0061

Hot & muggy. Very hot & muggy. I poke around with various garden chores. Plant a few beets for possible wintering, as seed plants next year. I see my first sunflower blossom, and some ears of corn nearly ripe enough to pick. Tried cooking some dehydrated beans along with fresh veggies - not very impressed with their texture or taste, but they're food, and would do in a pinch.

After lunch, I rest a bit, then start to assemble the tub and sink drains. A thunderstorm breaks out while I'm doing that, cooling things off. The rain comes softly now. Good.

0060

No storm, still humid and hot. I wake early, pick a quart of raspberries, and a bushel of beans. Drive to town, give Lenore the beans and raspberries, plus some potatoes, onions, lettuce and carrots.

My errands today include picking up the double tee at Hardware hank, and calling Deb, the manager of the farmers' market over in Duluth. I may as well start getting a little income from the garden's bountiful output.

Back to Lenore's place for the feast, then back home after dark.

0059

A few watermelons are beginning to swell. 2nd pea patch is germinating. A couple more Yukons from Lenore's peelings are coming up, but the others seems to be dead, so I plant some more peas in that spot. The onions pulled a couple days ago seem OK, so I hang them up in the garage.

I dig a few new potatoes, and consider, with satisfaction, how this is really working out OK. Some setbacks, but the whole industrial world could implode, and I would survive quite nicely, wouldn't I? Then I look at the potato fork in my hands, a gift from my Dad. This implement was made in a factory. Would it work to dig potatoes with a stick? And how would I fashion the stick, with no ax or chisel? OK, so I cannot follow my idea to the extreme. The Amish principle again comes to mind: draw a line, and don't cross it. Thus far, and no farther.

I dine sumptuously as usual on veggies and berries, but am running low on eggs and bread. Maybe a trip into town tomorrow. It's hot and muggy; thunderstorms predicted for tonight.

0058

The storm passed in the night, and the new day dawns sunny & bright, and less humid. The second planting of corn is flattened, but the 1st & 3rd plantings are mostly OK. The oats are down, but should recover. I pick over a half bushel each of green beans and windfall apples. Keep a handful, and give the rest to the neighbors. Patch the roof, using fiberglass screening as a membrane to make it last longer.

0057

After the morning bike ride to church, I pick lots of veggies for my lunch, and listen to the ball game as I scrub, cook, and eat. Several broadcast interruptions warn of severe weather coming. After Vespers, the storm looks imminent, so I gather some rhubarb to cook up with a few windfall apples while it rains.

The wind picks up a little before 7:00, and I step out the back door to watch. I guess I inherited this habit from my Mom. While others would scurry for shelter, Mom would go outside, and me with her, to look at the show. And what a show! I stand in drop-jaw awe at the tremendous power - the clouds roiling above like a big pot of oatmeal, the trees swaying like grass. I can't do anything but stand transfixed, take it in, and know how small I am.

I know this means much work for me, and loss (sigh). The sweet corn is probably demolished, most of the apples will be on the ground, and this may have re-opened that hole in the roof near the chimney. Will have to assess further damage tomorrow. Right now, I can't feel anything but excitement and wonder.

The rain starts to come harder now, while the winds diminish. The worst is over, and the tornado threat appears to be past. I go back indoors, my clothing a little wet, my hair tousled, my heart calm. It's getting dark, and the power is out, so I can't cook my fruit sauce.

0056

After an early lunch, I start installing the drains for the bathroom - looking forward to taking a real, sit-down bath soon. But the crucial, newly purchased double tee fitting is cracked, and I remember this was the last one in stock, so I can't do anything - Aaaaargh!

I take a look at the shopper ads, and decide to bike 3/4 mile to check out a neighbor's garage sale. I find several useful items, including a stainless steel kitchen sink. Use his phone to order another double tee. I'll come back with my car for the big items.

Check out another ad within biking distance. Here's a young man, used to be a preacher, then a teacher; now he's building a farmstead from scratch with, as much as possible, used lumber and other materials. We talk for over an hour about sustainable farming, non-consumerism, and he tells me about his goat, chickens, and ideas. A breath of inspiration.

