Memorial Day

Today was Memorial Day. And we didn’t complete our workday until after 6:00 this evening. Today was the first day I sweat. Really sweat, all day long. Sure shoveling for hours in the greenhouse, even on a fifty-degree day, was no small chore. There have been difficult moments. And, there have been more difficult days that today, overall. But today was simply a hot day. And we were out in the field all day along.

Even after refilling my water bottle four times and drinking over sixty-four ounce of water and an Emergen-C, my head is currently rumbling into a headache. One of dehydration. (Not that the glass of Reisling I downed at 6:05 helped whatsoever.)

Even after drinking all that water, I didn’t need one bathroom break all afternoon. But I took one at 5:00pm anyway, just so I could sit down. Seriously.

I have to admit that was hopeful that Farmer Thomas’s son soccer team would excel into the final bracket of the Memorial Day Weekend Tournament and that yes, indeed they would be playing for the championship today…. Which would mean Thomas would still be in Washington DC. No such luck.

And I’ll be honest, even if he weren’t here, Chris and I still knew eggplants needed to be planted today, and we knew in which field and which rows and could have figured out which order. We are aware of some other farm chores and things that have been left undone: we could finally attach the ground cover between the green houses where the artichokes and lemongrass are now growing. We could wash out potato bins and shim-up the new door that sticks in the 144’ greenhouse. We could drive into town and fill up the propane tanks so that we could continue flaming weeding the garlic.

Then we’d have the afternoon off! You know around 2:00 or 3:00 or so. I’d read in the shade of the big tree in their front yard. Maybe make some homemade bread or head into Greenwich to get a dip of ice-cream from The Ice Cream Man. It’s Memorial Day. Everyone else is off work, right?

Turns out we planted eggplant until noon. After lunch Mike, the additional part-time farmhand that’s been working here for five years, arrived. The three of us planted tomatoes until 3:00. Then headed out to trellis the pea beds, which took until 5:00pm. I was more than happy that two strong, capable men were able to put in the stakes and heave the heavy post-pounder. Chris and I would have been out there until 7:00pm and probably in need of some marriage counseling if it would have just been the two of us. Perhaps Thomas knew this.

Mike, Chris and I found our groove. I enjoyed weaving the trellis and fitting it taught in the stakes. Of course, the pea plants are still my favorite. I think they are so feminine and delicately gorgeous. I was happy to help them. They want to climb and grow and twist those tiny little arms around something strong enough to help pull them up. Lovely girls, those Sweet Ann Peas.

The last hour of the day, I stood and watched the men work. Well, let me explain: they were trying to air up a tubeless tire that was unseated from the rim on the attachment that is used to lay plastic on flat rows. In regards to this: I’ve got nothing. I did manage to kill two yellow jackets with some spray that Thomas had brought out. They had built a nest in the attachment and he had killed most of them. I chased two more around the farm, until about 5:30 when the men got things figured out.

Then we all headed out into the field to see if the half-hour effort had been worth it. This particular piece of equipment hadn’t been used since last season. Two perfect rows later the day was complete. And I had only reapplied sunscreen five times. I was sure my arms would look like leather by nightfall.

No invite over for dinner. No burgers on the grill or, “Hey come over for margaritas after you shower,” just the end of a really long, hot day. Which was nice enough, I guess. I just had high hopes. How will I ever make it to August… ? I think I need to invest in an insulated thermos.