guess they needed a rest too. The new pullets had added to the production, allowing most of the neighborhood to share in the eggs. The bantams were living up to their reputation, each sitting another clutch of eggs, having weaned their first broods.
Bob, with Cal constantly in tow, had been keeping busy away from the gardening. He had struck a trade with Jack Parson to trade his wood gasifier knowledge for wheat at harvest time and a beef when the weather cooled. One tractor was running on wood with one more and the combine to go. After they were complete, Bob was going to help with one for the pig farmer they had met the previous fall in exchange for hogs. Somehow, they had also found time to plant a large garden at the cabin. It still amazed Bill that the bears tended to leave it alone.
As Bill thought of all of the vehicles they had that now ran on wood as well as the wood needed for home heating and cooking, it raised another concern. They would need massive amounts of firewood and would have to start bringing it in as soon as they could fit it into the schedule. That was yet another drawback of their location. Few trees grew close by without irrigation and the river banks were crawling with people taking every stick of wood they could drag home. Time and fuel consuming trips into the mountains would be required. Well, at least we have plenty of stabilized fuel and oil for the chainsaws.
Then we need to figure out winter feed for the stock. The animals were tied daily along the roads and in any patch that wasn’t raising food, extending the pastures. Other patches, unsuitable for gardening were fenced off with the plastic netting fence and hooked up to the solar fence charger, allowing the animals extra grazing. But winter feed was a necessity and would have to be addressed soon.
“Hey Dad, check them out,” Amanda called from the road.
Bill looked up to see Amanda with Mandy, Brad and Mark working with the two small weather goats. They had fashioned harnesses from horse halters and had the pair hooked up to a red wagon. The kids were doing a great job in training. Bill could see the benefits in trained goats and could feel himself relenting on butchering them. We’ll figure out meat some other way I guess. “Looks good,” Bill called back as the kids demonstrated the goats performing a turn as directed by the reins.
More people had joined Bill and were helping to get the water to flow through the new corrugates. You know, if we continue to work hard, very hard, and pull together, we just might be able to ride out this storm.
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Post by bretf on Jun 30, 2016 3:03:18 GMT
Chapter 26: Silver Lining
Woke up on the wrong side of rock bottom You’re all out of pennies and the well it done run dry You’d light ‘em up and smoke ‘em if you had ‘em But you just ain’t got ‘em Ain’t we always lookin’ for a bluer sky
But if you’re ever gonna find a silver lining It’s gotta be a cloudy day, it’s gotta be a cloudy day If you wanna fill your bottle up with lightning You’re gonna have to stand in the rain You’re gonna have to stand in the rain
‘Cause if you’re ever gonna find a four-leaf clover You gotta get a little dirt on your hands You gotta get a little dirt on your hands If you wanna find a head that fits your shoulder You’re gonna have to go to the dance You’re gonna have to go to the dance
If you wanna find the honey You can’t be scared of the bees If you wanna see the forest You’re gonna have to look past the trees
“Silver Lining” Performed by Kacey Musgraves Written by Josh Osborne, Kacey Musgraves, Shane McAnally
“Hey there Santa Claus, have you been down to the bulletin board recently?” Russ asked Bill as he and three other men joined Bill hoeing weeds.
“Santa?”
“Yeah, aren’t you hoe, hoe hoeing?” Russ asked with a grin.
“Right. Anyway, no, it’s been a while since I’ve been there. What new news do they have posted?” Bill stood up straight, then leaned on his hoe handle, relishing the opportunity to stretch his back.
“The once a month food drops are no longer sustainable. Now they say no more food will be distributed at least until fall. And only if they have enough to start up again, but even that remains questionable. If you want the handouts, you have to go to the camps, they can still keep everyone fed that checks in. It makes me wonder if the government just wants everyone gathered together so it’s easier to control them. Winco still has a little distribution coming in, but with cash hard to come by, they will only be open one day a week.”
“So what do you think it means to us? Bill asked.
“It was pretty thin eating for a while there, but now that the early vegetables are producing, your eggs, milk and the fish; I think that we are doing well enough with the limited variety, although some more protein would be good.” Like most of the people, Russ’s family had been eating two small meals per day for some time. Hunger had been a constant companion for many. “My biggest concern is that any parasites that don’t want to go to the camps will notice us. Now that we are pulling a lot of good eating from the gardens, we will be a target. I’ve been pondering how to watch over everything and think we have a plan, we’ll just have to get it all set up.” He looked at Bill expectantly, like he was waiting for his approval.
“Well, when and where do you want to meet? I’ll leave all that to you since you have the background in that area and I’m just a farmer; growing gardens and wrangling the goats and chickens,” Bill told him.
“The sooner the better. How about this afternoon at your place, since a lot of us will be there to use your pump anyway.”
“That sounds good. Why don’t you get it rolling?” Bill was again thankful for having a neighbor like Russ; someone that saw a need and addressed it. But just call the meeting, Russ; I don’t need to okay it. As the other men left, Bill went back to hoeing, enjoying the feel of the sun on his back. I’m just a farmer.
The rest during the conversation had been very welcome. Although he tried not to let it show, he was getting fatigued a lot more than in the past. He was pretty certain it was from the thyroid medication not being the proper balance. As the fatigue had started to show, he had slowly increased the amount of dried pig and beef thyroid he was taking. So far he hadn’t managed to get the amount figured out but felt he must be getting closer.
*****
The plan Russ had put together had a rolling schedule of men and teens to watch the perimeter of the neighborhood. It was nothing elaborate, just watchers equipped with FRS radios. If scavengers were detected, the watchers would radio for assistance. One radio was in the home of a man with a shortwave that would alert the National Guard if needed. Confrontations could be handled by the trained men. As the group discussed the plan, Bill sat back and watched and listened. Security is definitely not my strong point. A few people wanted to shoot first if they encountered thieves. Others questioned the need at all; the people with both opinions glancing Bill’s way numerous times as if seeking his approval. In the end, a modified version of Russ’ plan was accepted.
As the conversation dwindled, Bill finally addressed the group. “Another bit of security we haven’t talked about is animals. When I went to the corn field this morning I saw a couple of raccoons run off. The corn is close to ripening and now that they have found it, they are going to be raiding us constantly and could make a huge dent in the crops if we let them. Instead of them eating our food, let’s make them our food.” This type of security, he was happy to address.
That statement caused a bit of a stir from a number of people. “Don’t tell me you would rather go to bed hungry,” Bill told one. As the man bit back his next comment, Bill continued, “I have had coon, and personally I like it. Besides, they are coming to us and most everyone could use more meat.” He laid out two books on trapping and snares for the group to look over. “Another good source of food is those rock chucks that live on the edge of the foothills. Unless you are going to be running down to the store and grab a package of meat, these are both good sources. And yes, I have eaten them too. I don’t think they are as good as coon, but hey, it’s all protein.
“One more thing I was wondering if you all still had the papers I gave you on how to make a well bucket. Not that I mind everybody using my well, but now that it is warm you can rig one of them up. You might save a little time and effort packing water. You just have to be careful not to contaminate your well. I should have brought this up some time ago, the wells and the varmints both. Sorry I didn’t think of it until now.”
Soon everyone was looking over the information on trapping and a few were looking at the drawings of well buckets. Russ looked back to Bill after looking over a well bucket design and passing it on. “This stuff is all good. So you’ve always got something going on to adapt to the changes. What else are you working on Bill?”
“Oh gosh, let me think.” Bill put his hand under his chin and looked like he was deep in thought. “Yeah, I do have a project or two in mind. I want to do a little plumbing project. As you all know, any water used in the house has to be carried in. After it is used for washing, dishes, showers and whatever else, I hate to let it down the drain since it can still be used to water plants. So if I use it to water, that means packing it back out. I am going to go under the house – which I absolutely detest by the way – and unhook the drains from the kitchen sink and the bathroom sink and tub, then run drain lines out through the wall into the beds against the house. Once the water is in the beds, I have some old hose that I can make into soaker hose to distribute it. This is something else I’ve been slow to get to, but with less attention needed in the gardening, I’ll get onto it soon.”
“I like that idea,” Russ said. “What about odors from the septic tank?”
“I think I have what I need to cut the lines and cap them. I don’t want to change it too much so if we ever get pressurized water back it will be easy to put back. Although if that day comes, I wouldn’t mind redoing the whole drain so I could switch it depending on the season. Without crawling under the house by the way.” The final comment drew some laughter.
“Well I have a huge pile of pipes and fittings. I’ll make them available to anyone that wants to change their drains.” Russ offered. “I’ll sure change mine over.”
“Then I want to build an outdoor stove and oven” Bill continued. “It is getting too dang hot to do the cooking inside, besides the traditional stove uses so much wood. I have plans for a brick rocket stove and oven I’m going to put together. Although I plan on using my solar ovens as much as possible, there are some things that I want to fry, and with the new stove, I can cook with just a couple of handfuls of sticks.”
“Hey, can you share those plans?” Paul, another neighbor asked. “I took up my brick and paver pathway to plant that area and now I just have them stacked against the garage. “I’d like an outdoor stove too, and seeing how Russ started out with an offer to share, I’ll make by bricks available too.”
“Thanks, Paul,” numerous men said almost together.
“Of course growing food to survive is still the priority,” Bill continued again. “And a direct extension of that is preserving that food for the winter. The age old way of doing that is through drying. So I want to put together a couple of solar dehydrators.”
“And your plan on that is what?” Mike asked.
“I have the one I made in the winter, but I want more capacity. Although I would love to have a couple of more like it, I don’t have everything I need on hand. So I am going to make some changes to my cold frames and utilize the frames and glass. I’ll put bottoms and screens in them and vent the ends. It will be far from fancy, but I think it will be effective with only a little extra material and effort. Then it can become a cold frame again when I’m ready for fall planting.
“Speaking of solar, I have a black plastic 50 gallon barrel. I’m going to build a stand for it and plumb it for an outdoor shower. Besides those things, getting in a winter supply of hay and firewood are both something we have to get working on soon.”
“So, you had to take time to think about other projects that need done,” Russ replied wryly. “It sounds like you have spent a lot of time on this already. So tell us about your plan for hay. Everyone here has benefitted from your livestock and I think we all need to help with feeding them.”
“Well, the first thing I want to do is take advantage of the public land. Have you guys noticed the park?” The backside of the neighborhood was bordered by a large park that had not been maintained since the crash. “Although the grass isn’t as high as pasture grass, it is getting pretty lush now. That’s why I haven’t pastured the animals there; I’ve wanted it to grow as much as it could before it needed irrigated. I think in about a week we will cut that. Along with that, there is a lot of alfalfa growing at the sides of the road on the other side of the park. We’ll take that too. If someone squawks about it, well, I guess we will ask forgiveness since we didn’t ask permission. We’ll cut my pastures too, since the animals aren’t using them. We can get two cuttings from the pastures, but only one from the park unless we start irrigating that.”
“Hey Bill,” Paul interjected, “Speaking of irrigation, I have a few spots at my place that are higher than the water wants to go. Do you have any ideas for that?”
“Well sure; you need to change religions. Haven’t you ever heard that some guys can make the water run uphill after praying?” Bill said with a huge smile. “But seriously, there are some options depending on what material we can scrounge up. Probably the easiest is to go up the ditch to where it is higher than your dry spots and start laying a water line and run it to where you want the water. Of course that takes a fair amount of pipe and hose. Another way is a water wheel. Around my grandparent’s old home, the canals were below the surrounding fields. The irrigation district had put in large water wheels that were pushed by the current and when turning, they picked up the water and poured it into the smaller ditches. Personally, I always loved watching them.” Bill thought back to the last time he had driven past the old farmhouse. The nearest water wheel was laying in pieces on the ground, replaced by a large electric pump. I hope they can reassemble that old wheel. It seemed so wrong, just lying there, just one more functional system replaced in the modern world. Kind of like a lot of the jobs in our country. “Another possibility, I think it’s called a Wirtz, or Spiral pump. They have a coil of hose or tubing, water enters the end and the current turns the coil, filling the hose with water and creating pressure as it fills. I think we could build some of those, depending upon available materials of course, and put them in the drain ditch.”
“And you have diagrams on them?” Paul asked.
“Yeah I do somewhere. I’ll try to locate them this evening.”
“You mentioned firewood Bill, “Mike interjected. I don’t think we can get by with the trees on the canal this winter.”
“No, we sure can’t. All the trees left there are green and should age for quite a while for good burning. Bob has been going to his place in the hills recently and is looking for dead wood. Hopefully he will have something in mind the next time we see him. Speaking of wood, how’s you pickup coming Russ?”
Russ had been copying the wood gasifier on Cal’s pickup and was close to having an operating unit. “I’m real close. I just need to talk to your Dad and brother about a couple of things and then finish it up.”
It was good to see another vehicle being made useable without gasoline that wasn’t in Bill’s family. Everyone in the neighborhood was now aware of the materials needed to make one and was constantly watching for them. A few had posted notices on the barter boards requesting items. Two men were pooling their resources to put a unit on a pickup they would share.
“Well, that’s a pretty good list of things Bill. Anything else?”
“Yep, get lots of rest so I can hit it all again tomorrow. That’s even more important since Russ has us up at night,” he said with an acknowledging grin and nod to Russ. “So, who wants to milk the cow and goats tonight?”
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Post by bretf on Jun 30, 2016 3:07:42 GMT
Chapter 27: Roseville Fair
Oh, the night was clear, the stars were shinin' The moon came up so quiet in the sky All the people gathered 'round, the band was tunin' I can hear them now playin', 'Comin' Through The Rye'
You were dressed in blue and you looked so lovely A gentle flower of a small-town girl You took my hand and we stepped to the music And with a single smile, you became my world
And we danced all night to the fiddle and the banjo Their drifting tunes seemed to fill the air So long ago, but I still remember We fell in love at the Roseville Fair
“Roseville Fair” Performed by Nanci Griffith Written by Bill Staines
Bob took off his sweat stained cap and wiped the layer of dust from his face, smearing the sweat into a light line of mud. He let out a long sigh as he joined Bill in the shade of the large pine tree. He dropped his hat and gloves, settled onto a block of wood and picked up his water bottle. As he unscrewed the cap he looked at Bill and asked, “So, are you doing alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a break and some water.”
“Uh huh. You seem to need more breaks than usual.”
The brothers were part of a group of workers that had been falling trees and cutting them into blocks since first daylight. Bob had returned from a trip to his cabin with news of the trees and arranged for the wood cutting and hauling group activity. It appeared that an infestation of bark beetles had attacked and destroyed a grove of mature pine trees. The beetles had been wreaking havoc across the western forests for years. The hot and dry summer of the previous year had obviously weakened this grove, making them especially vulnerable to the beetles. Never one to pass a wood tree next to the road, Bob nearly drooled when he located the grove. He returned home as quickly as possible and two days later, there they were. While men cut the trees to length, others were taking the wood to the valley, dropping it off and returning with empty pickups and trailers for their next load. This grove wasn’t enough for everyone for the winter, but added to other trees scattered along the mountain road, the area should yield enough burnable wood.
Not wanting to respond to Bob’s comment, Bill changed the subject. “This road’s kind of outa the way to the cabin,” he said; the question obvious in his voice. “So how’d you end up here?”
Bob took the water bottle from his lips and swallowed with a satisfied sigh. He knew Bill had purposely avoided the question. He’s trying to hide something. He took another drink of water and considered his response. I’ll let it slide for now. “Dad and I have been doing some horse trading. We’ve been putting a wood gas unit on the sheriff’s rig. Even though he can still get a requisition of gas, he has to drive into town to get it, taking up almost a half day by the time he’s done.” Bob grinned, “And we get to use his gas to run the generator. Anyway, we’ve been helping him out and let him know we needed a bunch of firewood to get through. He told us how to find this bunch of trees and a few more. Cultivating good will with the local authority seemed like a good idea if we were going to be running back and forth to the cabin. He’s pretty leery of strangers now since a number of the outlying farms have been raided. We figured it would be better if he knew us and we were in his good graces.”
“Makes sense,” Bill answered.
They sat quiet for a while; the light breeze helped to cool them as it blew across their sweat soaked shirts. Bob reached up and ruffled his short cropped hair to allow the breeze to reach his scalp. They were just standing to get back to work when they heard an approaching pickup, the empty trailer rattling up the bumpy gravel road; ready to be loaded with more firewood to make the next trip back to the valley. Once it was backed up to the blocks of wood, a group of men began loading it right away.
“You know, I’m pleasantly surprised with these guys. I really expected that once they saw what kind of work was involved for us to get by, a lot of them would cut and run to the shelters,” Bob said as they watched the trailer being quickly filled with wood. “I guess being cold and hungry made an impression on them. Add to that the stories that leak out of the less than desirable accommodations at the camps and your comment about SSS, they seem pretty committed.” He chuckled as he thought. “Alan said your comment sure shut up that one idiot. He thought you nearly made him wet himself.”
“Yeah,” Bill grinned. “He was the typical low level bureaucrat that believed everything the media told us and that those rednecks and survivalists were evil and would be the downfall of the country. The look on his face was priceless the last time he came and begged me for some food. I’d heard whispers that he might come over so I was cleaning that AK that Jim gave me to store when he came in. He asked for food, I asked how hard he was willing to work for it and seated a thirty round magazine and gave him a hard stare. He gulped hard, turned white, and turned and left. I heard he went to the camp that day. I’m sure he and all of his ilk are getting what they deserve in the concentration, oops I mean relief camps.”