0055

A violent wind during the night flattened much of the sweet corn, so I spend some time this morning propping the worst areas up. I notice that the perimeter plants didn't fall, so maybe my thick planting technique leaves the inner plants with a structurally weaker root system. I'm just guessing; this is another example of learning on the job, and learning by trial and error.

Speaking of which, I need to teach myself how to fell a tree, don't I? There's no time like the present, and those two maple trees beckon...

I take my 'new' ax to the site and scope the situation. This first tree, while mostly upright and balanced, seems to maybe lean a bit to the south. If I can get it to fall just a bit to the west of south, it should miss that big fir tree, and also miss the garden. I've seen this done. I guess I start by making a big wedge cut on the side where I want the tree to fall, in this case in a south-southwesterly direction.

Right-handed, I stand west of the tree, about an ax handle away from its center. If I were a baseball batter, home plate would be on the ground, butting up against the trunk. I take a few swings, just as if I were swinging at a low pitch. I swing harder, and the chips fly. But sometimes my clumsy swing doesn't bite at all. I break a sweat, and am soon winded. Whew! This is harder than I thought!

OK, Jerry, take a break, and think about this. As with most menial jobs, this one is going to require a good, steady pace. Try not swinging so hard. You're not trying to hit a home run; just put the ball into play.

I go back at it, letting the weight of the ax head do most of the work. My job is to control the angle, so that the head will bite, first down and then up, and cut one good chip at a time. After awhile, I'm hitting a rhythm. Swing. Choke up with my right hand to make the backswing easier. Then, sliding the right hand back down, another swing. Control, not power. Like so. The chips are flying just as nicely now, and I can keep up the pace. Soon, I have my wedge-shaped cut.

After another breather, I stand on the other side. Same thing, only this back side cut should be a couple inches higher. Swing, backswing, swing. Occasionally stop and check that my alignment is in the right direction.

I hear a light crack and think I see a barely perceptible leaning. Take a few more cuts. Another crack!, then another, and now the tree is definitely leaning in the direction of the first wedge cut. I stand back, watching. No more movement. So I take a few more swings. With a couple louder cracks, the tree begins to fall. I quickly stand back, and watch it slowly gather speed, and then break and fall with a heavy crash. I did it! Just like on "Bonanza" (only their trees were a bit larger).

I use the ax and bow saw to remove the smaller limbs. Next I'll have to learn the art of sawing into lengths and chopping into firewood chunks.

0054

My low-flush toilet arrived yesterday; will have to work on installing that when I can.

After my early morning pumpkin blossom / wild raspberry routine, I decide to mow my lawn again. Over 4 hours in 90-degree heat, I break a real nice sweat. Then pick more beans and peas for my table.

Ironically, the sweltering heat has me thinking of getting prepared for the cold weather, while I have the chance. I have my eyes on the two maple trees at the edge of the east woods, which shade the strawberries from the forenoon sun. So, I get that ax head that the boys found, sharpen it as best I can, and then rummage in the shed for an orphan handle. Find one the right size, but with a broken end. So I make myself comfortable with chisel, knife, and file, and shape the end to accommodate the ax head. Pound the head on, wedge it in place with some roofing nails, and, voilá! Take a few swings; it seems balanced. Getting too late to start tonight, so I call it a day.

0053

Overcast, but no rain. Hand pollinate two nice female pie pumpkin blossoms. Go through the wild raspberry patches on my normal route, getting drenched by heavy dew. Pick peas and green beans. The peas are waning, but I get 7 - 8 quarts of beans -- and that's just the beginning. Give some to the neighbor, save a bunch for supper.

Work some more on the plumbing. Quit early, and bring the dried beans in from the car, storing them in a jar. They look good; hope I've done this right, and they keep OK.

0052

A cool, cloudy morning as I bicycle to 8:30 Mass, using the refreshing shortcut through the park both ways. Back home, pick a variety of veggies to bake w/ chicken, and put a rack of beans out in the car, under the hatchback, to dehydrate.

I hear increasing buzz about Y2K, just a few months away, and I realize that I've inadvertently put myself in a quite enviable position here. I have all the means of survival, with or without the power grid or government props or industrial dependence. You could say I'm feeling pretty smug right about now.

A restful afternoon: with a soft rain falling, I write a long letter to my sister.

