0076

Warm and breezy, a gorgeous autumn-like day, so I take to the strawberry patch to do some weeding, down on all fours. This is a very slow task, and I let my thoughts drift where they will.

I remember the John-Denver-like character we met in Kentucky a few years ago, and his story of turning from a career as an investment broker to become a plain Mennonite farmer. As neither he nor his family had been raised to the plain life, his deliberate aim was to retain a modicum of comfort via creative but humble means. With this in mind, he tapped into a natural spring on the opposite side of the holler, piped the water down to the bottom, where a ram pump pushed a percentage of it up to a tank uphill from his house, spilling the excess into the creek at the bottom. From the tank, he ran more pipes back down to his house, thus achieving water pressure in his house without running an electric pump. Then he ran a pipe through his wood-burning stove, and stored this hot water in an insulated tank in his attic. So, without burning gas or oil or electricity, he had hot & cold running water. I was quite impressed, both with the ingenuity of his system and with the reasonable principle from which he proceeded.

I can still picture him, sandy hair, wire-rim glasses, as he showed us the stove with the built-in water plenum. He had learned to be careful to temper the hot water with cold, laughing as he exclaimed, "Hot? Lemme tell you, son, that water'll blister yer hide!". He even sounded like Johnny Denver.

Newly inspired, I take a piece of scratch paper and start mapping out a fairly simple way to run some pipes to heat water with my wood stove in the winter, and with an attic (solar) tank in the summer.

Back to the garden. I pick green beans, chard, broccoli, and sweet corn, most of which I freeze. I plant a few apple seeds in the back yard and in the meadow across the driveway.

0075

Have been busy picking green beans, sweet corn, and other fresh veggies, sharing with neighbors, and freezing for winter. Also working on the house plumbing when I can fit that in. There are so many holes in the walls and ceilings that I rarely have to break more sheetrock to gain access.

Today it's cloudy and threatening more rain, so I'm making good progress. I finish roughing in the cold water lines (all soldered copper) and connect to my rigged-up pressure tank downstairs. I set up the large garbage can to draw water from, and turn the pump on, pressurizing the whole system. All the soldered joints appear sound -- except the least accessible one: an elbow or coupling near the floor leading to the bathroom sink. Try to re-solder, but that doesn't work, and I don't have enough fittings on hand to do it over. Aaaargghhh!

So I start to question myself. Why am I even putting plumbing in? Maybe I should just be humble and live plainly like the Amish, do it all the simple way. Wasn't that the ideal to begin with? Well, I'm not going to burn gas driving into town for a couple little plumbing fittings, so this project will have to be postponed (and maybe never resumed?)

The rain has stopped, so I go outside, and dig a nice mess of new potatoes for supper.

0074

The fog lifts mid-morning for a warm sunny day. I gather cucumbers, squash, and apples, and drive to the 4-Corners store. But now Tracy says he guesses he's not ready to sell vegetables. So I come back home, load the folding table and a few other things, and drive to the Duluth farmers' market once more. Apples sell well, other stuff so-so. I guess marketing this stuff won't be quite as easy as I may have supposed.

Back to Superior, distribute the remaining veggies free to Lenore, her neighbors, and Keith & Dave. Supper with Lenore, exchange books at the library, then back home after dark.

0073

Rained hard Sunday night, and kept it up most of the day yesterday and through the night again. I worked indoors, routing more electrical wiring.

Finally it stops raining this afternoon, the sun showing his face. I pick some green beans, and dig potatoes and carrots for sale at the corner convenience store tomorrow, and take some chard and broccoli for my own table.

Now it's foggy and misty again. Such a wet year!

0072

Have enjoyed sweet corn at its peak the past couple days. In addition to garden work, I've started to route new upstairs wiring through the bathroom floor while that's ripped up.

Awake this morning while it was still dark; Morning Prayer at dawn. Even though the sky is overcast, I ride the bicycle 18 miles to town. No rain, and it's a pleasant ride. I even have time to partially mow Lenore's lawn before attending 9:30 Mass with her at Cathedral parish.

Brenda, another new friend of Lenore's, joins us for breakfast. We have a leisurely visit, I finish the lawn, then Lenore feeds me lunch. I throw the bike into the back of the Tercel and drive back home, so now I have both vehicles here.

0071

I pull some more onions and do other garden chores, but it's threatening rain again. After some indecision (I'm certainly not the decisive executive type), I drive to town, buy some plumbing and electrical supplies, and buy the '82 Toyota. I leave the Tercel at Lenore's house, and drive the truck back home, without plates.