“I think your intentional slip of the tongue is about right from what we are hearing.”
They each took one more long swallow from their water bottles and joined the group loading the trailer. The trailer was half loaded when the next empty pickup and trailer came noisily up the road. It was quickly loaded and the wood secured, then both loads started slowly back down the mountain. Each load had three men in the pickups and they traveled together, both for security and to have extra hands in case of problems.
The evening shadows were long when Bill climbed into the pickup with Bob and his dad to ride home with the last load of the day. The pickups had brought up camping gear for the men that would spend the night on the mountain and continue to work as long as the light allowed and hit it again early in the morning. They also had baskets of fresh vegetables, sourdough biscuits and another of cold fried chicken. Bill’s batch of young roosters was nearly gone, having graced numerous meals. But the bantams and a few of his buff orpingtons were raising new chicks. The early hatches from the bantams were growing quickly and the roosters would soon be the main feature on the dinner plate.
Although he would have liked to spend the night on the mountain, Bill was going home to his own bed. He had a rough time sleeping out now as various aches and pains would have him constantly rolling around and looking for a comfortable position all night. And if it was hard for him to sleep, Cal found it doubly hard, although he didn’t seem to have problems napping in the lawn chair that had been brought along for him. Once he had sat down, he could be asleep in moments.
Bill also considered the animals, but they were in good hands. They had nearly become community livestock as different people milked each day and were always willing to put them on new feed to extend the pastures. However, that wouldn’t stop him from checking on them in the morning.
After they made it down the mountain road and picked up speed on the highway, Bill said, “Wow, it sure looks odd, doesn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” Bob asked him.
“Well, we have the highway to ourselves. And there’s not anybody on the river.” The highway was the main north – south connection and always had a large volume of traffic before the crash. And the river that ran along it was a popular white water destination for people from all over the country. It looked foreign to Bill not to have cars in the parking areas along the road and see rafts and kayaks going through the rapids. The last time he had traveled the highway was the elk hunting trip with Bob. The bombings had been happening, but there was still a lot of traffic. The river had been dotted with a few people trying to get in one more float before winter cold set in.
Bob and Cal had made numerous trips up the highway and had become accustomed to the lack of activity. “I’ve gotten used to it now, but it sure was a shock the first few trips. Now it’s a surprise if we see someone else on the road. I have seen quite a few fishermen though. All of the good holes seem to have people living next to them.”
As Bob was saying that, the pickup passed a popular beach and swimming hole. Bill could see a tent on the sand and people standing around a smoldering fire. In the failing light Bill thought he made out a rack over the fire with clumps spread on it. “Speaking of fishermen, it looks like those guys are catching and smoking fish.”
“There’s a lot of that along the river now. I think catch limits went out with the electricity. The other fishing and hunting rules are being ignored too. Most of them have trot lines set up across the good holes.”
They continued on in silence as Bill thought about the people camped along the river, the FEMA camps and the camaraderie that his own neighbors had shown. The next thing he knew, Bob asked him if he was going to spend the night on the pickup seat or if he was going to get out and help unload the wood.
Bill straightened his stiff neck and looked out the window, taking a few moments to orient himself. “Wow, I guess I was tired to sleep all the way home.”
“I sure wish I had my camera. You looked so good there with your head bent back, mouth open and drool running down the side of your face. It would have made a great calendar picture.”
“Then I guess that’s one of the benefits of the crash. Although if you’re laughing at me, maybe it stops you from laughing at someone else.”
“Oh no, I can laugh at lots of people at the same time. Now, let’s get this load dumped off so we can go home.”
*****
Amy came to the door and gave Bill a long hug when he stepped into the house. “You look tired and dirty,” she told him. We made sure the shower had some hot water left in it. Why don’t you go clean up and I’ll make you something to eat.”
“Thanks Hon,” Bill answered, fighting a yawn. “The shower will feel good. I’m not very hungry though. Do you have any biscuits left? I can just have one with some honey. Why don’t you nuke it for me while I’m showering?”
“Don’t I wish! Now go get clean.”
After getting clean clothes and a towel, Bill went back outside to the tarped off area with the solar shower. It was a simple affair, just a black barrel on a stand with a shower head plumbed in with a shut off valve. A wooden grate was on the ground, keeping feet relatively clean while a person showered. A ladder was set up near the tank, with a funnel hooked to fittings into the large bung of the barrel. In the morning, someone would have to pump water and carry it in buckets from the pump house to refill the barrel. The water was still hot after the long day in the sun. Bill saw that it had been used earlier and mentally thanked whoever it was. The water at the bottom of the barrel was always cooler and he preferred the warmer water closer to the top.
He envied the set-up at his Dad’s house. Years ago, Cal had bought a windmill at an auction. They had set it up over a shallow well in the garden. Bob had run pipes from the windmill pump to keep a solar shower filled near the base of the windmill. He had incorporated the windmill’s structure to help support the barrel and the privacy tarp. Oh well, I don’t think anyone with a windmill would give it up now, so we’ll just have to keep packing buckets and climbing the ladder. The warm water was soothing and seemed to sluice away some of the weariness he felt along with the day’s grime.
As Bill sat at the table and relaxed over his biscuits and honey, he asked Amy, “What would you think of a neighborhood party, dance and barbecue? Everyone has been working so hard, I was thinking if we could put something together, it would be a welcome break and morale booster.”
“I think that’s a fabulous idea. Let’s do it. Now the barbecue part, what are you thinking?”
“Well, any good barbecue requires meat. I need to talk to Bob about that. Aside from that, though, I think I can find enough sweet corn for everybody. Umm, barbeque and the first corn on the cob of the year. It makes my mouth water just thinking about it,” Bill answered dreamily.
“Do you have any other vegetables secretly ripening? Tomatoes, cucumbers?”
“Actually, there are some in the hoop house that are real close. And that batch of pole beans I started in there are just about ready to pick. You know, maybe we shouldn’t talk about all this now, this biscuit is starting to taste pretty plain,” Bill said grinning.
“Your Dad’s generator still works, doesn’t it?” Amy asked.
“The last I heard it does. What are you thinking?”
“Making some ice. We could use it for the drinks, but more importantly, you could make some ice cream. If we had cake, pie and ice cream, that would be incredible.”
They both sat and thought for a while, and then Amy got a paper and pencil to start planning and writing down her thoughts while Bill took his plate to the sink, washed it and put it in the drying rack. He refilled his water glass and joined her at the table. He had just sat back down when Amanda and Brad came in the door. They had been at Mandy’s playing a board game until they could no longer see. They stayed to talk for a while, and then went home, locking the chickens up before going in the house.
“Hi Dad,” Amanda said when she saw Bill and went to give him a hug. “How was your day?”
“Hi Dad,” echoed Brad, although he wasn’t as generous with his hugs as his sister.
“Oh it was good; tiring, but a good day. A lot of work got done. We’re going to hit it again tomorrow, so you’ll have to handle the chores again.”
“Okay,” Amanda answered. “It sure is easier with all of those people helping. What are you working on Mom?” she asked when she noticed the paper.
“We’re thinking of having a neighborhood party. What do you think?”
“Amanda didn’t have to think long before she answered, “Great. When are we going to do it?”
“We haven’t figured that out yet, in fact we had just started to discuss it. But part of it would be a dance, and you guys are the closest thing we have to a band,” Amy told her. “So you get to provide the music.”
“But Mom, we’ve never done anything like that. Besides, if everyone else is having a good time, I don’t want to be stuck playing the fiddle.”
“You wouldn’t be playing the whole time. Besides, your Dad will be right there playing with you, isn’t that right Hon?”
Wow, way to put me on the spot. I say no, it gives them an out, I say yes and I have to make my first public appearance, shaking hands, wrong notes and all. Thanks a bunch darling! “Of course I’ll play with you. You need to put together a list of songs we all know that has variety in tempo. And who knows, there might be other musicians in the neighborhood that can join us or even give us a break. And your Mom can be up with us and sing,” Bill finished, smiling.
Amanda busted out laughing. “What do you want to do, Dad? Chase everybody home early? You know Mom can’t sing.”
“Well if we have to perform, why doesn’t she?”
“Because someone has to be hostess and watch over everything,” Amy answered innocently.
“Whatever. Okay Amanda, Brad, maybe you can find some songs that your cousins know or can learn. They aren’t afraid to sing.” Actually, Mellissa had been a big hit at the local karaoke bars. “Just remember, I can’t play a lot of the songs you two do,” Bill finished with a big yawn.
“Your Dad is tired and is leaving early again in the morning. Let’s all go to bed and we can work on more of the planning tomorrow. Bill, can you talk to Bob about it?”
“I guess so; if I don’t sleep all the way back up the mountain.”
*****
“So after your comment about how well everyone is working, I got to thinking about a way for them to get away from the grind for a bit and celebrate,” Bill told Bob the next morning as they were returning to the mountain.
“You must have dreamt it. You slept all the way home.”
“Well my mind keeps right on working even when I sleep. I don’t have time to shut it down.”
“Hope it didn’t give you a headache,” Bob grinned at him. “So what did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking about having a barbecue and picnic type feast, although I want to hear your thoughts for the barbecue part. We have a bunch of corn, tomatoes, green beans and cucumbers that will be ready to pick in about a week that we could serve. It just seems like a good reward for everyone after all the hard work they’ve done. Amy also wanted to know if you could make ice. Then we could make ice cream to go with pie and cakes. After the meal we could get the instruments out and try to play something they could dance to.”
Bob thought a while before answering. “I might be able to come up with something, but I’ll need that week or longer. After we finish with the wood, I’ll check it out.”
As the week of hard, dirty work on the firewood wrapped up, Bill was relieved to have such a major concern taken care of. There were large piles of blocks at everyone’s home. It all still needed split and stacked, but at least it was at each home, sitting out to dry in the summer sun. The final load was still on the trailer at Bob’s request.
Amy had been very busy, taking the idea of a party and running with it. As soon as Bill was available, she needled him to take her through all of the vegetable patches to finalize the meal plan. One morning Bob hooked the loaded trailer to his pickup and left early. He had discussed the tentative plans with Amy the evening before. When he returned, pulling an empty trailer, he let Amy know there would be meat at the barbecue but did not tell her more. The next morning he was gone again before daylight. Jim, Ken, Alan and Cal had gone with him, leaving word they would be back in a day or two. Bob and Cal disappearing for days at a time was a regular occurrence as they would go to the cabin and irrigate and work on improvements, but it was usually just the two of them. Bob definitely had something different planned this time to have taken the other men along.
Just the anticipation of the “First Harvest party”, as it was coming to be called was providing a spark of excitement to the neighborhood. As Bill was irrigating and weeding, he noticed that the other people were just plain happy. He had never seen that much cheer in the group.
*****
The morning chores were barely finished and Bill had just poured his first cup of coffee when Amy started rattling off what he needed to do before the party. “You need to rake under the cottonwood trees and get as much of your goat poop out as you can,” she said with an irritated tone. “After that, the big trailer needs parked against the fence and cleaned off.”
“The trailer? What do you want with it? We can set up tables for the food.”
“Yes, you’ll need to set up the tables too. The trailer is our makeshift band stand; you’ll need to stabilize it after it’s in place and make it so you can get up onto it easy. Bob is going to cook the meat in the barrow pit, but I don’t know what he needs. I need a wheelbarrow load of fuel at the outdoor stove to cook with. You need to fill some jugs and set them in the sun to pre heat for corn water. We need all the chairs gotten out and the dust cleaned off.” She paused while she consulted her list before telling more things that needed done. Wow, this is going to be a long day.
The preparations seemed to be coming together nicely when Bill slipped away. He considered not letting Amy know where he was, but decided she would make him regret it later so he told her his plan. He set up the reclining lawn chair in an out of the way shady spot, laid back and settled the head rest and was soon asleep.
*****
Feeling refreshed, but leaving the chair out in case it was needed again, Bill checked on the preparations. Amy had her portion well in hand but reminded Bill he still had to make ice cream. “And make sure you make some REAL ice cream from cow’s milk and cream. I don’t want your funky tasting goat stuff.”
“Sorry Hun,” he answered, almost, but not quite apologetically. “All I have is goat milk right now. You’ll have to sacrifice this time.”
“No, we have real milk and cream too. I talked to Russ this morning and made sure he left me enough,” she told him smugly.
Too smugly. The only response he could come up with that fit was “Yes Dear.” Knowing the conversation could only go downhill, Bill excused himself.
He walked to the front yard and saw Bob, not really surprised, knowing his brother’s resourcefulness. A bed of coals was built up under the full carcass of a young pig, suspended from a spit that was being slowly turned. A barbecue that had been made from a barrel was next to it with a fire inside, heating large cast iron griddles. Bob was at a table next to it, battering fish to fry. So, they had been cat-fishing while they were gone. I’m bummed I didn’t get to go. The family had traditionally spent many summer days on an area lake that was thick with the fish.
Seeing nothing else that required him, Amy really did have everything well in hand, Bill started on the ice cream after drafting the kids to crank. He looked longingly at the electric ice cream maker when he got the hand turned mixer off the shelf. Dang, I miss electricity. Soon he had the first batch going with the young arms taking turns cranking. The second and third batches were ready in mixing bowls when he left the operation to the kids and went to shower and change clothes.
*****
The air was alive with excitement, causing Mike to raise his voice to a near shout to get everyone’s attention. Once it had quieted down he asked a blessing on the evening’s activities. He had told Bill that it was his place to do it, but Bill insisted Mike do it for him. “Mike, I have a tough time with that. I can be in the garden and see God’s hand in everything and ramble on and on talking with Him. But when I ask for His Blessing with a large group, I get tongue tied and stammer through the whole thing.”
Following the blessing, the assembled group started filling their plates. Besides the roast pig and fried fish, there was a bounty of fresh vegetables, highlighted by the corn on the cob coated with the deep yellow Jersey cow butter. Carla had baked large platters of rolls that were a big hit. Conversations and happy banter flowed as the people enjoyed the finest meal most could remember. It doesn’t get any better than this, Bill thought as he looked over the contended people. Nearly everyone made it a point to come up to him and thank him for putting it all together. He responded that he hadn’t put it together, that was all Amy and Bob; he just planted the seeds in fertile minds.
After the meal was complete and the angle of the sun finally had the trailer in the shade, Amanda, after some gentle prodding from her mother, gathered her group of musicians to the trailer. Bill was surprised to see the group had grown. Besides their own family, two more guitar players were there, a stand-up bass and a second violin and; Wow, is that an accordion case? I haven’t heard one of those since Aunt Janet died. Mark had a battery powered keyboard and another man had a clarinet. This should be interesting.
While planning the party, Amy had put out feelers for any musicians in the neighborhood. After determining what the present group could and would play, she had gotten them together for practice while Bill’s group was off cutting wood. Although far from polished, they made a very passable ensemble once they began. The song list began with a fast paced hornpipe, moved on to an Irish Jig and slowed down the pace with an old waltz. Bill wanted to sit back and enjoy it all, but played along when he knew the songs. The asphalt road wasn’t the best dance surface, but it didn’t stop the more energetic people. They had all been working so hard, and it was time for many to let loose and have fun.
At a break in the music, Amy directed the dessert to be brought out. The ice cream was a big hit, as it had been non-existent since the crash. A number of ladies were interested in the recipe Frances had used in making pies from dehydrated fruit. All too soon for Bill, the dessert was cleaned up and Amy was calling for the music to begin. Just before getting back on the trailer, Jim brought Bill a cup to sample. He had been playing with homemade wine for years and had just finished his latest batch from rhubarb. Although it was drinkable, Bill found it incredibly sweet and would have been happier with a cold beer, but that was not to be had. That was probably a good thing. “Wow Jim, this one has an interesting flavor.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely different. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I hadn’t tried rhubarb before, but hey, it’s what is growing now. But I did use some of my canned grape juice with it. Now if I could just get the still finished and find a good source of corn,” Jim continued on as Bill climbed the ladder back to the trailer bed.
A few songs into the second set, Amy came to the trailer and beckoned to Bill. “Oh, you’re finally coming up to perform, huh? What song are you singing?”
“No my performance will be in private later,” she told him with a wink. “Now get up from there and dance with me.”
As Bill went down the step ladder against the trailer, Amy nodded to Amanda. Amanda passed a silent signal to the rest of the entertainers. As she started playing the next song, Mellissa began to sing;
It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart Without saying a word, you can light up the dark Try as I may, I could never explain What I hear when you don't say a thing
The smile on your face lets me know that you need me There's a truth in your eyes saying' you'll never leave me The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall You say it best when you say nothing at all
All day long I can hear people talking out loud But when you hold me near, you drown out the crowd Old Mr. Webster could never define What's being said between your heart and mine
It wasn’t exactly Alison, but Melissa did a good job. Of course Miss Krauss was one of a kind. “You remember don’t you?” Amy asked as she held tight to Bill and swayed to the rhythm.
