Manure Tea
Planting was scheduled for Monday after school, but rain set in Saturday night and continued all day Sunday. Jennie stared out the window at church during the preacher’s sermon and out the apartment window that afternoon. The rain fell in a steady stream. It often rained in Seattle, but this was practically a deluge. The gutters along the street ran full, and the bucket her sister Trudy put out to catch rainwater to wash her hair overflowed. Aunt Irene assured Jennie that it only meant a day or two of delay while the garden dried out, but Jennie didn’t want to waste a day of growing time.
Colleen came over Sunday afternoon, and the two friends sat on the old sofa in the hotel lobby and planned their garden. Colleen liked to have things written down, so she had a scrap of brown paper and a stubby pencil.
“I think we should grow tomatoes and cucumbers and carrots,” Jennie said. “I hate beets.”
“And corn gets too tall.” Colleen wrote down their choices.
“We’ll have three chances to win the prizes and beat the boys,” Jennie said.
“Speaking of beating the boys,” Colleen said, “have you had any more bright ideas about how we’re actually going to get this stuff to grow?” She reached over to pick up a packet of seeds she had brought from home. “There are barely any instructions.”
Jennie took the packet and read the back for a minute before looking up with a frown. “I see what you mean. But don’t you think that you just put the seeds in the ground, cover them up with dirt, and they grow?” All the times she had seen Mr. Romano working with his pots of plants, it had seemed so easy. And Mr. Romano had beautiful, healthy-looking flowers and herbs.
“I think it’s harder than that,” Colleen said.
Jennie stared at the lobby floor and thought. “There must be someone who can help us. I already thought of Aunt Irene, but she said she wasn’t getting in the middle of another contest.” The girls fell silent as they racked their brains for a solution.
“Hi, there,” Mr. Romano called. “You two look mighty thoughtful there. You working on a big problem?” The neighbor had a sackful of groceries in his arms.
Jennie looked at her Italian friend for a moment and then turned slowly to Colleen. Jennie could tell by Colleen’s expression that she was having the same idea. Jennie jumped up from the couch. “Mr. Romano, let me carry those for you.”
“That’s not necessary,” Mr. Romano said, “but thanks for offering.”
“I insist, because we want to talk to you about that problem we’ve been thinking over.” Jennie succeeded in taking the groceries and motioned for Colleen to come.
Mr. Romano grinned and led the way to his apartment. “Now just what trouble have you girls got yourselves into this time?” He opened his front door and let Jennie and Colleen enter first.
“Not exactly trouble this time,” Jennie said, “but we do need some help.”
“Let’s see what I can do then,” Mr. Romano said.
The girls left Mr. Romano’s apartment at suppertime, and Colleen hurried home. The next day Jennie and Colleen talked over Mr. Romano’s advice. The rain had finally stopped, so the girls met on the playground to talk.
“What did you think about his growing tips?” Colleen asked.
“It didn’t sound too hard,” Jennie said. “In fact, he made it sound downright easy.” If they had the right fertilizer, that is. Mr. Romano called it manure tea, and it sounded nasty, but if that was what it took to grow prizewinning vegetables, then that’s what they’d use.
“When are we getting the manure?” Colleen asked.
“I suppose this afternoon after school is as good a time as any since we can’t plant until the ground dries out some,” Jennie said.
Mr. Romano had told them about a delivery service that had to go back to using horses and wagons for deliveries after their old truck broke down. He said they would have plenty of manure to get rid of.
“Too bad we weren’t looking for manure on Saturday morning when the plow horses came to town,” Colleen said. “They left plenty of droppings behind that the farmer had to clean up.”
Jennie laughed and nodded. “Meet me at the corner at the cigar shop at four o’clock this afternoon.”
Colleen saluted, and they both ran for the school door because the bell was clanging.
By the time the girls met, the sun had chased the lingering clouds out of the sky. “This should dry out the garden pretty quick,” Jennie said as they fell into step together.
“How will we carry the manure?” Colleen asked.
