IN THE FALL --- "The old man and his dog"
In early fall, the days can be warm as summer, the leaves bristling in the breeze and shades of green turning to gold or crimson. The smell is somehow different than summer, as the squirrels harvest the nuts that have fallen from the oaks.
It was such a day the old man recalled as he contentedly watched the deer browse, the birds gathering seeds while he was content to loaf and just take it all in. Oh, what a day! Until, he heard this voice that was not unfamiliar say” you know the view would be better if the buckthorn were not there”. And, of course she was right as wives tend to be. He peeked through the buckthorn at the wetlands beyond, untouched by humans and the home of the deer, fox, groundhog and many rabbits. He wondered what life was all about for these animals beyond the buckthorn. There were marsh marigolds, blue wildflowers, a large tamarack tree, tall grasses and sumac. There were smells that were different from the backyard. There were large hawks, owls, and numerous other birds and creatures that called this wetland home. It would be nice to visit this area as a view or even better as a passage though it to the woods on the other side. All of this being natural and untouched should be enjoyed by all he thought.
Since, wives seem to be right about these things it was not long before the days of the buckthorn would come to an end. Yes, the old man in this story in tattered blue-jeans would find himself enjoying his view with a chainsaw in hand. The buckthorn would be no match for the old man trying to stay in the good grace of his chosen companion.
It was unseasonably hot as the hundreds of buckthorn fell to the ground, wounding the old man with their thorns. He was covered with sweat, sap, dirt, dripping blood, and stains from the many sodas to quench his thirst. But, after several days the swath of thorns, twenty feet thick and over seventy feet long, were reduced to piles of limbs and leaves too high to see over or through. The old man pondered over this plight and another soda. Too many to haul away or burn easily he thought, and he decided that the piles should be reduced to woodchips.
The buckthorn now cleared , opened up a new wonder for those beautiful fall days. You could see the tall grasses swaying in the breeze, the deer foraging used them for cover as they approached a new vista for them --- Hostas. The view was impaired where the buckthorn had been removed. Taking out the stumps and massive root structures would solve the problem but the old man thought, why not just cover it with black dirt and make a garden. Soon, the fall days grew shorter and then colder but day after day the old man, his wheelbarrow and his faithful dog “Bouncer” would be seen making trip after trip, until the many truckloads were put in place one wheelbarrow load at a time. The faithful companion made every trip even though he could hardly hear or see and arthritis and cancer were taking its toll. He seemed to know this was a special place also, and used his sense of smell to explore. He thought he could catch the deer but they would humor him knowing he had a better chance of catching his tail.
It would be spring before the garden, now many gardens would be finished. The old man looked out over the gardens and wetlands and it was wonderful. The birds were chirping, the smell of spring, flowers emerging, his faithful companion at his side. Oh, what a day! Now, without the presence of his wife, he thought, a pond would surely make the view better. And, if we’re going to have a pond shouldn’t there be a stream?
Soon, the old man was reading books and digging holes for a pond, a stream, and of course waterfalls. His companion “Bouncer” doesn’t have the bounce he was named for now, but he supervised well, even though it seems he was on break most of the time and occasionally got caught napping. Oh, what a day! Soon the pond and stream were done and one could observe the birds standing in line to take a bath and sometimes impatiently all at once. The fish in the pond did not seem to disturb them, and even “Bouncer” seemed content to let them enjoy the day or perhaps it was too hard to get up. And, if he could talk he would probably tell you that the old man was on break too. Only until two bucks came through the garden. It was not clear who was more startled the deer or the old man as they both jerked as they had been unaware of the others presence. Bouncer rolled over and decided the deer should not disturb his nap.
The woodchips from the buckthorn soon became paths throughout the many gardens. As the woodchips worked so well making paths it soon became clear that another twenty truckloads or more would be distributed by the old man and “Bouncer” who continued to make every trip. The paths would lead through the wetlands and finally reach the campground. I mean isn’t it obvious that one would make a campground at the end of the trail. Really, it was just a few truckloads of dirt, remove some more buckthorns, plant some grass, add a fire ring, run out a water line five hundred feet, buy a tent, and invite the old man’s grandkids for s’ mores and their first ever campout. Oh, what a day!