“How could I forget?” he replied happily. The song from their first dance on the night of their wedding. He held her tight and swayed in step with her and thought of that other night and said a silent prayer for many more to come.
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Post by bretf on Jun 30, 2016 3:13:23 GMT
Chapter 28: His Hometown
When he was a boy, sittin’ in school, Starin’ out the window at the fields he knew, All that he wanted was to be there too, Drivin’ his tractor through the morning dew.
Dust from the sun, mud from the rain, Felt like an honor to him all the same. It’s the simplest thing, he’s a self-taught man, He loves his work because he loves the land.
He can change the hills, plant the trees, Dig the wells, spread the seeds, Mow the fields, plough the streets, In his home town.
The seasons roll by, year after year. He’s worked all his life and he’s worked right here. The winter’s go slow if the snows don’t come, ‘But it’s soon to be summer when the tractors hum.
Blessed is the soul who has truly found Something to rest on while the world turns ‘round. I think he’d say this is how he feels When the dark earth is turning underneath his wheels.
“Hs Hometown” Performed by Cheryl Wheeler Written by Cheryl Wheeler
The First Harvest Party was a happy memory as the work ramped up again. The gardens began producing prolific amounts of ripe vegetables, many of which needed preserved for the coming winter. Bill’s modified solar dehydrators had been copied and were set up around many houses throughout the neighborhood. With the apricots already dried and packaged, green beans, summer squash, sweet corn and tomatoes were common sights in the driers. Everyone that had a supply of Mason jars was also filling and storing them.
As Amy carried a basket of laundry to the washtubs that had been filled and set up under the cottonwood trees, she looked over to see what Bill and the kids were working on. “Just what are you planning on doing with all of those crab apples? I don’t remember eating them and besides, they don’t even look ripe yet.”
A tub was set up on the table next to the outdoor stove, filled with the small apples that Bill had the kids washing, sorting and putting into a large stock pot. “I’m going to make pectin with them. We really went through our stock with the raspberry jam.” Not to mention what I gave away. “There is enough other stuff going to ripen soon that we can make into jam and syrup, so we’re going to be needing more.”
“Let me guess, Bob told you the chokecherries are getting ripe?” Amy asked wryly. She had never developed Bill’s preference for chokecherry syrup on sourdough pancakes.
He grinned back at her, still amazed how she could figure out what he was thinking. Sometimes anyway. “No, he didn’t tell me they are getting ripe. He only told me that a few patches are really loaded and we should be able to pick a bunch if we hit it at the right time.”
“So is this going to take all day? I was hoping we could make some spaghetti sauce and can it after I get the laundry done. The kids really liked that last batch we made and I want to make a lot of it while everything is ripe.”
“No, it shouldn’t take too long. Once we have it cooking, I can send the kids out to start picking. I need to cook the apples down for a while and then strain off the liquid. I’ll test it with some rubbing alcohol and if everything is right, we’ll put it in jars.”
“Test it with alcohol? Just how do you do that?”
“You put a little rubbing alcohol in a cup or bowl and then put in a teaspoon full of my liquid. If it is concentrated enough, it will thicken and I can lift it out with a fork. If it stays runny, I’ll have to cook it down some more. But anyway, I won’t need the kids for it once we get the apples cleaned and in the stock pot, so you can have them start on sauce.”
“That sounds good. And with you working so close, when you aren’t stirring your brew, you can take turns with me on the wash board,” Amy answered sweetly.
“Yes Dear. As you wish, Dear.”
Once the apples were over the fire, Bill joined Amy and Frances at the laundry tubs. “So has Bob mentioned the elderberries?” Amy asked. “With the drug stores closed, I was hoping we could get some of them this year.”
“Yeah, he said they are really loaded. We missed getting the blossoms, but we should be able to get a lot of the berries when they start to ripen.” Most years, when Bill was on his elk hunting trips, he came home with buckets of the purple berries. After washing them, he stripped the berries from the clumps with a wide toothed comb, picked out most of the remaining stems and dehydrated them. The dried berries were put into Mason jars and vacuum sealed. I guess the vacuum pump is out this year. I’ll have to work on that. At the first sign of cold or flu symptoms, he would grind some berries and make tea, adding a small amount of cinnamon and honey to each cup. He thought it was a great help to get over winter sickness.
“Good, we need to make sure we get them this year. Your stock is getting a little low since you didn’t get any last year with your bad leg. What about that other stuff you made with them, that elixir?”
“To make that, I soaked the berries in vodka. I might be able to locate some, but I wouldn’t count on it.”
“That’s okay; let’s just plan on dehydrating them. That seemed to work pretty well.”
The work progressed and the day’s activities ended with a nice display of jars of pectin and spaghetti sauce and clean, folded laundry. “So what’s on the list for tomorrow?” Amy asked as the family sat around the picnic table eating dinner.
“There are a lot of cucumbers ready.” He held up the fresh cucumber that had been aimed for his mouth as an example. “Why don’t we make a batch of pickles? The temperature in the root cellar is about right that we could start a crock full fermenting. Then we could make you some bread and butter.”
“Okay. We need to think about doing a bunch of soup again too.” As they continued eating, Bill thought about the gardens and fields that were producing. Even though they were now growing almost all of their food, he felt they would be very well stocked once the cold season hit. Maybe even a little better than last year.
After eating, Bill went to the wood pile to split wood until darkness stopped him. Although there were times he missed using the hydraulic wood splitter, he enjoyed using the axe and maul for short periods each evening.
The failing daylight finally forced him from the wood pile so he showered, shaved and put on clean clothes. It was cooler outside than in the house so he joined the rest of the family settled on lawn chairs under the trees. He had no more than gotten situated when Amanda began swatting mosquitos.
“These mosquitos are horrible tonight,” she nearly whined. “Mom, do we have any more Off?”
“No honey, we used it all a couple of nights ago. I guess if they are too thick, you could always put on long sleeves or go in the house.”
“But it’s hot in there tonight.”
“You want to try something more natural?” Bill asked her.
“I guess so, if it works. But you’re not going to make me stink are you?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” he said as he walked off in the direction of the herb beds. When he came back he had some leaves from the lemon thyme and the catnip. “Try rubbing these on your skin. They are both pretty effective against mosquitos,” he said as he handed a few leaves to each person.
Amanda took the leaves and smelled them. “You are trying to make me stink!”
“It’s your choice,” he said as he rubbed some leaves on his exposed hands and face. “Tomorrow let’s take a bunch of the catnip leaves and chop them up and steep them with some boiling water. We can put that in a spray bottle and spray it on our clothes. It won’t be as concentrated so you shouldn’t stink as much,” he said as he looked at her and pinched his nose.
Yet another mosquito landed on her and she saw they were avoiding everyone else. “Fine!” she snapped and started to rub the leaves over her skin after smashing her latest victim.
“Are you done pouting?” Amy asked her, then handed her the fiddle, followed by passing the guitar and mandolin to Brad and Bill. “Because I’m ready for some music.”
“That’s just because you don’t play it,” Amanda answered in a petulant tone. Bill instantly directed a stare at her that was even effective in the near darkness. “Sorry Mom. I just don’t like being eaten up by bugs,” she said.
“Well your Dad gave you a solution, so let’s make it better tomorrow. Now how about that new Irish Aire you guys have been working on.”
When the music started, it was like a neon “Open” sign had been turned on. Neighbors started arriving with their lawn chairs and arranged them in an ever-widening half circle facing the musicians. I wonder how long they’d stay if we warm up the banjo? It had become nearly a nightly occurrence for them to sit down, start playing and soon have an audience. Some nights, other musicians joined them, sometimes not. I guess entertainment is pretty hard to come by now if they’re willing to listen to me play. Bill had managed to get over his stage fright from the Harvest Party and was getting a lot better playing in front of other people.
*****
When Bill rolled over in bed he looked at his nightstand. Yep, the clock is still dark. He rose up enough to see through a crack in the blinds. The first light of pre-dawn was showing so he got quietly out of bed, picked up his clothes and went into the living room to dress.
After he relieved himself into the plastic juice jug he filled the wash basin from the bucket and was jolted awake by the cool water as he washed his face and hands. He filled the percolator and took it outside and started the fire and set the coffee to brew. He set out a basin of clean water near the fire to warm for the ladies. They still wanted warm water.
While the coffee brewed he went to milk Mischief. The goat was definitely attached to him. If someone else milked her more than two times together her production dropped, but she stayed constant as long as Bill took care of her himself. Funny old goat. The rest of the animals stayed constant regardless of who milked them. Once the milk was taken care of, he removed the coffee pot from the direct heat and put the wash basin in its place. He sat and drank a cup of coffee while enjoying the sun rising over the eastern mountains. As he was close to finishing, Mike came down the driveway, bucket in hand to milk the cow.
After Bill rinsed his cup he started the day’s activities in earnest. He picked enough catnip to make mosquito repellent, then began picking vegetables for soup. As he pulled carrots and admired them, he made it a point to thank the Lord for His Blessing. This sure beats sitting in front of a computer. Surrounded by all of the plants growing, hearing the chickens, he felt so much more alive than he ever had in an office.
Mike came from the barn and walked to the fence dividing the goat pasture from the garden. “What a glorious morning, huh Bill?”
Bill’s hand kept moving as he looked over to Mike and answered, “Yep, this is my favorite time of the day, seeing everything come to life.” His hand reached right over the wasp on the carrot stem. “Ow,” he spat out, nearly letting out a rare curse as the wasp stung him. He looked over the spot then went to the end of the garden where he allowed plantain to grow. After picking a leaf he wiped it off and put it in his mouth and chewed it into a green pulpy glob. He spit it into his good hand then clasped it over the sting. The relief was nearly immediate. He mentally upbraided himself for his carelessness. After the previous fall’s scratch on the leg, he had to be mindful of everything when he was working.
“Gee, Bill, sorry to distract you,” Mike apologized.
“That’s alright. It’s my own fault for not watching what I was doing. This stuff will fix it pretty quick though.” Bill answered.
“So that’s why you let those ones grow. I’ll have to remember what they look like. Well, I better get going. Leslie wants to can some corn today. Have a good one.” Mike headed out the gate and down the driveway.
As the pain from the sting went away, Bill continued to fill boxes and milk crates with fresh vegetables, making sure he watched his hand placement every time. Soon, he decided he had enough picked and put everything in the wheel barrow and took it to the back yard. Now comes the experiment time. No two batches of soup they prepared were ever the same. It was all dependent on what was ripe at the time.
He was back at the table under the trees cleaning vegetables, hearing occasional stirring in the house as the others got up. He was startled when Bob came up quietly from the other side. “Soup day again, huh?”
“Oh….yeah. We’re gonna can up a batch today.”
“So how do you go about making your soup and how long do you can it? Bob inquired.
“I usually just pick whatever is ripe and try to figure out what I want more or less of. Most of the time, it has some sort of tomato base. We also pulverize a bunch of zucchini for thickener. We put everything together in the stock pot and let it cook together for a while, seasoning and adding herbs as we go until we get something we like. We try not to cook it too much at this point because it still needs to cook for a long time in the canner. When we can it, we look up the processing time for every individual item, pick the longest, and that’s how long we run the canners at pressure.”
“Sounds good. Maybe Dad and I can do a bunch of it one of these days. So anyway, in your piles of paperwork, do you have anything on getting the oil from black oil sunflowers?” Bob asked.
“Yeah, I think I should have plans somewhere for an oil press. Why, did you come into some seeds?”
“No, we planted some up on the mountain. We saw how the wild ones always seem to grow on a lot of those slopes without irrigation so we put in a bunch in a field we haven’t run the water to yet as an experiment. We really didn’t know what to expect for yield, but figured if it worked out, they could be used for feed or pressed for cooking oil or even bio-diesel.”
“Speaking of diesel, what’s the status of the cat?” Bill asked. Bob had a small bulldozer at the cabin. It was used to push snow, skid logs, grade the road and push rocks. It was also the last vehicle they counted on that still required refined fuel.
“About the same. I’m having a devil of a time trying to find everything we need to put a wood burner on it. I think too many people have seen ours and the others we’ve helped build and are snatching up any parts that can be found. I’m not giving up, but I’m starting to doubt that we can get one on it anytime soon. With all of the harvesting and canning, I probably won’t have a chance to hunt for parts for another month or so, if then. You know how thing go.”
“Boy, don’t I,” Bill answered. “So now we better hope your sunflower experiment is successful.”
Bob followed Bill into his shop and started looking through the binder he was handed. “We’re heading back up today and I think we’ll pick all of the sunflower heads we can. I saw the birds were starting to work them so we thought we’d pick them before there aren’t any left. Alan and Ken are going too this time. Those hills are getting pretty hard climbing for Dad.”
“Well, they’re hard climbing for me too.”
Finally the documents were located and Bob was sure he could replicate the press. Their grandpa’s grinder that was used to crack corn should work perfectly as a de-huller. Bob removed the papers and left, eager to get to the mountain. There would be no need to build a press if there weren’t enough seeds to justify it.
After Bob left, Bill returned to the soup preparation that was now being worked on by the rest of the family. Their quiet conversation stopped at the rare sound of an approaching vehicle. They looked up to see a dirty crew cab pickup driving slowly down the road. “I wonder who that is.” Amy questioned.
A young man who appeared in his twenties was driving, accompanied by a middle aged man in front and another young man in the back seat. “I don’t have any idea. I’ve never seen that rig before,” Bill answered. As it passed the house he noted the license plate. “They’ve traveled a ways to get here, though; Washington plates.”
Bill laid the knife his knife on the cutting board and walked to the roadside to continue to watch the pickup. A short distance down the road the brake lights came on and the pickup stopped, then backed up to the house the Roberts family now occupied. After another pause, the pickup pulled into the driveway. Uh oh. I wonder if that’s a relative of Martin and Colleen. Bill feared there might be an ugly confrontation if it was in fact some of Martin’s family, finding the house occupied by strangers. He told Amy he was going to go see what was up. I guess I’m responsible for them being in the house.
Before he had made it far, Phil Roberts walked around the house carrying a shovel, wet irrigator boots on his feet. Phil looked at the pickup and the three men that were now emerging from it. Suddenly, he threw the shovel down and ran to the oldest of the men and pulled him into a crushing hug. I guess it won’t get ugly after all.
Bill turned and went back and informed Amy what he had seen and continued preparing vegetables for canning.
*****
The screen door slammed with so much force, Amy was concerned something might have broken. Ready to lash out at the culprit, she instantly changed her mind when she saw the stricken look on Amanda’s face. With tears streaming down her face, Amanda ran to Amy and wrapped her arms tightly around her bewildered mother.
“What’s happened? Are you hurt?”
Amanda continued to cry and sobbed out barely legible, “She’s……leaving.”
“What are you talking about? Who’s leaving?”
“Mandy,” she got out before another round of sobs and tears rendered her further speechless.
“Honey, you’ve got to calm down and make some sense. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Amanda continued to cry on Amy’s shoulder for a little longer, than stepped away. She wiped at her face with her hand then took out a handkerchief and noisily blew her nose. After a few more sniffles, she began, “Those guys we saw drive by...” her sentence was interrupted by another round of sobs. “They were Mandy’s uncle and cousins. They live out in the sticks, somewhere in Washington on the farm Mr. Roberts grew up on. Most of their family has moved back there. They came here to get Mandy and her parents and take them back.” She stopped talking as another round of tears and sobs erupted from her.
Amy could not find the words of comfort that were needed. Instead she thought about how unfair it all was. As a mother she wanted to keep her kids safe and happy. It was wrenching to see Amanda hurting so much. On top of the crash and primitive living conditions, to lose her best friend and constant companion was, well, it was just unfair. Bill’s words to the kids when they claimed something wasn’t fair came to her. “A very important thing you need to know is life’s not fair. It’s up to you to deal with it the best you can. Look at your obstacles as opportunities and come out stronger for it.”
But Bill, I don’t see how she can come out of this stronger. Amy pulled her distraught daughter close and held her as she cried herself out.
They were still clinging to each other; Amanda emitting occasional sobs when Bill entered the house. “So, I see you’ve heard the news,” he said.
Amanda raised her head and gave her dad a stricken look, “Dad, why do they have to go?”
“They want to be with their family Sweetheart. You know how much support we have here with your uncles, grandpa, and the rest of the family. They are going to have that. Uncle Bob and Uncle Alan do so much to help us and we work together so well because we always have. We are usually a finely meshed team. I always know I can trust them. That is very important, especially now. Mr. Roberts needs the same security for his family.”
“But we can be their family,” Amanda pleaded.
“It’s just not the same. Mr. Roberts has worked very hard to be a part of our group but he has always felt like an outsider. He feels going home will be the best for his family.”
A knock at the door interrupted them. Phil Roberts was standing there, his hat in his hand, accompanied by the three recent arrivals. “Hi Phil,” Bill greeted him and stepped outside into the shade of the house. “The stories are running strong that this would be your brother.” Up close, the family resemblance was obvious.
“Yes, this is my brother John and his sons Jack and Jeff.” Bill shook hands all around. “You might have also heard that we will be going back to Washington with them,” Phil continued after the initial greetings were made.
“I had heard that,” Bill said. “We’ll be sorry to see you go. You were a great addition to the neighborhood and I know you’ll be missed. However I understand about family. I don’t know what I’d have done without all my family here.”
