“There’s certainly no hurry on the fish pond, but what’s the plan?” I was more than curious, and wanted to make sure I had some input this time. I looked over at the new pond sitting empty in the corner.
“I don’t want to wait too long, because finding some aquatic plants might be difficult. Once we have them though, I’ll need to do something with them.”
“I think if we put some rocks in the pond on one side, we can use them to wire the plants in place until they can take root,” I suggested. “And although the fish won’t have any predators to hide from, like eagles or geese, I’d like to have maybe some driftwood for a more natural habitat.”
“That would solve a problem that’s been bothering me. I think I’ll ask Eric to gather up some large rocks, then a couple of buckets of creek bottom. The fish will need a sand and gravel bed if we want them to spawn. Any thoughts on what kind of plants you want?”
“I think I’d like some cattails and water lilies, maybe some marsh marigolds.” Just those three plants would add a great deal to the new pond, in both habitat and color.
“Those should be easy enough to find. The cattails and marigolds are just down the road, and I know a spot on McKenna’s Bay where I’ve seen lilies.”
I could see his mind drifting away with plans, and knew better than to interrupt his creative moments. Besides, I had bread to bake.
JOURNAL ENTRY: June 3
The news tonight just reaffirmed in my mind that things were not going well in the rest of the country. There were more riots in the cities that are still under Martial Law and heavy curfews. Refugees from the middle sized cities of 150,000 are invading the countryside and farms looking for food and relief from the violence, only to bring the violence with them. And new diseases are emerging, some flu-like viruses, some bacterial and highly communicable.
* * *
CHAPTER 11
June 4
I pulled into the parking lot at Eagle Beach at 7:50 A.M. This was the start of the morning massages for John and now Sven, too. Inwardly, I was thankful it was a cool morning so my wearing long pants to hide the stitches on my shin didn’t seem unusual.
I was ready at eight o’clock sharp, and Sven took the first massage. Even though I know John waits so he can sneak in a kiss or two, he really needs to get some sleep. Those night shifts are brutal.
“Only two more weeks and I go on rotation,” John murmured into my ear as we hugged after his massage was over.
“I’m definitely looking forward to it,” I grinned. “Now, you get some sleep and I’ll see you next week.”
* * *
I took what seeds I felt I could spare and a mesh bag of old potatoes that I had extra and left for town around noon. Most people would have tossed out these shriveled up spuds, with the dark brown skin all wrinkled and the long white eyes poking out. I had let these grow intentionally from what I dug up last fall. I haven’t bought seed potatoes in years, always perpetuating my own. I planted all I had room for in the garden, so the rest could go to the community garden. Now I needed to find Pastor Carolyn.
* * *
Cruising by the community garden first on my four-wheeler, I spotted her with a hoe, hacking away at the soil. Other members of the church were there too, diligently marking rows with strips of cloth.
“Hi, Carolyn,” I said, announcing my presence so I didn’t startle her. She was now our most senior member in the town. We had lost most of the elderly to the flu that rampaged through Moose Creek last winter.
“Allexa, good to see you!” She leaned on the hoe, seeming to be grateful for the break. “What do you think of our garden? Come to help out?” Her usually bouncy gray curls sagged under the heat and sweat. She, too, seemed to sag under the blazing sun and bright blue sky.
“In a manner of speaking, yes I have. I brought you a bag of seed potatoes and some seeds. There’s rutabaga, kohlrabi, radish, collards, and carrots.” I handed the bags to her, and her eyes smiled. Carolyn and I have a history of quiet collaboration from last winter. She knows I will do whatever I can to help, but I have a limit and I don’t want any credit.
“These are all I can spare, and I wanted you to have them as soon as possible. They need time to germinate, and we never seem to have enough of that. There won’t be any second chances with the garden.” Time and Fate have had a way of going against us lately. A worried cloud passed over her face and was gone just as quickly.
“How are you feeling, Pastor? You look … extra tired.” I reverted to her formal title so she would understand my concern. “Maybe it’s time you had a checkup from our new doctor.”
“Fiddlesticks! I’m fine. I am tired though, and hot. Maybe it’s time for me to take a break and let the youngsters work for a while.” She leaned the hoe against a nearby fence where other tools were lined up. It was interesting to me to see how we have stepped back to a time where there was an unspoken trust. Those tools would still be there in the days to come; no one would even consider moving them, except to work in the garden. Theft and crime in our town had come to a halt, leaving our new law enforcement team, Ken and Karen, without much to do. Eric and Lenny were backup deputies, and were even less needed.
Carolyn sat down in the shade with a bottle of water, and I turned my attention to the remaining workers to show them how to maximize the handful of sprouting spuds. We dug four long trenches and watered. Then I selected one of the potatoes, pulled my pocket knife out, and cut it in four pieces, leaving one or two eyes on each piece. I had one of the young girls place them in a trench, cut side down, 18” apart. Once they got the gist of it, I took Carolyn home on my four-wheeler so she wouldn’t have to walk. I did not like the ashen color of her skin.
Since I was right next door, I decided to pay a visit to Bob and Kathy. It had been too long since I’d seen them and I felt like I hadn’t been a very good friend.
