The heavy white frost didn't trash the horseradish leaves, but the most important part of that plant is underground. I won't harvest horseradish root until next year. Sometime I'll tell you the edge-of-your-seat horse radish story. You'll be on pins and noodles until then. The same is true for a small bit of carrots at the far end of the field, except for the thrill ride. I'm not sure if the Swiss Chard made it through the night.
Close to five yesterday afternoon, I went to the garage workshop for my mason's line and measuring tape to verify the exact location of the barb wire fence on our south line, I see see a woman Yoo Hooing as she enters the back door of our house."What the hay?" She wouldn't enter the garage proper because the paint fumes were so strong. I'm restoring a four by five foot, wooden flag replica that originally hung on the signpost to the entrance of our road. We replaced it with...
|Old shot with a defunct camera, sorry.|
At the end of the day it makes me feel god to put nine dollars in my pocket for a potato sale to a regular customer who'd jump over a dozen hurdles to get some Kennebecs. She picked out 12 pounds. I said I'd only charge her for 10 but she wouldn't hear it. In the end we compromised and I gave her a 60 cent discount. High finance in Kickapoo Center.
Jorge's coming over with his old truck and 8 foot trailer to toss tree branches to haul to the burn pile. I've got a few minutes to kill since he has to take one of his dogs, Chase, to doggy-day care. Both Chase and Sam are strays he's rescued including Spunky, his three legged cat.
Since he gets most of his news from magazines and TV, he's not heard the latest buzz going around the community. I dropped by the Amish to give the Matriarch some Tiger Eye bean seeds for next year. Watching the Patriarch run some cabinet door panels through his industrial size router, I wander around the workshop. I've never seen the engine that runs the whole set-up in the small room adjacent to the main work room which is filled with drill presses, joiners, belt sanders and a table saw the size of a rural airfield. I'm amazed when I peek in the room and read the label on the gas engine with an exhaust pipe extending out the wall. It's a Subaru. He also has a Ford six cylinder truck engine to run his farm equipment. I'm sure there's a Honda out there, too.
When we walk to the house and enter the warm kictchen, I give Mom the seeds and an empty egg carton. The Patrirach jabs a finger at the front page of the local newspaper. Scoop Daly, the local constable of police is on suspension for misconduct. I scan the article looking for the juicy bits. Nada.
"What'd he do?"I ask. If you want to know the deep down dirt in the community, just ask an Amish person. I wonder if Wilma saw me pick an apple from the tree next to the gravel road near their cow pasture. The Patriarch says," He was messing with the wife of the grocery store owner." Then he adds, " On duty."
This makes me think about the space between the good guys and the bad guys. Out here there's plenty of good guys and a share of bad apples. In between there's a space for the rest of us. I always thought that Scoop was a decent enough person. Now, I wonder about his judgment. On duty?
By the way Dawn, you left your credit card next to the computer. I'm going shopping.