“Most of the family has returned to the farm. It has running water for most of the fields and is pretty secluded. We should be able to do well there. But you have set up some things here that John doesn’t have. I was hoping that we could share a lot of your ideas with him and the boys before we leave.”
“Most of the things we’ve done haven’t been my ideas, it’s just things I’d learned about and saved the information,” Bill answered. “But sure, you can show him around. Where do you want to start?”
“Quit being modest, Bill. Maybe the initial ideas weren’t yours, but getting them all utilized and improving on them is all because of you. Everyone is this neighborhood would be lost without you, maybe with the exception of your brothers. Now, as to where to start. I think the wood gasifiers would be a great place. John had to scrounge long and hard to come up with enough gas for a round trip here. No one in his area is using anything like those wood burners. It would be invaluable to get them mobile again, but more importantly to get the equipment back in the fields. After that, the winter harvest features and, well, let’s just try to show him as much as we can if that’s all right.”
“Okay, but Bob is the expert on the gasifiers and he is up on the mountain now. But we can look over the units on the pickups and the tractors.” Bill led the group first to his pickup and gave a very brief explanation and told them to look it over well. Then once they were looking, he went to his shop to find some of the paperwork he had printed out on the units. He also found a red pen that John and his sons could make notes of deviations Bob had made from the drawings. After they were done there, the group walked to Bob and Cal’s home to let the newcomers look over the Allis Chalmers tractor and its wood burning set up.
From there, the group returned to Bill’s house and toured the greenhouse; John was especially interested in the rocket stove used to heat the ground. They saw the hoop houses and Phil explained about the extra layers of weed barrier and plastic that had been used, as well as the concept of heat reservoirs. From the hoop house they went and looked at the growing plants and noted the heavy leaf mulch around the potatoes. John pointed out the poppies and asked about them. Bill’s answer was brief, “Pain killers if the drug companies and pharmacies don’t get back into operation.”
Phil raised his eyebrows questionably at Bill’s answer but didn’t press any further.
They continued to walk, looking at the solar ovens and dehydrators; stopping to look closely at the clay pot evaporation coolers and got a thorough explanation of their function. After seeing the root cellar and the lights in the chicken house, they ended up beside the outdoor stove and oven. Bill directed the visitors to lawn chairs as Amy brought glasses of tea for them. “Sorry I can’t give you ice tea, but I call it “kinda cool tea.””
“I sure like what you’ve done here, Bill.” John said. “I think we’ll try to incorporate some of your ideas at home. Especially the wood power and the winter gardening.”
“And Bill, I certainly appreciate everything you did for my family,” Phil said. “I don’t know how we would have survived in that subdivision if you hadn’t brought us here. And I shudder to think about what might have become of Mandy and Lois in one of the camps.” He stopped talking; clearly battling strong emotions. Soon he was able to continue on, “It makes me feel a little guilty to be leaving with so much yet to be done.”
“No need to feel guilt, Phil,” Bill answered. “I only wish we could have helped more people out. As it is, you have worked harder than anyone else here. You’ll be greatly missed.
“So I’m curious, John, what was traveling like to get here and when do you guys plan on leaving?” he asked.
“We were concerned we might run into trouble getting here, but luckily things went well. The Guard has the freeways monitored and the Columbia River bridges well-guarded. The feds have been using the main highways so they don’t want to see their trucks picked off.” John paused, thinking before continuing. “There was also a check station at the Snake River bridge at Ontario. They check everyone out pretty thoroughly that they see. We had letters from our sheriff and the local Guard unit, so we were able to travel fairly easily. Not pre-crash easy, but not too bad under the circumstances. They also warned us away from a few spots where the riff-raff has managed to elude them so far.
“Our biggest problem was finding Phil once we got here. We got to their place about dark and of course didn’t find anyone there. The close houses were also vacant so we couldn’t ask anyone. The house showed signs of being ransacked, but we went in, and after making sure there was no one there, we spent the night there. When it was light, I wondered long and hard how to locate Phil. Then I got to remembering how we hid notes for each other when we were kids. After that, it didn’t take long to find the note he’d left me.”
John took a long drink from his glass of tea before continuing. “We’re hoping to get everything ready tonight and take off at first light tomorrow. There’s not a whole lot to load so it should be doable.”
“So now that you’ve seen our set-up,” Bill said, “What are you doing different that we might be able to use?”
“Not a whole lot, since you’ve got those tractors running on wood. We’ve been doing most of our field work with horses. We still had my grandpa’s equipment and harnesses from when he started farming the place. After Dad retired from running the farm, he restored everything and has been raising and selling work horses for the last few years. We’ve just put the horses back to work full time. We’ve also got a nice bunch of beef cattle. Dad has been teaching us how he lived as a kid so it hasn’t been too rough on us.”
They were quiet for a while before Bill spoke again, “My dad has been invaluable to us too. Under the circumstances I think our elders are our greatest resource. We need to get as much information from them as we can, while we still can.”
The men were interrupted by Amy. “Phil, you and your family are going to have supper with us tonight,” she spoke matter-of-factly, leaving no room for discussion. As she started the fire in the outdoor rocket stove, Jack and Jeff moved to where they could watch closely. After she placed a pan over the fire, Jeff asked, “So that’s it? You’re going to cook with that little bunch of sticks?”
As Amy explained to the younger Roberts men, Bill told their Dad, “That’s the beauty of the rocket stove. We’ve just used the trimmings from the trees for the cooking this summer instead of what I call real firewood.”
“Dad, we’re going to have to build one of these at home,” Jack interjected.
“What have you been using for cooking?” Bill inquired.
“Once it got hot, we just packed the wood cook stove onto the back porch. That was another thing Dad had held onto and packed away in the barn. We cleaned it all up and set it up back in the house at the crash. We figured we could pack it back in the house when the weather cools off. But I sure like the idea of a permanent set-up outside, not to mention all the wood we don’t have to split.”
Lois arrived, followed by two red-eyed girls. Amanda and Mandy were both finding the situation difficult to deal with. In a short time Amy was directing everyone to wash up and fill their plates. The fresh mashed potatoes were topped with canned elk roast that had been heated in brown gravy. Platters were filled with vegetables from the garden, another platter loaded with sourdough biscuits Amy had just removed from the outdoor oven.
Once everyone was seated around the two tables, Bill asked everyone to join hands. “Dear Lord, we come to You in thanks for all of the blessings You give to us. You have blessed us with this meal and You have blessed us with these wonderful friends sitting here. Thank you. I ask for Your Blessing on this meal. And I ask You for travel mercies for the Roberts family as they make their way home tomorrow. In Jesus Name, Amen.” Bill thought someone else could have done a better job with the prayer, but he had hit the points he wanted to.
As the meal progressed, Bill and John continued to talk, each trying to glean anything they could from the other. At the other end of the table, the girls were finding it difficult to eat. Soon, Amy and Frances had cleaned everything up and the Roberts clan felt they needed to leave to finish packing and loading. Hugs, firm handshakes and tears were shared before the group made their way through the gate and down the road.
*****
Amy looked up at the sound of someone knocking on the door and saw Mark standing there, looking about half afraid. “Come on in Mark. What can I do for you?” she asked him.
Mark started to respond in a stammering delivery, “Well . . . I haven’t seen . . . Amanda in a few days . . . I guess since Mandy left. I . . . uh . . . found some quotes in one of Mom’s books . . . I thought she might like.” He finished and shoved an envelope towards Amy.
“Why that is so thoughtful of you Mark. Amanda is out at the bee hives with her dad. Would you like me to call her in?” Amy asked.
“Uh, no ma’am . . . that’s alright. You can just give it to her,” he got out as he was backing towards the door.
To put it in one of Bill’s comments, that boy looks as nervous as a prostitute in church. “I’d be happy to pass it on to her Mark. But I’m sure it would mean more coming from you.”
Mark was already out the screen door and Amy could not make out his response as he moved quickly to the gate. She watched his retreating shape then held the envelope up and scrutinized it. I wonder . . .
*****
Amanda looked at the envelope her mother had given her, puzzled. She was in her bedroom after cleaning up from helping her dad remove a full honey super from each bee hive. It was so hot to be all suited up at this time of year, she had rushed to get the bee suit off and shower. Not to mention the smoke. She hadn’t taken time to look at the envelope, just dropped it on her night stand. Now she looked closely at the envelope. It was slightly crumpled, but had her name on the front in precise lettering.
The paper in the envelope was in the same precise lettering.
“Amanda, I know you are feeling down because Mandy is gone. I found these sayings in one of Mom’s books I thought you might like:
“Odd how much it hurts when a friend moves away – and leaves behind only silence.” Pam Brown
“Seasons change, friends move away and life goes on from day to day. Flowers fade and streams go dry and many times we wonder why. Yet we can always be assured because God tells us in His Word, that unlike changes in the weather, love goes on and lasts.” Author unknown.
And then I thought of these two: Psalm 34:18 and Matthew 5:4.
Your Friend, Mark.”
Amanda looked at the note again. Thanks Mark, you’re a pretty good friend too. She opened her Bible and found the verse in Psalms and read, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” She reread it, and then printed it out on the paper. In Matthew she read, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” That verse was also written down.
Yes Mandy is gone, but there is my family, the neighbors, Mark. What a comfort to be surrounded by so much love even when losing someone so close. She read the note one more time, wiped a tear and wedged the note into her mirror frame. Thanks Mark, my very good friend.
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Post by bretf on Jun 30, 2016 10:52:30 GMT
Chapter 28: Grown Men Don’t Cry
Keep having this dream about my old man I'm 10 years old, and he's holding my hand We're talkin' on the front porch watchin' the sun go down But it was just a dream He was a slave to his job and he couldn't be around So many things I wanna say to him But I just placed a rose on his grave and I talk to the wind
I'm sittin' here with my kids and my wife And everything that I hold dear in my life We say grace and thank the Lord, got so much to be thankful for Then it's up the stairs and off to bed and my little girl says "I haven't had my story yet" Everything weighin' on my mind disappears just like that When she lifts her head off her pillow and says, "I love you dad"
And I don't know why they say grown men don't cry I don't know why they say grown men don't cry, don't cry
“Grown Men Don’t Cry” Performed by Tim McGraw Written by Steve Seskin and Tom Douglas
July 10, 2017
The preparations for the” Fourth Annual First Harvest Party” were nearly done and the neighbors that hadn’t already been hanging around for a better part of the day were arriving. The neighborhood now treated the event as a holiday. Only essential work was accomplished as people visited together, anticipating the afternoon and evening’s activities. Fourth annual, really? Wow, it seems like everything has gone so quickly. While Bill took a breather, he surveyed the people that were gathering and talking excitedly. Many of the faces were new, relatives of the families moving in together. A slow trickle of additions had been showing up since FEMA had relaxed movement from the relief camps. There were also many faces missing. The most painful absences were Bill’s Dad and Mom. Cal had gone through the second winter without power and passed away early in the following summer. Their absence left Bill with an emptiness that he knew he would never be able to fill.
*****
The corn was growing nicely and Bob and Cal decided it was time to run the cultivator through it. They had just gotten the implement hooked onto the Ford tractor when Bill arrived. “Hey, that’s good timing, huh,” he said.
“I guess so,” Bob answered. “So how long did you have to sit out there and watch us before you showed yourself?”
“Quite a while actually. You sure were making me tired watching you. I thought I was going to have to take a nap to give you time to get done,” Bill told him with a grin.
“Do you think you can strain yourself and walk down to the field and open the gate for me?” Bob asked. “And while you’re at it, you can carry a chair for Dad. That is if you can manage to carry it and your shovel at the same time.”
“Wow, you’re trying to make me bust a sweat, aren’t you. I will need a nap,” Bill said as he stifled a fake yawn. He picked up a nearby chair and started to the field with Cal.
“The corn is sure looking good this year,” Cal said as they were walking. “I think that fall green manure you had us plant was a good idea.” They continued towards the field, Cal going on about this field or that, never at a lack of words when he was talking about farming and gardening. After Cal was settled to supervise Bob’s work as he drove the tractor down the rows of corn, Bill left them to check the irrigation water running in the squash field.
As he walked along the rows making sure the water was running where he wanted, Bill breathed deeply of the fresh morning air. It doesn’t get much better than this. The sun was bright in the clear early summer sky, the temperature very comfortable in the low seventies. It would get hot enough in the afternoon that he would be seeking shade. But for now he relished the great morning. He found a few weeds to pull as he irrigated but overall the field was mostly weed free. The neighborhood gardeners had been very diligent. He also kept a close watch for squash bugs, but didn’t see any or detect any damage from their presence. The ring of nasturtiums and icicle radishes around each plant were effective so far. He had found they were a great deterrent as long as the foliage didn’t get too overgrown. In the past, that was caused by weeds in his garden or planting things too close together.
With the water flowing where it needed to for the next hour or so, Bill shouldered his shovel and walked back to the corn field. Cal’s head was bent down, his chin resting on his chest. He probably fell asleep right after I left. Cal was napping more and more, not taking long to fall asleep after settling on a chair. Bill walked quietly towards his sleeping father and watched as Bob completed the pass he was on, turned the tractor and started down the next set of corrugates. As the sound of the tractor slowly faded Bill stood beside the chair and inhaled the scent of freshly turned soil. That dirt smells so….good. The silence around him eventually registered in his brain; actually the absence of Cal’s soft snores; he always made noise while sleeping. Bill turned and knelt next to the chair and took up his dad’s hand. The hand was cool to the touch and there was no rhythmic movement to his chest. Bill turned the cool hand and checked for a pulse, not surprised to find it absent. His eyes misted over as he looked at his still father. Well Dad, you sure picked a nice way to go. Dang, I’ll miss you! Make sure you hug Mom for me.
The tears flowed freely with the sound of the tractor growing louder as Bob approached the near end of the field. Bill walked over and intercepted him and explained what he had just found.
Cal was buried next to his bride of over sixty four years in the corner of Bill’s garden. Nearly the entire neighborhood turned out for the services, standing across the fence in the goat pasture so they wouldn’t harm the garden plants.
*****
Bill wiped at his eyes as he continued to survey the gathering people. The memory still choked him up. Besides his parents, many more of the elderly were missing: Eunice, Frank, and others. The crash was especially hard on the elderly; most had been on some form of maintenance medication that was cut off.
Of the people that now were present, there was a strong healthy glow that had been missing prior to the crash. The couch potatoes and computer nerds had been transformed by hard work and exposure to the elements. As Mark walked past carrying a table and joking with Amanda and Brad, Bill couldn’t help but compare him to the shy, nervous boy he had first met. Instead the young man was tall and fit and confident. The girls standing around were giving him moon eyes as he easily set up the table. Wow, they better not see the look Amanda is shooting them. Amanda was directing a strong glare at the other girls as she walked over and took one end of the table with Mark.
“Here, let me help you,” she said as they moved it to a mostly-level spot. She then asked for his help spreading the table cloth she had dropped on the table. The look she flashed at the watching girls was a taunting smile. A little of Mark’s confident air left as he accepted the help. To Bill’s observation, he saw a little of the shy nervous youngster reappear.
*****
After Mandy had moved away, Amanda had gravitated back to Brad and Mark. The three did everything together. Even as new people moved in with kids near in age, the three stayed tight. One morning Amanda had found Bill in the garden and stated matter-of-factly, “Dad, you do know, its Mark’s birthday in two days, don’t you?”
“Uh, no I didn’t know that.”
“Well it is, and I think we need to give him a birthday surprise,” she stated.
“Really, and what did you have in mind?” Bill asked.
“Well,” she said, not sounding quite as confident, “I think we should give him Belle and her babies.”
As Bill gave her a questioning look, she continued on, talking faster, “Well, he helped me pull her.” Bill remembered the two of them had helped the first time mother to deliver her first baby. “And he really loves that goat. Haven’t you seen how he dotes on her when he comes over? Besides, the way they are tied out and shared by everyone, it’s not like she’s attached to us like Mischief.”
Amanda looked at her dad expectantly as he looked out at the goat pasture. “Okay,” he said.
She stood stunned at her dad’s quick agreement. The way he was with his goats, she had expected a long debate. “That’s it? Okay?”
“What, am I supposed to say no? Do you have a whole spiel ready for me about why he deserves Belle? Alright then, no, he can’t have her. Explain to me why he should take some of my babies. Change my mind.” Bill worked hard to keep a straight face.
“No Dad, that’s not it, I, well, I don’t know. I just thought you would need convinced.”
Bill chuckled as he looked at Amanda as she showed a rare awkwardness. “Amanda darling, I have watched Mark with the goats and seen how hard he works. He is a great kid. I think he will do a wonderful job with the goats and it will be a good responsibility for him. But there’s something we need to do first, no, make that you need to do first. You have to clear it with his parents. Remember how thrilled your mom is every time we have another goat? We need to make sure his parents don’t feel that way too, or for all your good intentions, they won’t let him have them.”
“Alright, thank you Dad,” she said and gave him a quick hug, turned and trotted down the driveway and out onto the road.