0070

Spent yesterday in town with Jack and Lenore, and, among other things, I looked at that '82 Toyota pickup, and am pondering whether or not to buy it. It won't get the same gas mileage as the Tercel, and that's an important consideration. But I've been hauling all kinds of stuff with the Tercel as if it were a truck, and I think its days are numbered. And if I need a truck to do what I'm doing, better a Toyota or Datsun than a big Chevy or Dodge.

Today is another chilly, dreary day, raining off & on all day. I bring some veggies to the corner store, they meet Tracy's approval, and he buys them.

The tomatoes are very thick and verdant, but are way behind schedule in producing ripe fruit. Oats growing nicely, but my methods for hand harvesting are very inefficient. Potatoes now ready to be dug en masse, sweet corn is almost ready to pick, green beans continue to produce well, several little watermelons getting big, and lots of pie pumpkins, including a few that appear to be almost ripe. Apples are ripening nicely, I should pull the onions and beets soon, and carrots any time... So the garden is entering the heavy harvest stage, with some successes and some disappointments.

0069

Cool & windy, and I have to bike hard against the wind to make it to Mass on time. Stop at the new convenience store on the way home to call Lenore. She tells me that our friend Jack from Milwaukee will be in town on Tuesday. Also call about a used bathroom vanity and an '82 Toyota pickup advertised for sale; maybe look at these items if I go to town to meet Jack. Before leaving, I ask Tracy, the store owner, about selling vegetables through the store. He's willing to give it a try.

Shortly after arriving back home, it starts raining heavily. Good timing. So I spend the day reading and relaxing, and retire early.

0068

The past few days comprise a life chapter, an event around which I will relate lesser happenings. Dad's funeral drew a vast throng of old friends, neighbors and relatives, including many joyful reunions between folks who hadn't seen each other in years. Heard and retold the story of Dad's sudden collapse just as he was about to go pick tomatoes. (At 91, Dad was still a farmer; his tomatoes have been bearing for several weeks already.) Except for a couple teary moments in front of his casket, I couldn't feel sad. Dad is still my main hero, and I'm as proud of the way he died as of the way he lived.

Arrived back home last night around dusk.

---

Dad appears to have carried out my little prayer request: a morning tour of the garden reveals no noticeable deer damage to corn, tomatoes, etc., except for maybe a few missing cucumber leaves. Looks like we got some weather here during the week, signs of plants tousled by wind & rain, but no damage that I can see, and today is cool, dry, and sunny.

I weed some here & there, and pick a wide variety of veggies for my table. Run more water through the test pump and pressure tank, and take another rainwater sit-down bath, back to my home routine.

0067

Cool, but sunny & dry as I bike to church and back home. Wayne, Pat and grandkids are enjoying the moderate weather out on their deck, the radio music wafting all the way up to my place. After lunch, I go out to pick raspberries, since I didn't do so before Mass. I'm almost done when I hear someone knocking on my back door. I hadn't heard a car drive up. I look up; it's a squad car. I holler from the garden, and walk to the house.

The officer greets me: "Mr. DePyper?"

"Yes."

"Your wife wants you to call her right away."

"Oh, geez, now what?"

"There's no message, except to call her... Do you need a ride somewhere?"

"No, that's OK. I guess I can call from the neighbor's phone. I know they're home."

The patrol car backs down the driveway and on his way, while I follow on foot, then cross the road. The radio has been turned off, and everyone is looking in my direction as I approach. I call out, "Say, Pat, could I please use your phone for a minute?"

"Why, sure, Jerry. Come on into the house."

Several faces still looking intently at me as I walk up the steps. Justin blurts out, "You weren't coming to complain about the loud music?"

"Is that why you're all staring at me?" I laugh as I see how it must have looked to them. "No, I didn't call the cops on you! But I do need to make a phone call."

Justin breathes a sigh of relief, and I'm still chuckling as Pat leads me inside, hands me the phone, then goes back outside. "Talk as long as you want," she calls back.

"Thanks." I dial Lenore's number, and wait for her to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's me. What's up?"

"Oh, your sister Phyllis just called me, because she didn't know how to get ahold of you. So I called the police; I know they do that sort of thing."

"Well, yes, you're right, and here I am. Now, what's up?"

A pause. "Honey -- your father passed away suddenly this morning."


"Oh."


Nothing much to say after that. No, it's better that I call Mom myself. Yes, I have a calling card with which to make the call. Yes, I'm pretty sure the Toyota will make the trip. And, can you be ready to leave right away in the morning? Then I say good-bye, hang up and go back outside.