Jennie whipped a faded cotton sack out of her pocket. “Mama said we could have this old flour sack.”
“Did she know what we were putting in it?”
“She didn’t ask,” Jennie answered, “but she didn’t mention wanting it back.”
The delivery service’s makeshift stable was close to the waterfront. The girls loved that part of Seattle because there was always so much to see. Art had promised to take them sometime to see the underground tunnels that snaked beneath the streets near the waterfront. The tunnels were left over from the last century before the street level had been raised.
But this time, the girls went directly to the delivery service office and asked the woman sitting at a desk if they could collect some manure. She laughed and said she imagined that would be just fine.
“So how do we pick it up?” Colleen asked a few minutes later when they stood in the entry to the horse stalls and stared at the straw on the ground. A good supply of manure was scattered there. Luckily, the horses were out on a delivery.
Jennie looked around. “Good question. Why don’t you just use your fingers?”
“No!” Colleen said loudly. “I’m not touching that stuff with my bare hands.”
Jennie grinned. “I didn’t think so.” She looked around again and saw a broken piece of board in the corner. She picked up the board and held it out to Colleen. “Use this.”
“Go ahead.” Colleen stepped back.
Jennie took the flour bag out of her pocket and squatted down next to a likely looking pile of manure. “Take the bag,” she ordered.
Colleen carefully stepped forward and took the bag from Jennie. She held it open.
Carefully Jennie scooped up a small ball of manure and transferred it to the bag. She repeated her actions several times.
“That stuff smells terrible!” Colleen turned her head as far to one side as possible while still holding open the bag.
“It is a little ripe,” Jennie agreed. At last she threw her makeshift scoop back into the corner and stood up. “There, we’re done. That should make gallons of manure tea.”
Colleen stood, holding the bag as far in front of herself as possible.
“Are you going to carry it home that way?” Jennie asked. “You look pretty silly.”
“I guess so, because I’m not getting any closer to that stuff.”
“Here, give it to me.” Jennie took the bag. She held it by the top and kept the contents well away from her legs as she walked. In this way the two gardeners began the trip home.
They had only gone a block or two when Colleen jabbed Jennie in the side.
“What’s that for?” Jennie protested as she shifted her smelly burden.
“Quiet,” Colleen ordered. “Look over there.” She pointed to a group of men clustered in front of a tavern the girls were passing.
Jennie stared at the men, who laughed as they smoked and talked. What was she supposed to see? Her puzzlement ended when she recognized one of the men—a large fellow. It was Pietro.
Jennie looked at Colleen, and they hurried down the street and stepped into a doorway. They peeked back at the men, careful to stay out of sight.
“I thought he was on the day shift now,” Colleen said.
“Mr. Romano said Pietro was on twelve-hour day shifts.”
“Not today,” Colleen said. “Do you think he’s skipping work?”
“Maybe,” Jennie said. “Dad’s alwa
ys complaining about how many people don’t show up for work every day at the factory. He says it slows down the whole factory. I guess the shipyard is probably the same.”
“And this is Pietro we’re talking about.” Colleen peeked back again. “Say, look at his hands.”
Jennie looked again. Pietro was tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette. His hand looked red. “What is that?”
“Paint, maybe?” Colleen ventured.
“It doesn’t really look like paint.” While Jennie watched, Pietro threw his cigarette into the street and went inside the tavern with the other men. “I don’t know what that guy is up to. I wonder why he’s lying to Mr. Romano.”
“Should we tell Mr. Romano that we saw Pietro?” Colleen asked.
The girls started walking down the street again.
“No, I don’t think so. It might make him feel bad to know that Pietro wasn’t at work.” Jennie wished she could find out more about Pietro. Mr. Romano was too nice a man to have a lying cousin hanging around.
It was getting late by the time Jennie and Colleen reached the alley behind the hotel with their smelly bag.
“What will we put the manure tea in?” Colleen asked.
“An old bucket should work,” Jennie said. “I forgot to ask if we should put it on once when we plant the seeds or more often than that.”