Two days later, Amanda had requested Mark and his parents to come over for an early supper. As Amy and Frances prepared the meal, Amanda and Brad made a cake. After everyone had eaten, Amanda asked everyone to stay seated and she and Brad left, returning with the Doe and her twins at lead. Belle had a bow on her that one of the kids was just getting into its mouth and pulling off. The teens led the goats over and handed the leads to Mark.
“Surprise Mark, happy birthday,” the two said together.
Mark sat stunned, his mouth slightly open. When he spoke, he said, “What . . . I don’t understand.”
Amanda laughed at his expression. “They’re yours. We all know how much you love Belle so she is your gift. You do know the proper response when someone gives you something don’t you?”
Mark continued to look shocked. “Really?” he asked quietly. “Are they really mine?”
Bill was laughing at his reaction. “Yes, really, they are yours; happy birthday.”
Mark looked from Bill to Amanda and Brad. “Wow, this is incredible. Thank you all so much.” He looked back at the three goats like it was the first time he had ever seen them.
Never one to miss such an opportunity, Amy said, “No, thank you Mark. How about taking the rest of them to?”
Early the next morning Mark was knocking at the door. “Hi Bill, I was wondering if I can borrow some books.”
“Well sure Mark. Which books do you want?”
“Everything you have about goats. I know I’ve learned a lot with you and Amanda but there has to be a lot more to know.”
Mark left with everything Bill could easily locate and occasionally asked if Bill had found anything else. He also asked Alan to look through his books for anything useful. From that beginning, Mark would discuss his readings with Bill. When it came to illnesses, Bill soon decided the young man was the more knowledgeable of them. After that, Bill talked with Alan, and between the two of them they supplied Mark with everything that had on veterinary medicine. He soaked up the information like a sponge.
The next birthday wasn’t as momentous, but Mark was presented with a crate of hens and a rooster. He was rapidly learning to provide a large portion of his family’s food.
*****
Bill smiled as he remembered the goat birthday while watching Mark and his daughter. Man, am I ready for this? Not a chance, but I don’t think she could do any better. He really is a fine young man. From being great friends, they had developed an awkwardness towards the other as their feelings changed into something more than friendship. Feelings that it appeared neither of them had a clue of how to deal with. Mark was getting quieter all the time around her. He better watch it, he might end up mute. And he better treat her right! Aside from his daughter being one of the people, Bill found the two of them quite comical.
“Bill, can you gather everyone and ask the Blessing?” Amy asked him, pulling him mentally back to the gathering.
“Nope, but I can get Mike to,” he told her.
*****
“Mind if we join you?” Bill addressed the table where Mike, Leslie, Russ and his wife Kim were already seated.
“Of course you can join us. Besides, it’s your place. You can sit wherever you want,” Russ answered.
“No, not anywhere, and only when she lets me,” he said making a gesture towards Amy.
“Yeah, I can see she keeps a tight hand on you. In fact, I’ve asked her for lessons,” Kim said with a big grin.
“Sorry Russ,” Bill said. “You might have to learn to nod you head and say “yes dear,” convincingly as you sneak out the door.” He glanced at another table where Mark and Brad were on one side and Amanda sitting straight across from Mark. The young man kept making quick glances at her when he wasn’t staring at his food. Brad seemed to be the only one of the three talking. Yep, pretty comical.
After he was settled and eating, Bill looked at the others and asked, “Did any of you make it to the market today?”
An open air market had been established at the supermarket parking lot where the periodic food distributions took place. Once a week people set up awnings and tables and displayed their wares. Bartering made up the majority of the transactions, however silver was accepted as well as Federal Reserve notes. Unfortunately for anyone holding them, the amount required for any purchases was exorbitant. There weren’t a lot of them in circulation and few places to spend them, but some slight commerce still remained. Gold could be used also; however change could be difficult to come up with.
Food products were the most popular items at the market; fresh vegetables, dried food, smoked and dried fish and meat, eggs, cheeses, fermented foods. A blacksmith was there most weeks. He had done a very good business on all tools related to growing food. He had been making serviceable hand well pumps that were also popular, if not for being out of the price range of most of the customers. Next to his booth was a man with handles that just happened to fit most of the tools the blacksmith produced. Clothing could usually be found. The source of much of it was unclear but with most people wearing more patches than original cloth, no one questioned it. A leather worker did a brisk business in work gloves and shoes. Different vendors would come and go; it was always interesting to see what was there each week. A popular fall item was foldable clothes drying racks. Many people used the market as a social gathering: a festival atmosphere surrounded it.
“We made it down,” Russ said. “It was mostly the usual stuff, except somebody had managed to get a bunch of Oregon hazelnuts. He claimed he should get some almonds and pecans in a few weeks. Those would sure be nice. Now if he could just find a source for coffee it would be even better.”
“There were some good clothes for kids,” Kim added, but nothing in my size. “Maybe someday,” she said dreamily.
“Wow, new clothes, maybe some that actually fit right. Wouldn’t that be nice,” Amy chimed in.
Bill wouldn’t mind a better pair of jeans himself but was more concerned about the state of his work boots. They had taken a lot of punishment and had needed resoled for more than a year. And they were in better shape than the footwear of most of the people around. They continued to eat, talking about what they would like to buy if the world was normal. Nobody is mentioning anything electronic. It’s all about needs now, not entertainment and bling. He took a long drink from the glass of ice water. That was another thing he loved about First Harvest Party. Bob made enough ice for the drinks as well as to make ice cream. He was a little more generous with it since he had made the gasifier to run the generator; of course he was impelled to get it done when the generator would no longer run on the stored gasoline. Stabilizers only went so far.
Once the meal was complete and the music had started up, people began to kick up their heels. You know we aren’t half bad now days. Amy drug Bill away from the musicians for a dance, then more; until he was glad to sit back down with his mandolin. Dang, that just about whipped me. Even sitting, it took him through the current song before he felt he had enough energy to return to playing. He glanced around nervously and wondered if anyone had noticed. He was relieved to see Amy was facing the other way.
One of the neighbor girls got Mark down for a dance. Amanda played the song as poorly as Bill could remember her playing it. Once it was over she laid her fiddle down softly and got off the trailer. She took Mark by the hand before he had a chance to reach the ladder and led him back to the dancing area. He walked and moved stiffly, with none of his usual grace.
The music and dancing went late into the night. It seemed the longer the power stayed off, the longer the parties lasted. Jim’s home brew was a hit with a number of people, Bill had just requested that it be monitored and not let anyone overdo it. Bill had a cup of his own home made wine. Wow, I sure would like a nice cold beer instead of this, uh, stuff. But just one!
*****
Jack Parson parked his pickup and walked over to where Bill was trying to direct a poor head of irrigation water. It just didn’t have the normal flow. Better look into that.
“Better make that water count Bill, we’ve got problems,” Jack said.
Uh oh. “That doesn’t sound good Jack. What’s going on?” Bill asked him.
“Can you go for a ride with me? I need to show you something and I’ll explain as we’re going.”
“Sure, but I need to tell Amy. How long do you think we’ll be?”
“About an hour I’d guess. Hop in, I’ll drive you to the house,” Jack told him. He stopped at Bill’s house and waited while Bill went to the back of the house, returning a couple of minutes later.
After Bill rejoined him, Jack began speaking, “It’s not good Bill; we lost the canal last night.”
Bill felt like he had just been slugged in the guts. “Lost the canal? What . . . where?”
“You know that spot where it’s about forty feet above the road at that curvy section? I’m guessing gophers tunneled through and it started washing. With that turn and the narrow bank, it went fast and really did a number on it.” As they drove they began to encounter water on the road. A subdivision on the low side of the road that had once been a nice alfalfa field looked to be flooded. The water surrounded all of the houses that were visible from the road.
Jack continued talking, “We shut it down at the river right after we found it, but it’ll take some time for it to stop. In the meantime, it keeps washing out even more of the bank.” They rounded a corner in the road.
“Oh Lord,” Bill said quietly. Water was running across the road from a large section of missing bank. At first glance Bill guessed it to be at least thirty yards wide. Jack slowed; the water was getting deep on the wheels of the pickup as they approached the running water. From the closer viewpoint Bill could see even more of the sandy soil ditch bank falling away.
*****
The two men sat silent for a long time. That water is washing their lives away with it. Oh Lord, what are they going to do without irrigation?
Jack had no more than turned onto Bill’s road than a man stepped out of a field to stop them. “Hi Bill, Amy said you were with Jack. We’ve got problems here. The water is down to a trickle and I’ve walked the ditch to the feeder line and that ditch is barely flowing too.”
“Yeah, that’s what Jack and I have been looking at. I want a neighborhood meeting in a half hour at my place. I’ll fill in everybody at the same time.” Bill nodded and said, “Let’s go Jack.” The taste of bile was strong in his mouth. It felt like an anxiety attack was impending. He gripped the arm rest tightly and fought for control. He needed to stay in control.
Once Jack dropped him off, he directed the kids to get the word out about the meeting. “Tell everyone it is extremely important.” He poured some water into the wash basin, cupped his hands in it as he lowered his face and thoroughly wet his face. He raised his face a short distance and watched the rings forming as drops fell from his nose into the basin. Water means life. Oh Lord, what are they going to do without that water? Why now? Why did this have to come now, right on top on top of that . . . ? Lord, all I’ve ever asked was for their safety. I don’t know how to deal with … He clasped the counter as shudders ran though him, followed by a strong muscle cramp in his upper chest muscles that threatened to drop him to the floor. He hung on and fought through the urge to curl up on the floor. Rinsing his face had done nothing to wash away any of his dread.
*****
“Thank you all for coming on short notice,” Bill told the group standing in the shade of the trees, some few occupying the chairs that were out. Bill had to stop and collect his resolve. “We’ve got a big problem people . . . really big.” Again he paused, the words not wanting to form.
It was a rare time when the gathered people saw the torment he was going through and waited quietly for him to continue. Russ had never seen Bill like that. It must be bad to have him this upset. He always has an answer.
“The irrigation water is . . . is . . . gone. The canal washed out. There’s a huge . . . breech in the bank. We would need dump truck . . . loads of big rock, fill dirt, compaction equipment. I just don’t know . . . where we could come up with . . . any of it. I just don’t know . . . what to do now.”
Mike sat a chair behind Bill and directed him to sit in it. The change in position caused his thigh muscles in one leg to suddenly cramp. He wanted to cry out. Sweat broke out on his forehead and face, his teeth grinding together as he tried to ride it out. Questions were asked, men cursed, but it was all like the buzz of a bee hive to Bill; nothing was legible. Finally the muscles relaxed, how long did it last this time, an hour, a day? He was left panting from the episode. With the deep breaths he was assailed by the smells in the yard: the mashed over grass and goat poop, body odor of hard working people, faint smoke from someone’s cooking fire. The assembled people thought his anguish was related to the irrigation water, but Mike looked on concerned, he knew something else going on. Bill didn’t even notice that the people started to leave; he could only picture withered plants in the garden, his kid’s hungry faces asking why he had deserted them, why he wasn’t there to take care of them.
Mike came from the back of the house with a glass of water. He pulled up an additional chair and held the glass out to Bill. Bill looked at it numbly for a while before reaching out and taking it.
The silence was broken by Russ’ pickup driving by, loaded with men from the neighborhood. They were undoubtedly going to see the break in the canal for themselves.
“Thanks, Mike,” Bill said softly and took a long drink.
“You’re welcome. That was . . . interesting, Bill. So do you want to tell me about it? I know there’s something else going on besides that ditch problem.”
Bill looked at him, saw the concern. “No Mike, I just want you to pray for my family.” Bill’s eyes were filled with tears. “Tomorrow Mike,” he said softly and drained the rest of the water. He set the empty glass down and reached over and grasped his friend’s hands. “Tomorrow I’ll be strong enough to tell you, I just can’t go there today. Not on top of the canal. Tomorrow,” the last word a whisper.
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Post by bretf on Jun 30, 2016 10:58:25 GMT
Chapter 30: I will see you again
It was a gathering of some three hundred people In the little church the crowd began to swell Quite a send off for a simple country farmer For many loved and knew the old man well
And as his bride of sixty years came forward She bravely walked to where his body laid A hush fell over all that stood around her She smiled through tears as she began to say
I will see you again for this isn't the end You're my forever friend and I will see you again
Ever since a simple carpenter from Nazareth Walked the mountains and the shores of Galilee Ever since He died and rose again on Easter Death doesn't have the same old victory
Tonight I'll lay my head upon his pillow And cry until the breaking of the day For even in the pain of separation There's a hope inside my heart that lets me sing
I will see you again for this isn't the end You're my forever friend and I will see you again
Jesus, He made a way, there is coming a day So I will hold on till then and I will see you again I will hold on till then and I will see you again
“I Will See You Again” Performed by Rhonda Vincent Written by Tammy Pockstaller
Bob went to the door of the pump house where Bill was using the hand pump to fill a bucket. When the bucket was full Bill lifted it very carefully and turned with deliberate movements to the door. “Give me that”, Bob said and took it from Bill’s hand and effortlessly poured the water into one of the water jugs in the nearby wheelbarrow.
He turned and handed the empty bucket back to Bill and watched him carefully. “So I hear you went a little whacko at your get together yesterday. Too bad Alan and I weren’t back from the mountain and had to miss it,” he said but not with the usual humor in his voice at such a needling comment.
Bill took the bucket and with the same deliberate movements positioned the bucket and began to slowly draw water from the well. “It just hit me rough; that’s all. You know, it’s quite a shock to see the canal bank with that gaping hole and all the water rushing onto the road. That water is too important to us. I’m over it now.”
“Right. I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with you being as weak as a two day old kitten for some time now. I’m not sure just how long ago I first noticed it. You do a pretty good job of hiding it but I know you too well.”
Bill didn’t answer, just slowly picked up the nearly full bucket, turned and handed it off to his brother.
Bob passed the emptied bucket back and continued, “Or maybe the fact you move like you’re ninety years old. That bucket should fill this load.” He took the full bucket when Bill had finished filling it and poured it in the jug. Once Bill was ready, Bob took the handles of the wheelbarrow. “Where is this going?”
“The greenhouse. I just got the fall stuff in it this week.”
“So, most of the gardens have just about run their course for this year,” Bob stated. “So losing the irrigation water to them shouldn’t have set you off. Pretty much everything we store in the root cellars is mature enough; it’ll be fine with the water being cut off. Yes, we can still get a fair amount of fresh stuff before the freeze up, but not enough for you to go crazy over. No, I think you have something else going on.” They arrived at the greenhouse and Bob took a full jug while Bill carefully opened the screened door. “See, there’s that type of movement again. Which bed do you want this water in?”
He poured the water carefully where Bill indicated, not allowing it to gush and wash the dirt away, exposing the seeds. “Hum, what else have I seen? You have been ramping up the things you have the kids do in a big way. I know you always tried to teach them how to do stuff, but this looks different. Not just your kids, but sometimes you act like Mark is yours too. You’ve always been good with the kid, but again, this is different.” He had both water jugs emptied and picked up the handles of the wheel barrow to get more water.
“Well, you know Mark is crazy about Amanda don’t you. He’s just too shy to tell her. And she’s just as bad.” Bill started back towards the pump house. “One of these days they’ll bother figure it out. I want him to be able to carry his own load with her.”
Once Bill was again pumping water, Bob continued, “So when you look at all of those things together, add in you going goofy, I think there’s something that you need to tell your family, me, Carla and Alan. And I guess Mark too.”
Bill handed him the bucket and leaned against the door frame. “I want you to take care of them Bob; Amy, Amanda and Brad. Well, Frances too,” he said to his brother’s back as he was pouring the water.
“Oh and why would that be?” Bob asked as he handed the bucket back.
Bill didn’t talk while he pumped, but waited until he had passed the bucket to Bob. “I’ve been out of med’s for a while now, just taking the dried animal thyroid. I think it worked well enough when I was alternating the two, well once I finally figured out how much to take. But now, I just can’t get it right. Some days it feels right, and other days I am so weak it is hard to get out of bed. The cramps have started again too. Remember back when my thyroid was irradiated those horrible muscle cramps I got? Any odd movement would cause that area to cramp up tight. Well, I’m getting a few of them now. Yesterday happened to be a bad day.
“Those cramps came the first time when my thyroid was totally shut down; no hormone production at all. So after a cramp, I’ll take some more of the dried stuff. A couple of times I’ve found some that must be effective and taken too much of it. My heart starts racing about one hundred twenty beats a minute when I’m just sitting around. So then, instead of waiting for my heart to cramp up, I’m waiting for it to work too hard and stop. Talk about a roller coaster ride. Take my advice. Never get thyroid disease,” he was able to say with one of his grins.
“Ok, let’s go get some hogs and get you some fresh glands,” Bob stated matter-of-factly.
“It’s too hot for the meat to keep now, but I suppose we could try just one. But still, if I can’t keep it regulated, one of these days it’s going to be my heart that seizes up from too much of too little. It’s the same result either way. It could be today, it could be in a year, but it’s going to happen.” All work at filling the water jugs had stopped. “So I want your word; promise me you’ll take care of my family!” The words were accompanied by an intense look.
“You know I will. But you’ve got to do something for me too. No secrets. I want you to go sit down with Amy and the kids right now and tell them everything.”