Derek and Justin are throwing the football back and forth. I'm walking back toward the road when I hear Derek shout, and turn my head just in time to catch his pass to me. As I do so, Justin takes off and breaks to his left. I give him the perfect lead, and he catches it in stride. Now Derek breaks, and Justin rifles it to him. Justin asks what the phone call was about. I catch Derek's pass, throw it back and say, "My Dad just died."

"Oh."

I ride my bike to the public phone in the park and call Mom. Then back home, and pack a few things for the trip to Mankato.

---

It's a Catholic thing. I'm loathe to leave my garden untended for several days while I'm away. So, I call upon the most logical person for help - my Dad. This is where the Communion of Saints really comes in handy. Probably Dad's first prayer request:

"You know, Dad, how much I was looking forward to showing you my little farm. Well, here it is. Not much, I'll grant, but it's all I've got. And I need you to watch over it for a few days while I go to your funeral. Keep those pesky deer from eating all the sweet corn while I'm gone, OK? And -- thanks, Dad."

0066

Pick another pint or so of raspberries, and some green beans, then another little rainstorm, so I eat lunch and rest a bit.

Take the new one-pint toilet out of its box. I realize I need to ask a couple more questions about installing this before I start. The contrast strikes me again: this is state of the art stuff here. Like the Amish, I appreciate good technology, but reserve the right to reject the bulk that isn't so good.

Along with other veggies, I pick a few first ears of sweet corn for supper. Tastes yummy, but will be even better in just a few more days.

Another bath in the real tub. I could get used to this.

0065

After some early morning garden work, and experimenting some more with the rigged up pump, I start mowing the grass. First the grassy driveway, then the area behind the sheds, when it starts to rain, forcing me to quit (twist my arm, Lord, to make me stop mowing!), and come back inside around 3:30. Early supper, then struggle with the bathtub drain, and actually get it all connected this time with no leaks.

A break in the rain lets me go pick a few peas, which I have with some new potatoes for a late meal. Then carry some sun-warmed rain water up to the tub, and take a real sit-down bath. And at a flip of the lever, the water runs out and down to the drain field. With no leaks. More progress!

More thunder and rain after dark. Is it just me, or is this an especially rainy summer?

0064

Time to wear a new hat; today I'm a retailer.

I pick raspberries, potatoes, beets, carrots (from thinnings) and green beans. Clean these up a bit, pack them along with the small folding table & chair, and drive to the afternoon market in Duluth. Deb welcomes me warmly, and introduces me to the market format. A pleasant afternoon of comradery with the other growers and the fluctuating stream of customers. I sell everything except six beets and most of the potatoes. Not bad for a rookie.

A stop at Lenore's, give her the beets and some of the spuds, mow her lawn, and have supper with her, driving home after dark.

0063

A cool morning, heavy dew, as I pick 1½ quarts of raspberries and pollinate two more pie pumpkin blossoms. Watermelons are swelling nicely.

After a quick potato-and-egg lunch, I tear into the used well pump purchased for $10 over a week ago. It's seized solid with rust and non-use, but I manage to get it freed up. Rig it up with a bucket in the basement, and run a bunch of water through to clear out the rust & crud. I'm satisfied with this small progress -- now I should be able to install plumbing and pressure test the water lines. With luck, the rust may eventually clear up, and I may even be able to use this to pump from a well and provide house water pressure. And all from a castoff piece of salvage. I do take pride in reclaiming old stuff; this whole farmstead is another example of that.

Use a little insulation and good ol' duct tape to mend the $20 freezer, and start it up. Blanch 4 double bags of green beans, and put them in to freeze, plus this morning's raspberries, a big double bag of apple slices from windfalls, and a handful of blanched broccoli.

A soft rain has been falling all evening.

0062

Pick more beans after church, then a quiet day, resting and reading.

The other day, Pat mentioned that she thought Delia used to have asparagus growing next to the house, on the east side. In the cool of the evening, I go out to stretch my legs, and look. For several years, Wayne has used his riding mower to keep the lawn from getting too wild. But he never mowed up close to the house, so it's now a mass of tall grass, taller than me, unruly bushes, and other stuff which sweep against the windows. I really need to get in there sometime and clean things up. Meanwhile, I can't remember seeing any asparagus...

I nose around a bit, brushing the tall plants aside so I can see down to the ground. Nothing here. Maybe over closer to the corner. No, nothing here, either. Wait a minute - what's this stuff I'm brushing back out of my face? Well, I'll be darned - it's an asparagus fern! And there's another - and another, and another! From their size, they look pretty healthy, too. So much for my powers of observation. I'll have to remember this little gift patch next spring.