“There you are,” I called out to Kathy when I found her hard at work in her raised bed garden.
She looked up from the troweling and gave me a bright smile. “Hey! Good to see you, my friend.” She wiped her hands on her ragged jeans, something she never would have done before, and gave me a hug.
“What are you planting, Kath?” I asked, surveying the eight beds laid out in a spoke design. The hub was multi-tiered and filled with perennial herbs, and the paths were packed with faded bark chip.
“I’m putting in the usual veggies, just a lot more of them. This bed will be all carrots, and that one I’ve already put in the potatoes. Another will have green beans if I can find the seed. There’s the rutabaga, peppers and summer greens,” she said as we walked the circle. “And peas. I’m still debating on the squash; it was a wasted effort last year.”
“Are the tomatoes on the deck in the earth boxes?”
“Yes. Once the power came back on steady, I started some seeds in my hydroponic herb unit. The tomato and pepper plants are a lot smaller than what I normally start with, I’m just glad I have some.”
“That’s the one thing lacking in the community garden right now, tomatoes! I sure hope someone else has tried to grow something on their own.” I paused, and then turned to her. “I’ve missed seeing you and Bob. Maybe the four of us can get together soon?”
“Four? Is John back?” Kathy asked excitedly.
“Yes, just not full time. He’s still working the mine and staying on Eagle Beach, and we see each other as often as our schedules allow. It seems to be working.”
* * *
I was going to do some laundry when I got home, except the power was out again. This was becoming more and more frequent.
June 5
A visit from Joshua Beals was the last thing I expected. The young man is only 21, tall and lanky, with a laid-back attitude toward life and a ready smile. If he were forty years older, I would liken him to a hardworking hippie. I hadn’t ever visited his place, but I knew he and his grandmother loved to garden and I assumed that had sustained them in their solitude.
“Joshua, how nice to see you,” I said, smiling. Neither he nor his grandmother had been seen for the entire winter. “It’s good to know you are still with us.” I gave him another big smile and a hug.
“It was a rough winter, Miss Allexa, but we made it.” Like everyone else, he had lost some weight, and had a haunted look in his dark eyes.
“How’s Martha?” His grandmother preferred to be called by her first name, even by her own grandchild.
“Truthfully, she’s been better,” he replied. “Actually, that’s why I’m here…” I waited for him to continue, since I had no idea what he meant. “I stopped to see the new doctor, and asked him to come out to check her over. Martha refuses to leave the farm. Anyway, he said he would and when I asked him how much, he said he wouldn’t charge us anything at all.”
I instantly knew part of the problem: the Beals would look at that as charity. They were very proud and would never accept Mark’s generosity.
“I told him we would pay,” Joshua said, “though it would have to be in barter, so I offered him a goat.”
“I didn’t know you had goats,” I said, just picturing Mark with a goat and I stifled a snicker.
“Doctor Mark said he didn’t need or want a goat. He said maybe I could trade it to you for something he did want. He said if you accepted the goat, then he would consider having been paid. Will you take Matilda?” Joshua pleaded.
I couldn’t imagine what Mark had in mind, however, if this was the only way they would accept his visit, I knew I must.
“Of course, Joshua, I accept the goat in payment for Doctor Mark. You might have to hold her for me while I can figure something out for her. And you might have to give me a few tips on how to care for her.” He looked so relieved. “What other animals do you have?”
“Well, we still have Bossy. I know that’s a stupid name for a cow. Martha thought it was a good joke. Bossy’s been giving us enough milk to drink and make cheese. Would you like to do some trading?” There was an undeniable eagerness in his voice.
“I would be happy to. What do you need?” I suddenly had visions of a new Moose Creek economy.
“Martha has been too weak to make bread. Do you know how or know someone who does? I miss my sandwiches. And I lost my last chicken to a coyote a few weeks ago. Do you know anyone with chickens?”
“You’ve come to the right place, Joshua. Would you like some iced tea?”
* * *
We sat down at the picnic table and discussed ‘prices’.
“I have eggs and just hatched some chicks. How many chickens do you think you could use, Joshua?”
“Um, I-I don’t know,” he stammered. “I hadn’t thought that far since I didn’t think anyone would be willing to give any up.”
“Would six hens and a rooster do for now?” The relief that flooded his face was magical. “Of course, the chicks are less than a week old, so you can’t take them just yet. I’ll trade you a dozen eggs for a gallon of milk for now, and every week until the new hens start producing. Would that be okay?”
His head bobbed in speechless agreement.
“Now, how would you like a loaf of fresh bread for some of your cheese?”
“You make bread too?” he asked in wonder.
“Every few days. My family loves bread.” I laughed. “I do have one small request, Joshua. I need you to keep Matilda. I agree that she’s now mine, except I really don’t have the space or the time to take care of a goat. Will you do that?”
I had seen the sorrow in his eyes when he talked about giving up his goat, which I suspected was more of a pet, and I knew he would do it to get his aging grandmother the help she needed.
He swallowed hard. Emotions didn’t come easy to this young man. He nodded compliance once more.