“Do you have any idea how hard that will be? It’s like I’m failing them.”
“Wow Bill, so you’re not perfect after all. We’ll have to look at you as human, tarnished image and everything,” he said, some of the needling returning. “As I remember it, there’s only been one person to ever walk this earth that was perfect, and sorry to tell you little brother, but you aren’t him. You’ve got flaws like the rest of us.” He handed the empty bucket back to Bill. “Get to pumping. You can talk to them after we’ve watered your dirt crop. That’ll give you a little while to think of what you’re going to say. And I’ll go trade for a hog and we’ll have you some fresh thyroids to work with.”
“So I’ve been wondering since last night. That canal break is bad,” Bill said as he handed the bucket over. “What if we can’t get it fixed? What then?”
“I don’t see the electric economy jumping right back online, so that’s out,” Bob said. They continued pumping water, passing the bucket and pouring while they talked. “Pumps are out, at least pumps with the power to pull all the water we’ve been using.” He held onto the bucket for a bit to emphasize his next statement, “This won’t cut it. We could keep some stuff going all season by packing water, but not enough to feed everyone. The windmill only does a little better. It just draws enough to keep my garden watered. That Wirtz pump you guys put in the drain ditch can do pretty good for the places right next to it, so we could build more of them, but it wouldn’t be enough.”
Bob picked up the handles of the wheel barrow and pushed it back to the greenhouse. “So other than fixing the canal, I can only see one more possibility.”
“And that is what?” Bill asked as Bob put the empty jug in the wheelbarrow and picked up the full one.
“We go to the cabin.” They were quiet while Bob gave Bill time to mull it over. The rest of the water was poured over the seed beds and they were back at the pump house and Bill still hadn’t responded to the suggestion. “Unless of course, you have some other idea,” Bob stated.
“No I don’t. I’m just trying to get my mind around the whole concept.” Bill was deep in thought as he raised and lowered the pump handle.
“Hey Dad, what ya doing?” Brad asked as he and Amanda came up beside their Uncle Bob.
“We’ve been watering the beds in the greenhouse. I was starting to think you were going to stay in bed all day,” Bill told them with a smile. “Now we need to get some water out to the garden. Why don’t you guys take over for me?” Bob shot Bill a knowing look.
“So is this how we have to do it now?” Brad asked with a whine in his voice.
“Yep. Without water flowing in the ditch, we’re going to have to pump and pack all the water we need,” Bill told him.
With a fair amount of complaining the kids filled the jugs and started a slow trek towards the garden. “What plants are we putting them on, Dad?” Amanda asked.
“Let’s start with the tomatoes and work from there.” Bill watched them struggling with the wheelbarrow and decided they would fare better with the wagon. “Bob can you help me with something?” he asked and led the way to the shed. “Can you get the wagon and those two jugs out of there for me?” At Bob’s look, he said, “Yes I’m going to tell them, now just get the wagon.” They took the wagon to the pump house to continue the slow process.
When Amy called everyone to breakfast, the kids were happy to take a break. “There’s enough for you too Bob,” she said. “Would you like to join us?”
“Thanks, Amy, but I’ll take a rain-check. I ate early and I’ve got to take off,” he answered.
“Are you sure? I have pancakes and there is plenty to go around.”
“No, really, I’ve got something I have to do today.” He turned and told his brother softy, “Besides, you’ve got quite a conversation to have and don’t need me in the way.”
Bill and the kids washed and joined Amy and Frances at the table. After the blessing and everyone began eating, he was just ready to start the uncomfortable talk when Brad said, “Mom, do you know what we’ve been doing and just how rotten it is?
“No, but I’m sure it can’t be as bad as you are insinuating,” Amy told him.
“Yes it is Mom,” Amanda chimed in. “We had to pump water, put it in jugs, carry it to the garden, and pour it out to water the plants. I sure wish the ditch was flowing.”
“Well, you know your Dad. He’ll be able to come up with something that’s easier,” she told the confidently.
They all turned to Bill, waiting for his solution.
Well here goes. “Actually, we need to discuss something that’s sort of related to that.” Bill stirred his cup of herbal tea deliberately and took a sip. “On top of the water problem, I’ve been having some other problems. My internal system has been getting all out of whack. I can’t seem to get the thyroid doses right.” He continued to explain what he had been experiencing while everyone looked at him intently. Amy clearly remembered what he had gone through before and dropped her fork on her plate, the pancake in her mouth suddenly tasting foul.
The sound of the dropping fork startled her and she got up and went to the scrap bucket and spit out the mouthful. “Oh Bill, we’ve got to find a solution.”
“We’ll try. Bob’s going to try to find us a pig today so we can have some fresh thyroid. Even though there has been some commerce going on, it’s pretty basic. I haven’t caught wind of any med’s coming available. I’ve even sent out feelers to the FEMA camps but haven’t found anything.”
“So you’ve known for some time but haven’t said anything?” She said accusingly. “And you told Bob before me?” The hurt was obvious in the statement.
“No, I haven’t known, but I anticipated it. When I came to my last bottle of pills, I started checking. There’s just none to be had. And I only told Bob this morning. We’ll continue to try animals glands, but,” he sipped from the now cold tea. “We have to face the possibilities that I may be useless…or worse.”
It was deathly quiet around the table while everyone contemplated what he had told them.
“So what would you think of leaving home and going to Bob’s cabin to live? He threw that out as a possibility this morning,” Bill asked to break the heavy silence.
“The cabin? Why on earth would we go there?” Amy asked. She had never enjoyed spending time there like everyone else. “I mean, it’s fine to go up there for firewood and to help Bob pick stuff and dig the potatoes, but why would we go there to live?”
“Well, I think the key words are “to live.” Just suppose we can’t get the canal fixed, which didn’t look promising at all to me. We’ll be able to tell more once the water stops running. But if we can’t fix if . . . Where will your food come from? I don’t think our old world is coming back right away. Oh, I think it will in some form eventually, but not any time soon. Another possibility is the FEMA camps. But from the stories we’ve heard, I don’t want anyone in this family ending up in one of those holes.
“So, Brad, Amanda, you spent an hour this morning watering just a portion of the garden. Another alternative is to just stay here. What do you think your chances are to do that work to raise all the food we need? We also rely heavily on the chickens and animals. So you would also have to hand water their feed. So just think about that. And think about the last time we went and helped at the cabin.
“Another consideration is the fuel supply. There are always dead trees to be found near the cabin. It would be a lot easier getting in a winter supply there. Compare the two locations. We don’t have to decide right now, but we do need to give it honest consideration,” Bill finished and gave them time for it all to sink it. That’s a lot to throw out all at once.
I don’t like it that you are saying “your food””, Amy told him.
“I just want you to consider the possibility that I won’t be here. You know nothing would please me more than to live a long life with you, but it’s all in God’s hands and we never know His purposes,” he told her. He didn’t remind her that everyone else they had known that was on maintenance medication had already passed away.
It was quiet at the table for several minutes as they contemplated what Bill had said. Tears ran freely down faces; the breakfast Amy and Frances had prepared was forgotten. Finally Amanda broke the silence. “Mom,” she said, “It was a lot of work to water what we did. Maybe you need to help us after we do the dishes to see exactly what we would have to do.
Before the crash, if Brad said something like that it would be a way for him to get out of work. He had gotten his mom and sister to do a lot of work for him. It was different when Amanda said it now. She truly wanted her mother to know first-hand what might be involved.
Amy looked shell-shocked after listening to Bill, tears were still running down her face, but she agreed with Amanda that it would be a good idea. “But I want you to take us all to see the canal breech this afternoon. We really need to see what it looks like for ourselves to form a solid opinion. Maybe the water will have stopped running by then.”
“Sure we can do that. After we get the garden watered we’ll go over there.”
Bill stayed out of the way and watched while everyone else worked on watering the garden. I need to make sure they get a real feel for it, but jeez, I don’t want to leave home any more than Amy does. While he watched he considered a way in which he could make the process easier. Prior to the crash, it was easier to sprinkle some areas than rely on flood irrigation. He had pulled the fittings from his lines and rolled the black plastic pipe. He had planned on sending it to the cabin with Bob to extend some water lines, but two rolls were still hung to the side of the wood shed. He quit observing the family and went to look at the pipe. There was enough to reach from the pump house to the garden. Now to figure out some sort of connection to go from the pump to the pipe. It wouldn’t eliminate the need to operate the hand pump, but it should eliminate the need for buckets and transporting the water. But that just covers the garden, and I still don’t know how we could grow enough food there. But every little bit helps. He decided he would try to get it set up the following day.
He was still deep in thought on the pump to pipe connection when Mike joined him. “Hey Bill, you ready to talk to me now?” he asked.
Mike was very concerned as Bill told him pretty much what he had told the family earlier. “So is that why you are just standing around watching everyone else work now? Are you that weak?”
Bill laughed at his comment even though Mike had not meant it as a joke. “No, I’ve just finally gotten them trained and wanted to see if the training stuck.” At the questioning look Mike shot him Bill told him about the discussion about possibly moving to the mountain. “I just don’t know how they would make it here, Mike, if I can’t help. I need them to know what is needed to water the garden. And if they decide it’s too much work, well, the fields at Bob’s place all have gravity fed irrigation. Also, I think it’s a lot safer up there since there are hardly any people.”
“That also means there are less people to watch your back and give you a hand when you need it. I’m sure you’re familiar with the term safety in number. I’d wager there are more natural hazards as well. That ground isn’t near as flat. Don’t forget that when you are thinking how safe it is,” Mike said.
“You make good points, my friend. We’ll have to keep that in mind.” Bill replied. “We’re going to go look at the canal today and see how bad the breech is. The water should be pretty much out of it then so we can get a lot better idea of how bad it is. You want to go along?”
“Sure I do. I was hoping to get over there and see it for myself.”
Amy and the kids came to where they were talking, pushing the wheel barrow and pulling the wagon. “Hi Mike, It’s good to see you.
“OK, the garden is all watered; that was a lot of work,” Amy said as she removed her hat and wiped some sweat from her forehead. “That’s a wise daughter we have to let me do it to see how much work it is. I think you’re right that it would be near impossible to get enough food harvested if we had to do this.”
“So do you want to go over and see the canal now? Mike wants to ride along with us when we go.” Bill said.
“Not yet, I need to rest for a bit and have a drink. So why haven’t you ever put a cup beside the pump? It didn’t seem right to pump all of that water and not have something to drink from,” she said.
“I just put my mouth in the stream from the pump to the bucket. On water not destined for the house, that is. I just never thought about putting a cup there,” he answered, half embarrassed that it had never occurred to him.
“Well, we’re going to put one there today. Now, about the canal, I think in about half an hour I’ll feel ready to go. Will that work for you Mike?”
“That’s fine,” he answered. “Since you’ll drive right by the house, would you mind stopping there for me?”
“Sure we’ll do that,” Bill told him.
They went to the lawn chairs in the shade and Brad and Amanda came back with cups and water. As they drank and cooled down, Bill told them his idea for the plastic pipe. He made sure to explain the limitations of it.
*****
The group in the pickup was subdued on the drive home. The canal bank – or the lack of it – was extremely depressing. Even more had eroded away after Bill had seen it. A small amount of water was still trickling out but it did not hide any of the devastation.
“If we do go to the cabin,” Amy asked, “Is the whole family going? It’s not big enough for everyone.”
“Although not ideal, I think we would have to get Jim’s, Dad and Alan’s campers and trailers up there and use them like small apartments. We could do most meals together in the cabin and small meals individually,” Bill told her.
“That’s fine for all of them, but what about us? We only have a tent. I refuse to spend the winter in that, especially up there,” Amy said indignantly.
“I’ve got a possible solution if I can work it out,” Bill began. “Pat and Angie have wanted more goat products. They make that cheese that everyone loves and he thinks he could sell and trade it at the market. He also has that nice travel trailer behind his house. We have too many goats to take up there. Now maybe, just maybe, we could trade some goats for that trailer. It’s useless to him currently and he has told me quite a few times he wants any doe kids we have available. So maybe some producing, pregnant does might be enough. That is unless you want to keep all of the goats. I know how much you adore them,” he finished with a grin and dancing eyes.
“Offer him all of them, just keep the cow,” was her blunt reply.
Their conversation was interrupted by Alan’s grandson coming through the gate. “Grandpa and Uncle Bob are getting ready to butcher a pig and said you needed to come and help.”
OK, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Bill told him. “Brad, Amanda, you two can help with this.”
After Bill and the kids got to Bob’s, Bill was surprised when he looked in the barn. “Uh Bob, that’s a lot more than one pig to butcher now.”
“Yeah I know. But as I was driving I was thinking a little further out. This isn’t the last pig you are going to need, and I don’t know how long it will last. I don’t want to keep running out there every month or so. And besides, if we decide to make the move to the mountain, I want some pigs there too,” Bob explained.
“That sounds logical, but what are you going to feed them? And just what did you have to trade for all of them?” Bill asked.
“Old Ted has been lusting after our pickups since the crash. I’m trading him Dad’s old GMC,” Bob said. “We have all the other rigs running and I figured we needed the hogs more. He is also giving us enough feed for these guys for quite a while.”
“Wow Bob, Dad’s pickup. Thanks.”
*****
The rest of the family looked over the canal break and had long discussions on the merits of staying in place or going to live at the cabin. Emotions ran high, voices were raised. But in the end, it was decided that they would all go in the upcoming spring. Plans were made and solidified. Everything that was not needed to winter in the valley was moved to the cabin before the snows made the road impassable.
Amy still had misgivings about the move but happily bid good riddance to most of Bill’s goats in exchange for Pat’s camp trailer. It was readied as well as possible and taken to the cabin along with the rest of the campers. They were all set up and leveled with insulating panels running to the ground. Heavy tarps were placed over them and secured tightly to help keep the winter snow off.
Bill’s health improved with fresh thyroid supplements. He wasn’t back to normal but was happy with the improvements. Although he no longer had the feeling of impending doom, he spent the winter months compiling a thick journal. He wrote down as much information related to growing food, raising chickens and goats and every bit of information he could recall. No detail was too small, even if everyone already knew it. As the pages were filled, he made an accompanying calendar, giving the range of dates for accomplishing specific actions. Fall gardening, spring seed starting, working with the bees, milking and making cheese; he included everything he could remember.
*****
Wow, what a day. The air told Bill that spring had definitely arrived. In the valley at least; Bob still had to use snowshoes to reach the cabin to make sure the snow load was off the roofs. Bill looked at the greenhouse, actually where the greenhouse had stood. Now the glass doors and frames were a neat pile ready to transport. They hadn’t gone to the cabin before snows made the roads impassable as the family ate fresh vegetables deep into the winter. I’d sure like to be getting some seeds started. Days like this were made for playing in the dirt. But instead of planting seeds, he was busying himself getting more things ready to move.
He walked into the garden and looked at the row of fruit trees. There were two peach trees he had started that he thought – and hoped – were still small enough to transplant. He would dig them and wrap the root ball with burlap bags to make the move. Although Bob didn’t have peach trees, the home at the bottom of the hill had a few so Bill assumed it wouldn’t be wasted effort. He began digging a fair distance away from the tree, circling the tree and getting ever deeper.
In a short time he encountered a large river rock at just the wrong spot. Danged rocks! Just once it would be nice to dig a hole here without hitting rocks! He couldn’t work it loose with the shovel so he went to the shed and got his pry bar. He jammed the point of the bar as far under one edge as he could and leaned into the bar to pop the rock free. Straining with all his might, he was hit in the chest with a blinding pain. He dropped the bar and doubled over, his hands on his chest. It felt like every danged rock on the place was suddenly crushing down on him. The pain moved into his neck and arm. The crush! Sweat beaded his forehead as he fought the crushing pain. The crush was threatening to force out his breakfast; some part of his brain registered the nausea as the rest was overwhelmed with the crushing weight in his chest. He couldn’t catch his breath no matter how fast and hard he breathed. Oh God, not now, I can’t leave my family, they need me. Please God.
He was lying on the ground in the fetal position when Brad and Amanda found him. “Dad, Dad, are you alright?” His head was resting against the freshly moved dirt, a line of drool from his mouth making a patch of mud on his cheek.
The words came to Bill through a thick fog. Some of the rocks had been removed from his chest, but not all and he still could not catch his breath. His words were slow, soft, croaks. “Help me sit up.”
Amanda looked around, sit up, how? “I’ll be right back Dad. Hang on.” She ran through the gate, her tears trying to blind her as she went. She opened the back door and yelled inside, “Mom, get some blankets, quick. It’s Dad, in the garden,” and she slammed the door and ran to the garage. She threw lawn chairs out of her way until she could get her hands on the reclining lounge lawn chair. She pulled it forcefully from the pile and ran with it back to the garden. Brad was kneeling at his Dad’s head. He had lifted Bill’s head slightly and was gently cleaning the mud from his face.
Amanda had the lounge chair in position as Amy and Frances ran into the garden with blankets. Amanda pulled one from her mom as she dropped to the ground beside Bill. Amanda could hear her Mom talking to Bill but focused on the task at hand. When the blanket was arranged on the lounge chair she directed everyone else to help get Bill onto it.