“I don’t want to have to go back and collect more manure,” Colleen said firmly, “so save some of it for later. Put it under that broken crate over there. I’ll find a bucket for the tea.” Colleen looked around. “It’s getting dark. We’d better finish.”
Jennie moved the crate aside a little. “There’s an old bucket down by the fire escape stairs. Go get it while I dump some of this manure. We’ll get water and mix up the whole mess.” She held the bag and dumped part of its contents on the ground under the wooden crate.
Colleen returned in a few minutes with a bucket. “Here, this should do it.” She handed the bucket to Jennie. “It even had water in it already.”
“Good.” Jennie took the bucket. “Mr. Romano said to put the manure in a bag into the water.” Jennie knotted the top of the flour bag and gingerly poked it in the bucket. It floated until she took a stick and shoved it farther into the bucket.
“I don’t see how this will make the vegetables grow,” Colleen confessed.
“Mr. Romano said it was like steak and spinach to plants.” Jennie poked at the sack some more.
“I have to go home,” Colleen said. “Do you leave the sack in the water?”
“I don’t know,” Jennie said. “I’ll have to ask Mr. Romano that, too.”
“You better take it out for now,” Colleen said, “until you can ask him. It might be too strong if you leave it in there until tomorrow.”
“You’re right,” Jennie agreed. “We wouldn’t want to kill our seeds before they even get started.” She used the stick to lift out the sopping sack, which was now an unfortunate shade of brown, and scooted it under the crate with the extra manure. The bucket of freshly brewed manure tea was left beside the back hotel door. She’d check with Mr. Romano later to see if she should put the sack back in the water.
Supper was Jennie’s wartime favorite—beans and cornbread. She ate until she was stuffed and then sat down to listen to the war news on the radio. Sometimes it seemed like that was all that was on the radio these days, but she knew it was important to know what was happening all those thousands of miles away on the other side of the world. The family gathered around the radio to listen together most evenings.
Except for Trudy, who often skipped that ritual. She said it was almost as hard not to hear any news related to her fiancé, Mike, as it was to hear bad news. Mike Fancher had been missing in action in China for two years.
Jennie noticed Trudy walk past the living room door in their apartment, carrying a bucket. Jennie didn’t pay much attention since Trudy was always washing her hair with the rainwater she collected.
The announcer had just signed off when a scream echoed through the apartment. Jennie jumped up, followed by everyone else. The scream had come from the bathroom, and now there were angry noises coming from the same room.
In seconds they all crowded in the open bathroom door. A red-faced Trudy with fire in her eyes stood before them. She was dressed in her bathrobe, and her hair dripped water over her face and robe.
“What’s wrong?” Mama asked.
“I started to wash my hair.” Trudy waved at the sink. “With my rainwater. The same rainwater that I always collect. In the same bucket.” She glared at her family. “But it seems that someone has put some horrible concoction in my bucket without telling me.” She held out a strand of her hair. “It smells like …” She hesitated as words apparently failed her. “It smells like a barnyard!” she burst out finally.
Jennie backed away from the group. This was as good a time as any to visit Mr. Romano.
“Jennie!” Mama grabbed Jennie’s arm.
Jennie smiled as innocently as she could.
“Do you know anything about this little mishap?” Mama asked.
“Sort of. Colleen and I were making manure tea for fertilizer for our garden.”
“I put manure tea on my hair?” Trudy shrieked.
Jennie wiggled behind Art, who was laughing uproariously. Trudy tried to grab her little sister, and in the process, the foul-smelling water in her hair flew in droplets over all of them.
“Wait, Trudy,” Mama said and glared at Dad, who looked to be holding in laughter, too. “We’ll take care of Jennie. You wash your hair.”
Jennie peeked out from behind Art. “It’s good for plants. Maybe it would be good for your hair, too.”
Trudy returned to the bathroom.
“I’m waiting.” Mother tapped her foot as she waited for Jennie to go into the living room. “This had better be good.”
Jennie grinned. “Oh, it is. It’s patriotic, even.” She hoped that fertilizer for a Victory garden fell into that area.
