We All Love A Good Story
 | S P A C E R | The Shirt Farmer....also known as "rambling yankee". But don't we all love a good story? Here's a few of mine. |
Okay, it's deep summer here. There have been complaints that I haven't written in a while. Frankly... I'm surprised anyone is reading these posts. But, I've been busy in the gardens, making deliveries, pressing shirts, entertaining boys (um....that sounds funny doesn't it?....I mean my son and his buddies!)
Actually, the only reason I'm sitting at the computer right now is because of a complaint of no new stories......and it's raining......again. I should be in the shower because I have to make a delivery in about an hour. I should be in the garden weeding. I should be hooking up that new printer and press set-up....... I should be....well, that's how it goes isn't it?
If you've looked at our shirts, you've seen the "Fish Finder" one. I've put a little note that I almost caught that one last summer. Well, I've been going back to our top secret spot to try and catch it again. A few times I bothered to "do my hair" and put on a little makeup. My son got a kick out of this. I wanted to "look good" when I caught that fish because I wanted to post a picture with that shirt to prove the catch. We actually had discussions a few different times we were getting ready to go. "Where are you Mom?" "I'm upstairs brushing my hair." "So you'll look good for the fish huh?" "You probably won't catch it. Knowing your luck, if you do, you'll be all wet or sweaty." .........."Or I'll forget the camera." I added.
Well, actually it was all three. I was wet. I was sweaty. And I forgot the camera. But I caught it! It was the biggest fish of my life! I was so happy, but disappointed. No camera. This is just like any other fish story.
Except....there were two boys and a father sitting on the dock of their waterfront home. Their eyes were as big as saucers! "Look at the size of that fish!" " I've never gotten one like that!"
And the clincher......we went back to that spot another day. My hair was all done up, I was refusing to take a dip, and I had the camera. I didn't catch the fish.....but those boys, the father, and the mother were sitting out on their deck again. The father yells out, "Are you the ones that caught that huge fish?" My son points at me. "She caught it." The mother yells out..."Well, you are a legend in our house!"
GRIN
I'll admit it....I'm a neat-freak. I like everything in it's spot. My analytical mind is always looking for ways to conserve and "everything in it's spot" conserves time. If everything is in it's spot, I can tell at a glance what is needed or is excess. I try to be a minimalist, but it is simply amazing what comes through the door each day!
Well, I'm the one lugging things through the door lately. My father built a nice potting bench for me a while back. It was in the garage, but I decided it'd get more use if it was in the cellar (near the cozy woodstove!) With it comes all the flats, pots, potting mixes, fertilizers (blood meal, bone meal, fish emulsion....that sort of stuff) and tools. The wheelbarrow does double-duty as a mixing bin.
We also built a nice "growing room" for germination and early plant growth. It's about 12'x8' and needed lights and mechanical air circulation. This is also in the cellar (urrr....nursery).
Anyway, with production ramped up to full speed, I've quickly exceeded the Growing Room's capacity. It is a toasty 75-8o degrees in there...perfect for the tomatoes and peppers. Herbs like it a bit cooler, so they managed to migrate to the dining room and living room. Just for a few weeks, until they can be transplanted and hardened off.
Now, when I grew just for us, this was fine. Maybe 5 or 6 flats under a light in the corner of the living room was a nice break from the winter doldrums. My son would visit the plants daily to watch their progress. This is different. There are so many plants, you lose track of the individual plants(well, except me.....it's my job to keep an eye on them all.) It isn't entertaining now. It's this "THING" that has taken over our home.
Within these few weeks it seems chaos has settled in. The clutter does something to your mind. Focus is no more. You can probably tell by my writing.....clarity is elusive! Then comes the final kick in the pants.....My son walks in (usually greeted with yummy smells from the kitchen) and states, "It smells like dirt in here."
I've started lugging greenhouse books and catalogs through the door.
It has been quite a winter! We've had plenty of snow, but we've also had a bit more rain than I ever remember. That makes for some really heavy snow, or worse..... slush that freezes.
The past three storms have dropped what seemed to be insignificant amounts. The temperature rose enough that perhaps spring would be early and the snow would just melt? The groundhog didn't think so....but I don't think the groundhog thinks. He reacts. He pops up to see us cabin-fevered crazies wringing our hands waiting to see what he'll do. I can tell you what I'd do......
I'm being that typical rambling yankee again aren't I?
Anyway, we didn't tend to our snow removal chores. The mailman refuses to deliver if he can't reach the mailbox. Yesterday I watched him drive by. This drives me crazy.
So, on with the pack boots, and out I go. When I get up there I'm amazed at the damage the plow did. All that slush was piled up at the edge of the road and froze. I took a few whacks at it with the shovel. Sure, it broke some chunks off, but the shovel bent too. My back wasn't too happy about the whole thing either. I decided to break out the heavy artillery.
I trudged out back to get my tractor. The bucket was buried under a thick layer of ice. I kicked it a bit to break up the crust. I knew it was useless. There was too much snow and ice around it-- and it has turf tires on. But I jumped on and started her up anyway. I guess I was hoping to fast-forward to spring. (Now Dad...and brother...I don't want to hear a thing out of you two, after all....isn't that your tractor stuck out in the field right now?)
So I trudged back to the road with another shovel. It was going to be a back-breaking day. I was at it for about ten minutes...sweating, hair everywhere....and barely a dent. A man stops. He has a plow! He offers to help so I move out of the way. He clears the top of the driveway in a few swipes. Then he waves and moves on.