They rolled him up and he breathed through tightly gritted teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. After he was settled on the lounge chair with another blanket covering him, Amy spoke again, “Bill can you hear me?” She was barely controlling the emotions trying to sweep over her.
Bill’s eyes fluttered open for a moment as he took them in and then closed. Again his words were slow and soft croaks. “I hear you. I want you all to know how much I love you all, how proud I am of each of you.” He paused often, each word a new labor. Frances slipped away from the group to go find Bill’s brothers and sister. Bill’s eyes flickered open and he found Brad. “Son,” he raised his shaking hand slowly toward Brad. He continued speaking with the slow, jerky delivery. “You’ve made very happy. Your happy walk through life; your infectious good humor. You’re the man of the family now. You have to watch out for everyone; take care of them; protect them. Sorry to lay this on your shoulders. It’s a heavy load, but you’re man enough to carry it.” His mouth clinched and he fought to breathe. “Amanda, my amazing daughter. I couldn’t have been prouder. Help Mom, stand strong with Brad. And remember, I hold Mark in high regard.” Amanda turned bright red at the comment.
Bill grimaced again, the hand not held tightly by Amy going to his chest. Lord, give me the breath to talk. His eyes flickered again and he looked at Amy. “Amy, darling. You are my light in darkness. I would have been lost without you. I was an empty shell when I met you. You and the kids filled the holes and made me feel alive.” He clinched his eyes and mouth tight again. Amy lightly brushed the dirt from the side of his face.
Bob came to the garden, followed soon by Carla and then Alan, as well as the rest of the family. The lounge chair was gently raised and carried to the house. Bill’s worn recliner was repositioned near the wood stove and the men shifted him onto it; his face a rictus of agony during the move. The agony shifted into…nothingness. I don’t feel it. The rocks are gone, but why can’t I breathe? He was covered again with blankets and a glass of water held to his lips; a very slight amount allowed into his mouth. Amy, Amanda and Brad sat around him, holding tightly to his hands.
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Post by themotherhen on Jul 1, 2016 3:06:13 GMT
bretf, wow, I don't cry easily but that last bit caused my eyes to leak a bit. What a great story!
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Post by Deleted on Jul 1, 2016 16:59:38 GMT
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Post by themotherhen on Jul 1, 2016 19:11:24 GMT
@pony, that movie is hilarious!
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Post by Deleted on Jul 2, 2016 1:00:55 GMT
@pony , that movie is hilarious! Little kids + GIFs = a happy smile
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Post by Deleted on Jul 3, 2016 0:11:38 GMT
Please, bretf, say it isn't over...
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Post by bretf on Jul 3, 2016 13:22:36 GMT
Part III: Amanda’s Story, Part 2
Chapter 31: Oh Lord It’s Hard to be Humble
Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble When you're perfect in every way I can't wait to look in the mirror Cause I get better lookin' each day To know me is to love me I must be a hell of a man Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble But I'm doin' the best that I can!
I used to have a girlfriend But I guess she just couldn't compete With all of these love-starved women Who keep clamoring at my feet Well I could probably find me another But I guess they're all in awe of me Who cares? I never get lonesome Cause I treasure my own company.
“Oh Lord It’s Hard to be Humble” Performed by Mac Davis Written by Mac Davis
“Well hello Baby, just where have you been hiding all my life. I was thinking I was going to have to head back to the valley to find some good scenery, but holy crud, I sure won’t find anything down there near as easy on the eyes as you. Why don’t you come stand next to me; the two of us together would be so good lookin’, nobody could stand to look at us. Why, the two of us together would shine brighter than the sun.”
Amanda fought the urge to stick her finger in her mouth as she looked at the man that had just rode up to the barn. Give me a break! Is this clown for real?
The man swung his leg and hooked his knee over the saddle horn as he leered at Amanda. The look made her want to put her heavy coat on. “I’m Kris, your neighbor and future husband. I’d get down and give you a proper greeting but I’d end up on my backside. The spell you cast on me has totally swept me off my feet with just one look. I see you’ve been rendered speechless by me too. I can have that effect on women.”
Amanda was at a loss for words for the buffoon all right, but not for the reason he thought; Mom always said if you can’t say something good then don’t say anything at all. So I guess I won’t say anything, but really, is this clown for real? It was a relief to hear Bob come up behind her.
“Well hey Bob. I’d tell you it’s good to see you but after seeing this incredible vision in front of you, I’d probably just be lying,” Kris said in the same brash manner.
“Kris,” Bob said and nodded his head toward him. “So I see you’ve met my niece.”
“Your niece, holy crud Bob. That means we’re gonna be family.”
“Oh and how’s that?” Bob asked him dryly.
“Well we just got engaged. Just look at her. It’s all she can do to stop herself from pulling me off my horse and dragging me into that hay pile.” The leer he directed at Amanda made her want to knock him off the horse all right, but beyond that his interpretation was all wrong.
Shaking her head at the brash arrogance of the guy Amanda took her bucket to the cabin not bothering to look back. If this is what I’m going to have to put up with, I’d rather pack water all day. As the milk strained she stared out the window, trying to see back down the valley, already missing everything she had left behind.
*****
The greenhouse was quickly erected. Amanda assumed the duty of sifting dirt and compost together and planting the seed flats. Hi Dad, I’ll try to do it like you taught me. She was able to forget most of her homesickness while she was doing the familiar calming action. Brad joined her after the first hoop house was put up. The two of them worked with quiet conversation of past seed plantings and home while they worked.
The plants grew swiftly, the location near perfect for early growth on the south facing slope. All around the cabin the trees and plants came to life after the long winter. Amanda was amazed by the resilience of the bushes. Many had been flattened under feet of snow, but with spring they sprang right up and began putting on new growth.
The campers all had wires run from the generator house. What a change to flick a switch and have the lights come on! The storage batteries on the solar charger at home had failed more than a year ago. Bill assumed it was the cheap panels, but regardless, they mostly used candles for light.
And running water again. It was only cold, but lines ran from the spring-fed cistern to the campers. It was almost like living in the modern world again. Too Bad Bill wasn’t there to enjoy it.
Amanda did her best to duck away when Kris appeared. Doesn’t he ever do anything? I thought he was here to help out his elderly grandma. Amanda had never met Bernice. She never went with Bob when he went to see Kris’ grandmother. She was afraid of how Kris would interpret the visit so decided it was best to stay away. But Kris; that guy was as bad as dog poop: he showed up underfoot all the time, and usually when least expected. She still shuddered to remember the last time he had gotten close to her.
Bob had disced an area where they were planting potatoes. Amanda had a shovel and would make a hole; Brad had a bag of seed potatoes and would drop one in the hole as they moved down the row. Other members of the family were spread across the field doing the same thing. Brad’s bag was empty and he was going to fill it. Amanda stood straight, stretching her back and noticed a shadow of someone reaching out to her from behind. “You touch me and I will beat you to a pulp with this shovel!” she spat as she spun, furious at his audacity. The nerve of this guy to try that.
“Ah darlin’, how long are you going to play so hard to get?” Kris asked with a hurt puppy-dog look.
“To you, as long as I have breath, now back off,” she hissed at him as she held the shovel menacingly.
Brad came walking up with a bag of seed potatoes and quickly sized up the situation. “This isn’t dinner theatre Kris. Either get to work or get out of here. We aren’t here for your entertainment. Hand me your shovel, sis. I’ll use it now.” He never took his eyes off Kris while Amanda put the shovel in his outstretched hand.
“Well Brad, you’re getting it all wrong. Me and gorgeous was just thinking about going off for a break together. We’ve got our wedding to plan after all.” Kris was just beginning to ramble as Amanda marked the spot in the row and left the field at a fast walk.
As Kris started to follow her, Brad blocked his way, shaking his head. Amanda had told her brother that the less contact with Kris, the better. “No Kris, let her alone.”
Something in Brad’s tone finally sunk in. You’re the man of the family now. You have to watch out for everyone; take care of them; protect them. His Dad’s words were always there for him. He wasn’t going to let either of them down for this creep. His grip tightened on the shovel handle and his arms tensed. Your move buster.
“Oh, alright. I probably better be getting back home anyway. Granny wants me to help in her stinkin’ garden today,” Kris said as he turned and slowly walked back towards his tethered horse.
Kris never tried grabbing her again, but he still pestered her, always keeping a watchful eye out for Brad. Brad accompanied her everywhere he could if she wasn’t with Uncle Bob. Amanda missed home more than ever. With all this open space, I should feel free, but that guy has me so creeped out I feel almost like a prisoner.
*****
The air was full of perfume from the blooming syringa bushes. Grouse were constantly drumming in the undergrowth. The electric fence was around a new area Bob wanted to clear for planting. The goats were quickly stripping the tender branches and the bark from the brush. The pigs were “rooto-tilling” the ground, cleaning up all of the plants and roots the goats left. “After they finish up we’ll pull any brush that’s left, disc and harrow and get some green manure into it. That should have it in pretty good shape when we’re ready to plant it,” Bob told Amanda and Brad.
They sat down in the shade to make sure the animals were content when Kris “just happened” to appear. He had most likely been holed up somewhere watching, just waiting for them to take a break. Amanda decided to take another approach. Ignoring him sure hadn’t worked. If anything it had just made him try harder. “Well imagine that, the work is done and who should show up.”
Kris grinned at her for acknowledging his presence. “Well of course Sweetheart. Your beauty is a magnet that just draws me no matter where you are.”
“Whatever. So do you ever do anything except ride your horse around? I heard a rumor that you were here to help your grandma, but I think that was all a lie. I bet that fencepost there does more than you do,” Amanda said. Sorry Mom, I know you raised me not to talk like this, but man, this guy just rubs me wrong.
“Of course granny does a lot of work. She says that is what keeps her going, so I sure don’t want to do anything to kill her off none too soon. Anyway, since we’re getting hitched, it’s about time we get to know each other better. So, how are you at skinning and butchering? I’m kinda handy with my rifle, but after that I’m a rookie.”
Amanda looked at him sweetly, “I don’t think I could handle that for you. I really don’t think you want to be close to me when I have a knife in my hand. I might accidently slip at just the wrong moment.”
“Aw darlin’, that’s alright. I know women can get kinda awkward sometimes. But really, I can stay out of your way and make sure you don’t cut me.” Kris looked thoughtful for a moment. “You look pretty strong though. I bet you could pack a quarter of an elk in at a time, so you could make it in only four trips. How about cooking? You any good at that”.
“Of course I’m a good cook. However you like your meat I can make it black on the outside and red on the inside every time; well except when it’s black all the way through. That’s about the extent of my cooking,” Amanda told him. “I only knew how to heat stuff in the microwave and certainly can’t do that now.” Bob was biting his tongue and getting a lot of entertainments from the conversation. Brad was debating where to punch Kris first. His hard head would probably bust my hand. Better go for the body.
“Just the way I like my meat,” Kris said happily.
“I’m surprised you don’t just eat it raw. Anyway, that’s how I used to cook it when my Dad insisted. I’m a vegetarian now and can’t stand the thought of cooking meat. The last time I tried to cook meat, it made me sick and I threw up right in the frying pan,” Amanda replied.
“Oh well, we’ll figure it out somehow. But look at them arms on you. I bet you can split wood all day. That’s good. Grannie’s house uses a lot. My cousins got her about eight cords last summer,” Kris was on a roll.
“Your cousins?” Amanda asked. “I thought you were the one helping her.”
“Well, they need wood each year too and they just love to help the old gal out, and who am I to stop them?” He actually laughed when he said it. “Sometimes I think they feel guilty that she is up here and they can’t do more for her.
“I know you like to work in the garden, that’s good. I don’t really care ‘cause I mostly eat meat. But if you’re a vegetarian, you’re gonna hafta grow quite a bit of stuff. I’m sure you can do it even when you’re pregnant and have the rest of the kids out there with you. I been thinking, we need about six of them,” Kris stated.
“Is that six gardens or six kids?” Amanda asked.
“Why, kids of course; unless you want more. I suppose you could have more but that’ll be a handful for you to watch when you’re doing the other stuff.”
“You’ve got it all figured out, huh? So your wife doesn’t get input on the number; she would have six kids and the seventh big one?” she asked facetiously.
The comment was totally lost on him. “Well I said you could have more, so sure we can have seven if that’s what you want.” His eyes took on a dreamy look as he thought of it.
Brad looked like he was going to hit him. Amanda stopped him with a look and shake of her head.
*****
With all of the crops planted, Bob decided they could begin working on the fuel supply. As Bill had told his family the previous fall it was much easier now, if only they had gas for the chainsaws. They would bring in three loads in the same amount of time that had been required to get one load home. Now they bypassed the huge trees Cal had coveted in the past. Instead they concentrated on smaller trees that they sawed down with the crosscut saw. Then they were drug to the landing with the cat, cut into manageable lengths with the cross cut and taken to the cabin on the trailer. There the logs were cut to stove length with the tractor mounted buzz saw. Still, they could bring in multiple loads each day.
Some days, Kris would appear on his horse and lean against a tree trunk and watch the work. Once they had as much wood in as Bob anticipated would be required for the winter, they doubled that amount. “I could be way off on what it takes to winter here, and it’s a whole lot easier to get it now than if there was six feet of snow on it,” he told them when saying they needed even more. “I was also thinking we could take a big load down to the market. We could use it for trade if we see anything we want. Or we could drop by the folks watching our houses.”
“Oh, can I go Uncle Bob?” Amanda asked. “And Brad too? I really would like to go see home and…, well, I’d just like to get out of here for a while if I could.”
“I think there’ll be room for you. But remember that it’s a working trip too,” he told her. “Maybe we could take some extra cheese and butter down too. Do you want to check with your mom on that?”
“Sure, although she still won’t make the goat cheese. But I think we can get some going in time.” She thought for a moment, blushed and gave him a quick hug. “Thanks Uncle Bob.”
*****
“Amanda, are you all right honey?” Amy asked as her daughter stared off into space and didn’t acknowledge that she had been spoken too. “Amanda?”
“What? Oh sorry Mom, what did you say?” A distracted Amanda said.
“I commented on how good the fresh peas are and then I asked if you would pass the bowl,” Amy told her. “And then I asked if you are all right. So are you?”
“Sorry Mom,” Amanda answered as she picked up the bowl and passed it down the table. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just thinking about getting to go with Uncle Bob tomorrow, that’s all.”
“Well your brother is going too and I don’t see him forgetting where he is and that this is the only supper we will have tonight.” Amy directed a look at Amanda’s nearly untouched plate while Brad was helping himself to yet another biscuit and jam. My goodness, Bob must have worked him hard today.
Amanda blushed from her Mom’s admonishment and began to slowly eat. Someone chuckled from down the table. Five people would make the trip in addition to Bob. Although Amy desperately wanted to go too, the pickup would be full and she knew Amanda needed to get away even worse than she did. That Kris is a lot to take.
That night, Amanda got little sleep. Her mind wouldn’t shut down as she thought about getting off the mountain, not having to watch for that buffoon Kris everywhere she went, getting to go home even if for just a short time, anticipating what and who she would see. She was still wired up when the sun started coming through the windows. She had the morning chores done, the fire roaring, water hot and breakfast started when the rest of the family started moving about.
Unlike the previous evening, Amanda wolfed through her meal, finishing long before anyone else. Then she began to fidget and urge Brad to eat faster. In typical brother fashion, the more she pushed, the slower he went. Eventually Brad pushed away from the table and joined Bob and Jim where they checked the load and got the fire going in the gasifier. Finally! Could you guys possibly move any slower?
When Amanda opened the door of the pickup to get in, Bob looked closely at her. “So, no water bottle? Are you going to help unload wood with your bare hands? I would recommend some gloves.”
Chagrined, Amanda turned and trotted away, returning with both in her hands in addition to the bag of lunch that had been packed for them. It seemed that the rest of the group was in slow motion as they got into the pickup to start down the mountain.
*****
“Uncle Bob, could you drop me off at our road, please? I can skip going to the market,” Amanda said as they began to get near their home neighborhood.
“Nope. I’m sure your mom would like you to see if there is anything available she needs,” Bob answered in his teasing way. "And I don’t want you walking around alone. You never know how things are now, even though we haven’t been gone that long.” His comments were made in complete seriousness.
“But Brad can go with me, then we’ll be fine,” she pleaded.
Bob caught her eyes in the rear view mirror. “Until we know what the situation is around there, we stay together. End of discussion.”
The look she shot him showed her displeasure at his decision. He glanced back at her and said, “No pouting now. That’s not one of the traits Mark likes in you.” Amanda’s face instantly turned bright red and she quickly looked out the side window.
Brad and Amanda looked at the wares on display at the various vendor booths, Amanda very uninterested in the activity. Brad pulled her to some jeans that looked right for her and Amy and finally got her somewhat engaged. Brad paid for the pants with some of his Dad’s hoarded silver dimes. They also picked up new work gloves. Eventually Bob and the rest of the group returned. Bob hadn’t found anything he wanted to trade the firewood for so they got in the pickup and drove back to their home neighborhood.
They were happy to see most of the garden patches lush and green. Russ was just leaving a field so they stopped to talk with him. As soon as he indicated everything was fine in the neighborhood, Amanda interrupted, “Can I go now, Uncle Bob?”
“Sure, get out of here,” he told her.