The grandkid’s each have their own trail named after them, have painted their own trail sign, and enjoy charades while camping at Kamp Akaycia. Bouncer finished his job here and is now making new trails. The old man is either sitting by the stream, or listening to the birds at the campground. Oh, what a day! IN THE FALL.
Do You Have A Shovel?
It was a fine fall day and feeling like I needed to be outside I decided to visit the St. Paul recycling center to drop off some pruned branches and get a trailer load of woodchips. After spending about 25 minutes loading the trailer with a heaping load of chips I had built up a mild sweat and was feeling really good while enjoying the beautiful fall day. As I turned with pitchfork in hand prideful that I accomplished this task a voice called to me --- "Do you have a shovel?" I turned to face a lovely elderly lady who was old enough to be the mother of this already very old me.
No, I don't, I replied, observing that she had 3 small pails in hand. I said that I had a pitchfork and that I would be happy to fill her pails for her. She replied that would be nice but don't fill them full because she would not be able to lift them. Well, I will be happy to carry them to your car for you I said. After all, it was pretty obvious she was frail and slight of build and it would be difficult for her and would only take seconds and very little effort on my part.
After completing this new task on such a lovely day we began a short visit about gardening and life. She has been gardening her whole life, all 97 years and today she decided she needed some woodchips. She had planned well and had a small rug laid in her trunk in case some chips were to fall from her buckets.
And then the rest of the story,
We bid our goodbyes, and we were on our way -- not knowing we would meet again!
It was another fine fall day ( a few weeks later) and it felt like another load of woodchips would help fill in the low spots on the trail to the campground and keep my shoes from getting muddy during the spring thaw. So there I was at the huge pile of chips just finishing my load and marveling at what a great day it was with my pitchfork in hand when, "Do You Have A Shovel?"
and there she was with her small pails in hand and well we know the rest. Or do we? Will she be there next time? I certainly hope so! At 97 she is too young to quit gardening. AND,
AIN’T SHE SWEET!
In a previous issue I told the story of the 97 year old lady that on two occasions asked “Do you have a shovel” and I obliged to load her tiny buckets up with woodchips. I am still amazed that at her age she is still going to the compost site to get mulch.
Well I was back today after the recent storms had given me cause to cut up some tree limbs and return to the compost site to unload a trailer load of limbs and branch’s. I had just begun to unload the first and very heavy limb when I was treated to “Do you need some help” - yes, you guessed it. She must be 98 now but she was offering to help me unload my trailer with a beaming smile. Oh, what a day!
LITTLE ONES!
It was a warm sunny day and it was wonderful being able to spend the entire day in the garden, but as the day waned so did my body as I began to tire from the long day. It was about then I heard the chirping of the little ones. Oh, the birds had been there all day along with squirrels and even a few wild turkeys not to mention the lone deer in the distance. But, this chirping was from Fernando and Tanaya as they came to say “Hi Neighbor”. Now Tanaya is about seven and Fernando is about five.
Tanaya wanted to know my name again as she told me she keeps forgetting. She thought that she should give me a different name so she could remember it more easily. It was decided that she would call me “Gardening Man”. The questions came fast and furious. How do I know which ones are weeds? What’s that one called? It took at least 45 minutes to answer all their questions. Tanaya was careful not to step on any plants and informed her little brother to be careful where he was walking. Mom must have taught them well. Tanaya decided that her favorite was the one that was not a Rose but smelled good and was just as pretty. She pointed it out to me and I told her that it was a Peony. Now Fernando asked me the name of every plant and so I asked him if he could read. He informed me that he could and so I pointed out that each plant in my garden had a plant label with its name on it. He pointed at a plant and told me that it was his favorite. Well what is its name I asked, and he told me it said “Holy Moose Ears” -- He was close as it was a small Hosta called Holy Mouse Ears.