Well. The mailbox is still buried.
I started hacking away at it again. All the while I'm festering.I know I shouldn't be....but well, I was. I stand and stretch my back. My eyes fall on the old Jeep. It's 4wheel drive, and has some mean tires. I really don't like that vehicle. It's a gas hog. Wastefullness is a major irritation for me. Perhaps I could put it to good use though.
I trudge back in and grab the keys to the Jeep. I take off my bulky coat so I can handle the ride better. Oh yeah....you know it! Not too long and I'm up on the bank in front of the mailbox. I put it in gear and floored it. The icy snow roostertailed right out behind me.....into the driveway! A few of these maneuvers, and five minutes later my job is done!
It was easy to clean up the driveway mess too. After all, the Jeep made it light and fluffy.
I don't always do as I'm told. I'm a stubborn yankee....although...... that conjures up an image of a foot-stomping, scowling hick in overalls and muck-boots doesn't it?! That's not me. I'm the pleasant, quiet and smiling --"I'll do it when I feel like it"-- stubborn yankee. I don't wear overalls because they make me look fat, but I love muckboots! I also go off on urelated tangents, Here's the bull pen story.....
I think I was about ten.....aware of right and wrong, and only partially aware of consequences. My grandmother....Nana....asked me to gather the eggs. The chicken coop was in a corner of the barn. The large tractor door next to it allowed you to see that part of the barn from the house.
Ah, the dusty chicken coop with creepy cob-webs! Other than that, it was a really neat place! There were empty apple crates stacked here and there. Hay fell through the cracks from the loft above and mixed with the shavings and sawdust. The chickens had tons of running and flapping room. I guess you could compare it to a modern play gym for toddlers. Only, with pecking hens.
The eggs were hidden everywhere. I had to stick my hand into the crates and feel around. I had to stick my hand behind the crates and feel around. I had to stick my hand.....ewwwww!
Actually, I was pretty used to finding things that make you go ,"ewwww". Only this time it was extra slippery, and as I pulled the egg out, I dropped it. I watched it roll right down the front of my shirt, down my pantleg and break in my rolled up cuff.
I had never broken an egg before. Nana had taught me to be very careful. "Food is important, and you must remember-- 'waste not, want not'." I sat on a crate wondering what I should do. I could wipe the egg away, cover the goo with sawdust, and tell her I only found as many eggs as was in the pail. But that would be a lie. I stood up and paced around.
It was during that pacing and thinking that I noticed a small square hole in the chicken coop wall. It was up high....maybe six feet. The light coming through wasn't bright like it would be if it led to outside. But that is how I pictured the barn to be.....with the chicken coop against an outside wall.
This is where an adult's mind is very different from a child's. An adult would exit the chicken coop, and take a short walk to find that window on the outside of the barn. A child......
I had to see where it went. I gathered some crates and built a pyramid so I had steps up to the "window". I climbed up and peered out. There was a roof just above, and looking down I saw ground. Straight out about ten feet or so was a wall made of wooden planks. To the left was open to the outside. To the right was another wooden wall with a door. I had never seen this place! I could fit through, and jump down. It wasn't too far.
Plop....I was down. Only, on this side there were no crates. I looked up to the window. From this side it was more like seven or eight feet up! Oh well. I'd just go around. As I walked toward the opening, I could see something dark through the cracks between the wall planks. I stopped. It moved. It was big! I mean BIG! And, it was moving toward the opening I was headed for. I turned to go the other way. The door was closed, but hopefully I could push it open.
That's when Nana yelled across the barnyard, "Amy, where are you?" I ran to the door and pushed. It didn't budge. I yelled back, "I'm in here." I put my eye to the crack. I could see her standing on the doorstep, tipping her head to zero in on my voice. "Where?"
I looked back, and just turning the corner was a head with huge horns. It was the bull! I guess I must have screamed, because when I put my eye to the crack again I saw Nana running. Any other time Nana needed to move fast, it was a funny quick scoot-walk. This time, she was running. Fortunately, the barnyard isn't very big. She flipped the latches and pulled me through.
We were both shaking. "What were you doing in there?" she whispered. I just started crying. "I broke an egg....and I didn't want you to be mad."
My uncle lives on the farm now. Recently while my brother and I were visiting him, I told that story to them. My uncle said he didn't believe Grandpa kept bulls on the farm at that time......the AI man did the job.
So, I guess it was just one of Grandpa's larger cows that scared me. But, until just a bit ago, I always thought it was a bull.
If you have children and haven't heard of "Roots and Shoots", you may want to do a search for it on the internet.
The Shirt Farmer.com web-site is here in part because of the 'Roots and Shoots' plastic bag campaign. Once we discovered how many plastic bags were being used daily, and what they do to the land, my son decided he needed to let as many people as possible know about it. It was just before Christmas, so I suggested he give some re-usable bags to all our family members. He could decorate it, and tell them how important it is to try to avoid using any disposable bags. This is what he came up with.....
Side one........then side two
Well, some of the family was impressed. The bags he gave were book bags though, which are fine for light shopping, but grocery bags need to be deeper. I looked around and found some.
I thought it would be fun to promote re-usable bags as another form of self expression......just like tee-shirts. If we are to carry these things around all the time, for all the purchases we make, why not express ourselves on them....instead of some business advertisement?
So, here we are! And now you know why we sell bags.....the tee shirts are strictly for fun!
UPDATE- China has initiated a ban on thin plastic bags within their country....effective June this year (08). They will also impose a fine on other plastic bags.