Mama just rolled her eyes.
CHAPTER 6
The Victory Garden Contest
Too bad Mama made you share your secret weapon,” Tommy said one hot July day when they arrived at the Victory garden to work in their plots.
“If you’ve said that once, you’ve said it a hundred times.” Jennie chopped a weed that dared to grow near the tomatoes.
“Without that manure tea, our vegetables probably wouldn’t be nearly as big as yours,” Tommy said. “You might have won the contest hands down. Too bad that won’t happen now.” He wiped a pretend tear from the corner of his eye and walked off.
Tommy had been teasing Jennie about the manure tea for weeks now. Trudy had forgiven Jennie long ago, but Tommy wouldn’t let her forget it. According to Mama, it wasn’t important who had the biggest tomatoes or cucumbers. It was important to do everything possible to help win the war so Roger and Mike and all the soldiers could come home. Apparently Tommy didn’t agree.
Both gardens now had large glossy tomatoes and long shiny cucumbers. The boys had planted corn and beets, and Jennie had to admit that the vegetables looked great. Even the carrots were fat and long. Some of the other gardens had vegetables that looked almost as good, but Jennie was convinced that the fertilizer had made the difference.
Actually she had been using one more of Mr. Romano’s growing tips. It was more secret than the manure tea. Even Colleen didn’t know, but Jennie hoped it would make the difference come judging time. Hoeing finished, she looked around to see if anyone was near before she sat down among the tomato plants to give them a dose of fertilizer. But this time it wasn’t manure tea.
“Nancy, you’re looking especially fine today,” Jennie said in a low voice. “And Oscar, I’ve never seen you looking so healthy. Mary, your tomatoes have grown since yesterday. Now, all of you just hold on a day or two. Dad says it’s bound to rain tomorrow.”
A chuckle made Jennie jerk her head. Colleen stood nearby with a puzzled grin.
“What are you doing?” Colleen asked. “Talking to the tomato plants?”
Jennie jumped up. “Quiet!” she ordered before glancing around to see if Tommy was still in his plot. “It’s my other secret weapon. Mr. Romano says that he always talks to his plants. He thinks that makes them grow better.”
“So you were talking to them,” Colleen said.
Jennie tilted her head and grinned before nodding. “I gave them names so it wouldn’t feel quite so silly. This is Mary and Nancy and Oscar, and the others have names, too.”
Colleen looked uncertain whether she should laugh or not. Finally she shrugged and asked, “Do you think it’s working?”
“I can’t be sure,” Jennie said, “but I think so. Some of our tomatoes seem to be growing faster than the boys’ tomatoes. Mr. Romano says it works for him. What can it hurt? If you don’t tell anyone, that is.”
“Oh, I won’t be telling anyone that my best friend is sitting in the middle of a tomato patch telling the plants how wonderful they are,” Colleen said. She plopped down in the dirt near the cucumbers. “I’m ready. What do cucumbers need to hear to make them grow?”
Jennie laughed and sat next to Colleen. “I usually tell them how shiny and green they’re looking, but you don’t have to talk to them today. It’s not really their turn.”
“Whew!” Colleen said. “Thank goodness. I may have to think a little about what to say, especially to the carrots. They’re probably more particular than cucumbers. Thank goodness we don’t have any sweet corn.”
The girls flopped backward in the dirt and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Tommy called and walked down the path to stand over them.
“Oh, nothing,” Jennie assured him. She wasn’t about to give away another gardening secret to her brother. Colleen got up and went with Tommy to see the boys’ vegetables, but Jennie remained where she was. She liked the smell of nearly ripe tomatoes that blended with the aroma of warm dirt.
The Victory garden had helped her not think about the war so much, which was funny since the only reason they had a Victory garden was because of the war. Jennie was glad to hear her parents talk about normal, everyday things like how long before the tomatoes would be ripe, and she liked to argue with her brothers and sisters about the best kind of pickles to make with the cucumbers.
American Triumph: 1939-1945: 4 STORIES IN 1 Page 26