“Great! That sure helps me out, Joshua, thank you.” I stood and held out my hand to seal the deal.
It’s an extra bonus that his farm is less than a mile away. I sent him home with a dozen eggs, a loaf of fresh bread, and a promise from him of returning in a day or two with a gallon of milk and a pound of cheese. He took the “credit” reluctantly. He’s a good young man with very firm morals.
I felt buoyed for the first time weeks. We were establishing something meaningful for the community now.
* * *
All this encouraging news was darkened by tonight’s newscast and the report of more quakes on the West Coast, including three in Yellowstone.
CHAPTER 12
June 6
When I was weeding the herb bed, I plucked a handful of chive flowers. Those sweet smelling purple flowers have quite the zing to them. Most people don’t realize they’re edible fresh or dried and make a charming garnish.
Emilee came skipping across the road as I finished weeding. Even though traffic is non-existent now, she still stopped and looked both ways before starting across. She makes me smile and watching her lifted my spirits.
“What are you doing, Nahna?” She stuck her nose down into the chive flowers. “Oh, they smell pretty!”
“Yes, they do. They are also tasty.” Emi’s eyes brightened. Unlike her cousin Jacob, Emi is willing to try almost any new food. I picked one up and held it out to her. “Do you want to try one?” When she reached for it I added, “Be careful, they have a strong peppery taste.”
She popped it in her mouth and started to chew. The expression that flooded her scrunched up face was priceless and I had to laugh.
“It’s okay if you want to spit it out,” I told her. She didn’t. She grimaced and swallowed it.
“I don’t think I want another one, Nahna. The taste isn’t bad, but there’s so much of it, it makes my mouth burn.” She made another face that got me laughing again.
“There’s some sweet tea in the refrigerator, Emi. Why don’t you get us each a glass?”
She bounded away quickly into the house. I dreaded the thought of Emilee’s mother asking Eric to bring her back to Florida.
Neither of the kids attends school every day now, and Wednesday was Emilee’s day off. The only children who went every day are the ones who lived right in town and could walk the few blocks. Gas was just too limited to take one child to school and the buses used too much diesel.
Just as Emilee brought us two glasses of tea, I saw Eric heading our way. “Emi, you might want to get another glass for your dad,” I suggested.
Eric sat down at the picnic table and propped his chin in his hands, elbows on the surface, a position I’ve come to recognize. “Hi, Mom.”
“What’s on your mind, son?” I smiled and he grinned.
“I want to ask you about using your four-wheeler and the wagon a couple of times each week. I’ve been talking to a few of the other parents, and we’d like to get a kind of carpool going for getting the kids to school as cheaply as possible. I know I could fit three kids in that garden cart you use, the heavy duty one that attaches to the ATV. I could pick up the other two kids on my way in, and then one of the other parents would bring everyone home.”
“Kids in the garden cart isn’t exactly the safest means of transportation, Eric,” I cautioned. “You need to come up with something better.” Although the ATV would be the most cost efficient.
JOURNAL ENTRY: June 7
The last of the chicks hatched out this morning. After candling the four remaining eggs with a strong flashlight, I could see the shells were empty. We set forty eggs and thirty-six hatchings is a very good turnout.
With Eric’s method of guessing the sex, it appears we have twenty-four hens and twelve roosters. If Jason takes six hens plus a rooster, and Joshua takes the same, I can give the community twelve hens and a rooster. That leaves me with nine to butcher.
I washed out the incubator and sterilized it with a spritz of bleach, and set it in the sun to dry. Tomorrow I start collecting eggs again.
* * *
“Good morning, Miss Allexa,” Joshua said, smiling at me. “I’ve brought you two gallons of milk and a pound of cheese, just like I p
romised.”
“Thank you, Joshua, but that should be only one gallon of milk,” I reminded him.
“Well, the extra gallon is for the kids. I know Jason’s little boy will want some too, once he tastes it.” Joshua beamed. “It’s real good milk.”
“I’m sure it is. Have you tried making butter yet?” I asked, knowing my supply was getting low.
“No.” He looked down at the ground. “I don’t know how,” he confessed.
“Wait right here.”
When I returned, I handed him a book on making dairy products. “I’ve collected these ‘how-to’ books for years, thinking that someday someone might need the knowledge. I think that time is now.”
“Gosh, thanks, Miss Allexa!” he said, already getting lost in the pages. I left him thumbing through the book while I put the milk and cheese away. I broke off a small bit of cheese and tasted it. It was a little bland, but it was indeed cheese and creamy rich.
“Do you have enough salt to make your cheeses?” I asked.
“Oh, we haven’t had salt in months so I’ve learned to make things without it,” he said, still scanning the pages of the dairy book.
“Wait right there a moment.”
I retrieved two one-pound boxes of salt from the storage shed and placed them on the wooden table in front of him. His look shifted from surprise to delight and finally to disappointed resignation, all in a matter of a few seconds.
“Joshua,” I said sternly, “you’re going to accept this salt as a gift from me. And don’t argue with me! Our bodies need salt, and don’t function properly without it. In fact, this could be a contributing factor to Martha not feeling well.”
The Journal: Ash Fall Page 9