I was tired when they arrived but the joy in their little faces brought me back to life and the full day in the garden was a day to remember. Tanaya and Fernando have moved and I only see them when they come to visit now. But, the thrill of their return is amplified with shrill high volume “Hi Neighbor” as they carefully explore the garden after leaving their bikes in the middle of the street. Tanaya still likes the one that is not a Rose.
It was a fine fall day and feeling like I needed to be outside I decided to visit the St. Paul recycling center to drop off some pruned branches and get a trailer load of woodchips. After spending about 25 minutes loading the trailer with a heaping load of chips I had built up a mild sweat and was feeling really good while enjoying the beautiful fall day. As I turned with pitchfork in hand prideful that I accomplished this task a voice called to me --- "Do you have a shovel?" I turned to face a lovely elderly lady who was old enough to be the mother of this already very old me.
No, I don't, I replied, observing that she had 3 small pails in hand. I said that I had a pitchfork and that I would be happy to fill her pails for her. She replied that would be nice but don't fill them full because she would not be able to lift them. Well, I will be happy to carry them to your car for you I said. After all, it was pretty obvious she was frail and slight of build and it would be difficult for her and would only take seconds and very little effort on my part.
After completing this new task on such a lovely day we began a short visit about gardening and life. She has been gardening her whole life, all 97 years and today she decided she needed some woodchips. She had planned well and had a small rug laid in her trunk in case some chips were to fall from her buckets.
And then the rest of the story,
We bid our goodbyes, and we were on our way -- not knowing we would meet again!
It was another fine fall day ( a few weeks later) and it felt like another load of woodchips would help fill in the low spots on the trail to the campground and keep my shoes from getting muddy during the spring thaw. So there I was at the huge pile of chips just finishing my load and marveling at what a great day it was with my pitchfork in hand when, "Do You Have A Shovel?"
and there she was with her small pails in hand and well we know the rest. Or do we? Will she be there next time? I certainly hope so! At 97 she is too young to quit gardening. AND,
AIN’T SHE SWEET!
In a previous issue I told the story of the 97 year old lady that on two occasions asked “Do you have a shovel” and I obliged to load her tiny buckets up with woodchips. I am still amazed that at her age she is still going to the compost site to get mulch.
Well I was back today after the recent storms had given me cause to cut up some tree limbs and return to the compost site to unload a trailer load of limbs and branch’s. I had just begun to unload the first and very heavy limb when I was treated to “Do you need some help” - yes, you guessed it. She must be 98 now but she was offering to help me unload my trailer with a beaming smile. Oh, what a day!
LITTLE ONES!
It was a warm sunny day and it was wonderful being able to spend the entire day in the garden, but as the day waned so did my body as I began to tire from the long day. It was about then I heard the chirping of the little ones. Oh, the birds had been there all day along with squirrels and even a few wild turkeys not to mention the lone deer in the distance. But, this chirping was from Fernando and Tanaya as they came to say “Hi Neighbor”. Now Tanaya is about seven and Fernando is about five.
Tanaya wanted to know my name again as she told me she keeps forgetting. She thought that she should give me a different name so she could remember it more easily. It was decided that she would call me “Gardening Man”. The questions came fast and furious. How do I know which ones are weeds? What’s that one called? It took at least 45 minutes to answer all their questions. Tanaya was careful not to step on any plants and informed her little brother to be careful where he was walking. Mom must have taught them well. Tanaya decided that her favorite was the one that was not a Rose but smelled good and was just as pretty. She pointed it out to me and I told her that it was a Peony. Now Fernando asked me the name of every plant and so I asked him if he could read. He informed me that he could and so I pointed out that each plant in my garden had a plant label with its name on it. He pointed at a plant and told me that it was his favorite. Well what is its name I asked, and he told me it said “Holy Moose Ears” -- He was close as it was a small Hosta called Holy Mouse Ears.
I was tired when they arrived but the joy in their little faces brought me back to life and the full day in the garden was a day to remember. Tanaya and Fernando have moved and I only see them when they come to visit now. But, the thrill of their return is amplified with shrill high volume “Hi Neighbor” as they carefully explore the garden after leaving their bikes in the middle of the street. Tanaya still likes the one that is not a Rose.