“Are you coming Brad?” she asked as she nearly drug him off of the seat. Everyone but Bob got out to go look around their own homes. He stayed to talk longer with Russ.
Brad and Amanda jogged to their house. Brad tried to go slower but his sister would have none of it. He was finding the entire situation humorous. He had never seen his calm and collected sister so….goofy. They slowed at their fence and looked everything over. Amanda breathed a sigh of relief at what she saw. She had been remembering the night before they went to the mountain; the nightmare of their neglected home.
It looked much as they had left it. Even the grass under the trees had been eaten down by goats. The rest of the place looked well kept. Even though the full garden wasn’t planted, all of the perennials had been watered and cared for. Weeds had not overtaken everything as she had feared. After they had looked around for a few minutes, Brad said, “OK, we can go over to his house now.”
“Wh,..what?” she asked.
“Don’t play dumb. I know where you want to go. Now let’s get with it before I change my mind,” he said smiling. “Besides, I miss him too.”
Amanda’s feet were tapping nervously as she knocked on the Williams family’s front door and waited for someone to answer it. Come on already. She was just reaching to knock again with the door swung open and Leslie looked out at her. “Amanda!” she exclaimed and stepped out and pulled the young woman into a strong embrace. “Brad!” and she gave him his own hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you both. Mark will be disappointed when he finds out he missed you.”
Amanda’s face dropped. “Mark’s not here?”
“No honey, I’m afraid not,” Leslie said. A bunch of men have been working on that canal bank and he went with them today. I’m guessing they won’t be back before dark. So come in, come in. Tell me all about living in the mountains.”
Amanda’s disappointment faded slightly as they talked about life on the mountain and what had been happening around the home neighborhood. It truly was a pleasure to talk with Leslie again. All too soon Bob rapped on the door. “Well there you two are. Thanks for all your help unloading that wood,” he said with a fake hurt look. “But now, we need to get going,” he told them. Amanda’s disappointment again registered on her face as she looked at her uncle. “After talking with Russ, I want to go see what the canal looks like before we head back up.” Brad and Amanda both instantly jumped to their feet and gave Leslie hugs before rushing to the pickup. Bob chuckled as he watched them go then turned to Leslie, “I take it your son must be with the crew working on the canal.”
“Oh, how could you tell?” Leslie answered. “The kids are looking good Bob. The mountain air must agree with them.”
“It’s different up there, but they’re managing. I think Amanda especially would like to be home. She seems pretty homesick at times. Well, we better go,” he told Leslie, turned and went to get in the pickup.
A group of men were adding dirt and rocks to a low wall in the canal breach when Bob parked the pickup. Most of the group was familiar, but there were a few strangers working. Everyone got out of the pickup and started towards the group activity. Amanda was anxiously scanning the faces.
Bob looked down at the low wall as Mike joined him and shook hands and began to describe the work. “We started by dredging out the bottom of the canal and moving everything over here. Once the bank was built up about two feet, we let some water start flowing and monitored it constantly. We can’t run a lot of water but it’s keeping our places and Jack’s watered. Each chance we have, we get another work party together and add more to it.” The canal that had been a favorite summer swimming spot for Bob and his siblings was flowing about a foot deep. No swimming in there for a while, but at least they are getting some water.
Bob asked about the concrete lining the curved section of bank that had suffered the worst of the flowing water. “Well, we kind of borrowed it from that flooded out subdivision.” When Bob looked at him questionably, Mike continued. “Since most of the houses suffered major damage, we didn’t figure people would just move back in any time soon. So we took as much of the sidewalk as we could. It was quite a job, but with jacks, timbers and cribbing blocks, we could get them up enough to put a trailer under them and bring them over.”
After Bob had seen all he wanted to see he began to round up his group for the drive home. He walked to where Brad, Amanda and Mark were engaged in conversation, “Sorry to break up the reunion, but we have to get going.” He turned back to give them privacy. It was odd because teasing Uncle Bob actually did sound sorry.
Brad shook his friend’s hand and pulled him into an embrace as he said good bye. Amanda took her turn and hugged Mark tight and whispered in his ear, “I’ve missed you Mark. A lot.” She followed that with a shy kiss that lingered a little longer than the last one she had given him. She stared into his eyes as she backed up a few steps before turning and jogging after Brad.
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Post by bretf on Jul 3, 2016 13:25:08 GMT
Chapter 32: Look at them beans
This time last year there sure was A lot of sad faces around this old house Our papa died without fulfillin' his life's dream Of producing one of the best crops in Grimes County
Though papa died with that dream still in his head A desire in his heart, a promise on his lips, calluses on both hands And two dollars in his pocket Papa didn't live long enough to see his dreams come true
So he died from too much work, broken spirit, I guess But I promised our mama that if it was a last thing he'd ever do He'd live long enough to see just one good crop come through But you see we can't plan on things without first talking to God
Because we don't know his plans And if we don't include him my friends the way can get mighty hard They say that every time a good and righteous person Is buried in God's good earth it's just fertilizer for the soil
And I guess there must be some truth to that Whether we believe it or not I just wish that papa was here right now So that he could see this good crop that we finally got
Hey look at that beans and look at that corn And I bet them watermelons must be three feet long Man look at them tomatoes and look at them peas Well I know if papa was here right now he'd sure be pleased
“Look at them beans” Performed by Johnny Cash Written by Joe Tex
“So did we jump the gun by coming up here?” Bob asked that evening between bites of supper. “I mean, they seem to be doing all right getting water going, so maybe we would have been all right staying home.”
Alan swallowed his mouthful and stated, “I’m fine here. I’m not missing it at all being down there.”
“Well I do miss it,” Jim’s wife Lori said. “The kids aren’t getting any interaction with other kids and I definitely miss Leslie’s teaching.” Jim and Lori had a son one year younger than Brad and a daughter two years younger than the boy. Even though the two boys were so close in age, each spent most of their time with their sister.
“That’s a good point, about school work,” Amy said. “Mellissa, Tammy, are you two up to teaching your kids everything they’ll need if things never get back to normal?”
Tammy looked doubtful and Mellissa just shook her head.
“Well I’m with Alan,” Carla said. “I’m totally fine being here. And Amanda is just so entertaining when she is leading Kris on and encouraging him like she does.” Carla was having a very hard time keeping a straight face.
“Leading him on? Encouraging him?” Amanda stated loudly. “I can’t stand to be around that buffoon. He makes my skin crawl every time I see him.” Carla busted out laughing at Amanda’s reaction. The poor girl.
“So it sounds like we are split; at least I am assuming you would rather be at home, Amy?” Bob said.
“Yes and no,” she said softly. “Bill’s presence is there everywhere. The reminders are good, but the pain and emptiness are even worse. I have a big hole in my life right now that needs time to fill. I’m not sure, but that might be easier up here.”
A quiet settled over the room as most of those present had their own thoughts of Bill.
Lori finally broke the silence,” So if we were to go back home, we don’t have any garden in and it’s too late to start fresh, and we don’t have any firewood either. It seems like we are here at least for this season but I want to see if we can do whatever is possible to go home for winter.”
*****
“I missed you yesterday and last night,” Amanda told Brad. Brad had been sleeping outside recently and had been moving deeper into the timber on a whim. Amanda was picking pole beans when he silently appeared beside her. She held a handful up. “Remember how much Dad liked fresh green beans after eating canned ones during the winter?” Amanda asked and then dropped them into her bucket. “He would love to see this crop.”
“Yeah, he’d be impressed with these. He did love his beans.” He was quiet before addressing her other comment, thinking.
“It seems strange with all this open space around, but then with everyone tight together here, I’ve just been feeling sort of boxed in. Remember Dad telling up about backpacking trips and how much he liked being away from people and waking up in the middle of nowhere? I finally get it. I can be real quiet and get right in with the wildlife as long as the breeze is the right direction. I sat and watched a mama bear and her cubs for about an hour yesterday evening. They never knew I was there. It was pretty cool.” Brad had a far-away look in his eyes as he finished speaking.
“I like to watch them too,” Amanda said. “As long as they keep their distance. So what did you think about the conversation the other night, about maybe going home?”
“I’ve got different views, which is kind of funny. You know, before the crash I liked to come up here for a day with Dad but couldn’t imagine living here. I had fun for a day, but was always ready to go back home. How could you live here without the internet, after all? But now after going through what we have, it is so cool up here. When I’m off by myself like yesterday, I just want to keep going and see what’s behind the next hill. I miss our home and old life, but not as much as I expected. I do miss Mark quite a lot though. You know what Mom said about Dad’s presence at home. I felt it when we were there pretty strong. But when I’m back in the woods, it’s like he is right there with me. Oh, I can’t explain it, but it’s like he’s watching out for me. Pretty silly, huh?”
“No it’s not silly. I know the feeling. I guess I like it here too and could be happy if not for you know who,” Amanda said with a frown. Brad chuckled at that. “But I miss home a lot. I would rather be there, but not if Mom and you weren’t there. It seems like the same thing though, since the crash. Get up, start a fire, milk the goats and cow, work all day in the garden, take a not warm enough shower, repeat again tomorrow. With all things being equal I miss the interaction with other people, civil people.”
They continued talking quietly while picking until Amanda heard an unwelcome sound. “Brad, did you step in something?” she asked quite a bit louder. “I think you better check your boots. I smell fresh poop; it smells like a lot of it.”
“Well there you are beautiful,” came an obnoxious voice. “You look so good today I can hardly stand it. I’m bettin’ when we get hitched we’re gonna have the best looking kids around. And not just around here, either. I mean how could they not be? You and me together? So I’ve decided the first one will be Kris junior.”
“Why stop at one. You could always do like George Foreman did. You could have a whole pack of little Kris’s running around,” Amanda retorted.
“Wow,” he said dreamily. “I never thought of that. You keep having good ideas like that and you can be the brain of the family to go with my looks.”
Brad looked at Amanda and grinned. “Yeah, I smell it now too. It’s a good thing we’re done with this row. Let’s head over and get these ready for canning. Uncle Alan is waiting for us. If we don’t get these beans to him, he’s sure to come and see what’s taking so long. I sure don’t want him ticked off at me.” They started to the cabin. Kris said he needed to be going. His granny had something for him to do. He left just as fast as he had arrived. Once he was out of earshot, Brad busted out laughing.
Something about Alan made Kris nervous. Alan thought it might be the bushy beard and long hair. Added to the purposeful comments Alan made toward Kris that made him come off about half crazy. Brad had been the first to notice the wariness Kris showed around Alan and had taken full advantage of it.
*****
“I’m thinking about going down to the market this week,” Bob said one morning. “Anyone want to ride along? I’ll bet those dried elder berries will be real popular, the butter always goes good and I’d imagine those elk antler sheds we picked up might have a market. Of course someone always wants firewood.”
“Uncle Bob, why don’t we take some goats to trade too? I love them all, but realistically we have too many to keep up here now. They’re fine now but winter feed would be tough with that many,” Amanda offered.
“That’s a good idea,” Bob answered. “Goats are more popular than ever.” Amy snorted at his comment.
Amanda was ready to ask for a spot to take the trip down, but she changed her mind when she saw the expectant looks on other faces. No, I guess I better let someone else go. I’ve been down since they have. She turned away but planned to check with Bob later if he had any seats available.
She walked slowly out to a rock outcropping. She had been spending a lot of time on the rock in the evenings. The slope below it was free of trees and offered an unobstructed view far down the river canyon – the view towards home. Oh Dad, why did you have to die? I know you thought it was best for us to come up here, but it’s horrible. We work all the time and never get to do anything fun. You made the work fun. You always had neat things for Brad and me and Mark to do. Now I’m looking out for that insufferable boor all the time. You know, I haven’t jammed with anyone since that last night with you. It’s like the music just dried up in me. I just wish you were still with us.
Amy came to the rock and put an arm around her daughter, pulling her tight. Amanda tilted her head and leaned it against Amy’s shoulder. “I was sure you would jump at a chance to ride down to the valley with Bob. Why didn’t you?”
It was a long pause before Amanda answered, “I’m afraid to. I miss Dad and home and everything so much sometimes, I’m afraid that if I go home, I won’t want to come back. Some days it feels like you and Brad are the only thing keeping me here. Well, and Uncle Bob and Aunt Frances.” She sat quiet again. “Didn’t you see the other's faces, Mom? They want to go home too. I’ve been there since they have. They need to see home again too.”
“My sweet girl,” Amy said softly. “I so wish you could have had a normal life like I did.”
The two sat quietly on the rock, sniffing occasionally and wiping at an errant tear. They watched as the long shadows come across the river canyon, followed by darkness until they could no longer make out the uneven line that pointed its indirect line back toward home.
*****
“Mom, let’s take the day off. With everybody going back home today, I want to do something different too,” Amanda said as they were cleaning up from breakfast.
“What did you have in mind?” her mother asked.
“Well, you remember when Brad and I came up here with Dad elk hunting and brought the goats along? He took us down a trail to a beautiful meadow. It had a lot of thimble berry bushes growing and a small stream running through the middle. We sat on a log and ate our snacks and just watched the meadow and hillside for a long time. Squirrels would chatter at us and we got to see a lot of birds flying over. I want to go there again.” Amanda had a far-away look in her eyes as she talked, remembering that hike many years ago.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Amy said. “Let’s pack some lunch and do it. It’s too bad your brother is off wandering and won’t be there too.”
“Yeah, I miss him when he’s not here, but he explained some of what he is going through. I’m glad he can find some peace that way,” Amanda answered. “So are you carrying our stuff in a pack or should I get one of the goats ready?”
Amy wrinkled her nose, “I can carry what we need just fine, thank you.”
I guess Mom will never change no matter how helpful the goats have been.
The two women were walking along a section of trail when a pine cone hit the ground at Amy’s feet. She didn’t think anything about it and kept following Amanda. Another pine cone plopped the ground at Amanda’s feet so she stopped and looked up. “That’s odd. There’s no tree there for it to fall out of or for a squirrel to drop it from,” she said, puzzled.
Yet another pine cone hit between the two women and Brad’s voice from a clump of brush said, “If you walk the noisily, you’re never going to see any elk or bears.”
“Brad?” Amy asked nervously. “Where are you?”
He materialized from some brush and walked to where they stood. “I’ve been right behind you since you hit the trail. Don’t you ever pay attention when you’re in the woods?”
“Don’t do that!” Amy admonished him. “You could have scared us all the way back to the cabin.”
“Really, the bears are more scared of you, and you are making too much noise. If there were any around here, you’ve chased them away already. But OK, I’ll try not to spook you. So what’s in the pack? Did you bring enough for me too?” he asked.
Amy laughed at the growing boy’s appetite. He had transformed from a picky eater that had to nearly be forced to eat into a seemingly bottomless pit. “I could never carry enough to satisfy you, but we’ll share what we have.”
“We were going to the meadow Dad showed us when we came hunting with him and brought the goats. Do you remember? Amanda asked.
“Oh yeah, I go up there a lot. It’s a pretty neat place,” he said. “Lead on.”
They made it to the meadow and Amanda pulled a blanket from the pack and spread it out in front of a downed log. “You were right, it’s beautiful here,” Amy said. “I see why Dad brought you here.”
The day was spent lazily; eating, napping, and chatting. Finally Brad said if they wanted to be at the cabin in time to do chores in daylight, they had to get going. Amanda turned on the trail to gaze over the meadow one more time and remember the first time she had been there.
*****
“Let’s step up on getting more firewood tomorrow,” Bob said when they were all sitting around the table. “If you guys are going to move back home,” he nodded towards the group that had ridden with him, “we need to have fuel and food ready for you when you go. Let’s take the cat and drag every dead tree we can find to where we can load it. As you know, we don’t have good fuel for the chain saws so it’s going to be a lot more work. If we can get the right size trees, saw them with the cross cut to a manageable length, we can bring them back and use the buzz saw on the tractor.”
What little slack time they had disappeared in the drive for ever more fuel. When they weren’t cutting wood, they were harvesting and preserving. The gardens and field had producing bumper crops. The canners were run deep into the night on many occasions. Amanda found one benefit to the work: Bob and Alan ran Kris off if he wouldn’t help. They were done being his entertainment.
As the weather cooled, Bob and Brad killed three elk that were processed into Mason jars. They were followed by three young pigs. All too quickly October was past; the gardens froze and trailers were loaded to take three families back to the valley. Amanda was giddy, excited, and anxious as she got in with Bob for the drive.
They hadn’t been at Jim and Lori’s long when the first neighbors started appearing, happy to see them and pitching in to help unload. Amanda looked up eagerly at each new arrival, searching for one face and anticipating.
“You need to quit moping, it’s not very becoming,” Bob said when they had everything unloaded. “Let’s go see how they are doing unloading at Mellissa’s.”
Amanda resignedly got in between Bob and Brad and made the short drive to Mellissa’s house. The unloading was going very well so she told Bob she was going to her house to look around. She wandered around aimlessly hardly noting that the place still looked in good order; that someone had been diligent in keeping it up. She found herself back under the cottonwood tree and absently lowered herself onto the rope and board swing her Dad had put there for them. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes tightly as she gently swayed.
“Hi Amanda,” she heard behind her. “I was hoping I’d see you.”
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