0051

The feast continues. I pick another batch of peas, a couple small heads of broccoli, and about 2 quarts of green beans, sooner than I had anticipated for the beans. I take some dry peas (missed picking when first ripe), and plant them for a second pea patch. I process most of the pickings for my winter larder, and still enjoy a bountiful supper.

I get the mail, which include letters from both Jean and Phyllis. Mom & Dad will be coming with Phyllis & Ray for the Labor Day weekend. My first guests! I'll especially enjoy showing my place to Dad, that old farmer. He can probably tell me all about those horse-drawn implements out on the knoll. Maybe these folks will even want to spend their nights here, so I'd better get to work on that plumbing soon.

0050

Another nice sunny day. I take advantage by washing laundry, then expanding the strawberry patch. I spade between the circles so that the strawberry plants can run and fill in the entire area. I also use cardboard as a mulch along one side to suppress the grass w/o digging.

I pick another mess of peas. I see little green beans forming - that harvest should start in a couple weeks. The feast has begun.

I love analogies and parables. As my garden bears fruit, it seems to be an excellent metaphor for civilization. It has taken hard work, and most of that work has involved acts of repression and even violence: digging up and uprooting living plants, and stopping them from growing back again. Keeping even the cultivated plants in order and in check. Someone unfamiliar with gardening might call me a control freak. Likewise, many voices today call for a liberal and uninhibited approach to life, scorning traditional mores as repressive. But, what is unfettered nature, really? I have only to look where I did not till and hoe. Pretty much choked with weeds, and not bearing much fruit.

Such are my thoughts as I shuck my peas for supper.

0049

The rain slowed and finally stopped this morning, so I pick some veggies - carrots & beets that needed thinning anyway, a couple onions, lettuce, and some windfall apples, and make a trip into town. Purchase plumbing fittings, including ordering a low-flush toilet for the composting system. Food and other supplies, stop at Lenore's, give her the fresh produce, mow her grass, make plans to build better steps and landing for her front door. A big meal at her table, of course. Back home late.

0048

Raining steadily as I rise, and it looks like an all-day storm, so after breakfast, I put together a nice, big batch of bread, and set it to rise. During a brief lull in the rain, I pick peas from the south patch, and some lettuce. Back in the house, shucking the peas with the radio on. Hear an appeal for sandbaggers over in Floodwood. Sounds serious. Should I drive 60-70 miles in the rain to see if I can help? Hurry to get the second rising done, and the bread baked, and finish processing the peas while that's going.

Now that I'm caught up, it's starting to sound like less of an emergency than an inconvenience to motorists. I'll find work to do around the house.

Another brief break in the storm this afternoon. Take the opportunity to go get the mail, and check on things in the wet and verdant garden. Mother Nature is certainly busy -- asparagus seedlings finally emerging, and the first pumpkin blossom (a lone female).

0047

A nice bike ride to church, stopping in the park again to view the waterfall. By the time I get back home, it's getting sultry outdoors, but fairly cool and comfortable in the house. So, I take life easy, write a couple letters, to Bob & Millie, and Phyllis. Tour the garden to stretch my legs, and I notice the first Yukon Gold potato emerging from Lenore's peelings. I still get a charge out of things like that.

The quiet of the day is assaulted at dusk: The Lord Himself provides a fireworks display with a dramatic thunderstorm.

0046

First harvest item this morning - a nice bucket of peas. Slow work, shelling them out, but the joy of anticipation makes it an easy chore. The net yield is over a quart of shelled peas, which I cook up, together with leftover chicken and potatoes, for my noon meal. I'll eat a portion, and freeze the rest, the beginning of my winter larder.

The first forkful takes me back to my family's garden when I was growing up. Store-bought peas are insipid compared with peas right out of the garden - so tender and sweet, they practically melt in your mouth. You know, that helping of peas went down so easily, I think I'll have another small portion. Man, is that ever good! O, yes, I've got chicken and spuds here, too - better remember to eat a balanced meal. Well, maybe just another spoonful. It's not just the taste, is it? It's kinda like Gatorade, filling a deep-down body hunger. These things have got to be just bursting with vitamins and antioxidants and other stuff my system wants.

Let's see now, how much do I have left in the pot for the freezer? Huh! Imagine that - just half a cup or so. O, what the heck, I might as well eat those now, too. The winter larder can wait a few more days.