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.