Finishing With a Flair

I ended the day with quite a flair--a flare, that is. No. Many flares. So many that I called the fire department.

I was feeling just a trifle sorry for myself that all the men in my life were so decidedly unavailable when I needed them to help me get the garden ready at the Trail West place. I really need to get those 100 strawberry plants and those 75 asparagus plants, and the dozen or so rhubarb roots out of my refrigerator and into the ground, to say nothing of the 40 or so cane fruits that will arrive soon. I have been waiting my turn for several weeks. Corn planting and kiln firing have taken precedence.

The most daunting preparation challenge was a healthy stand of dandelions in the former/future garden spot. Having Paul come over with his tractor and tiller didn't seem like a great way to deal with them, given the fact that new plants start easily from root cuttings. So I gritted my teeth and followed Grant's directions and gathered the backpack sprayer and chemical and measuring cup and went to the Trail West place to spray glyphosate on the dandelions. (I would have had to grit my teeth even harder if it had been manufactured by that M--company that makes a glyphosate product that starts with R.) Also, it was nice and warm today--just right for the dandelion leaf pores to be wide open for drinking in a good dose of poison.

I remembered before I left that there was a small brush pile in the garden, and so I took along some newspapers and a lighter. It seemed like a good day to burn and get it gone, since there wasn't much wind. It's to be much windier the next few days.

I also thought of taking a garden hose to give myself some insurance, but Grant said there was one there. He did remind me that the pump was turned off and I would need to turn it back on at the utility box if I needed water--temporarily though since there was a leak near the pressure tank in the old well house.

The mowing was done regularly last summer around the little brush pile, and quite a bit of green growth had begun to come through the bit of dead grass that remained. I looked around and decided that there wasn't anywhere for a fire to go, and not enough fuel for it to burn if it wanted to go anywhere, so I confidently lit a few newspapers and watched the flames catch on the twigs. But at the same time the fire also burned back from the pile in all directions. Things feel apart very fast after that.

I couldn't believe how that fire traveled. At no time was it burning high except when it got to the dead tomato vines remaining from Brandon's garden, and to the dead asparagus fronds. Then it went back to creeping. The wind direction carried it away from the buildings, but very quickly I saw that it would end up in the Red Cedar tree row if no one intervened. That scared me. Those trees can burn like a torch, and the row surrounds two sides of the property--the 476 feet along the west edge of the property, and it wraps 200 or so feet around around the north edge. I didn't want to think about the loss of that winter wind protection and the care it had taken to get those trees started when we first moved there in 1984.

I turned on the water, and small fountains geysered along the length of the hose, leaving no water to come out the end of the hose. I called Joel and Grant, neither of whom were close by--although they both often work within two and a half miles from there. I moved the minivan out of danger and reluctantly called 911. Then I started stomping out the fire at the leading edge where it was closest to the trees. My Crocs were hardly ideal fire stomping equipment, but I was surprised with how well it worked. Eventually I got most of it stomped out, and I wondered if I should call off the fire trucks. Then Shane arrived, just before the fire department. He grabbed a stick and used it to help scrape and beat out the fire in several remaining hot spots. Joel had the presence of mind to call him, and he came over from Joseph's shop where he had been working. I figured he was on a distant job site somewhere, which is why I didn't call him myself.

Three trucks came from Pleasantview, since the Partridge crew was already out on another call. I knew all the guys in the crew--Calvin, James, Brian, and Marvin. They did their jobs in short order, hosing down some smoking spots, without chiding me for my numerous errors in judgment. (Hiromi and Grant took care of that department after they got home. "Try the hose before you start the fire." Yes. Yes.) Joel arrived then also, having driven out from town where he was working--about 30 minutes away. Six men all rushing to my aid. This was quite a turn of events.

I thought it would be nice if all the scorching going on would at least have taken care of my dandelion problem, but I decided it wasn't likely to have worked that way. After everyone left again, I set about mixing up the deadly potion for the dandelions, but things did not go well. I couldn't get the lid off the sprayer tank. I took it for a sign that I wasn't supposed to be doing the spraying, so I trundled over to Mom's house instead. Dad has been gone to PA this week, to ministers' meetings, and I've been wanting to stop in.

I found her dressed to go outdoors. "How did you know I was home?" she asked.

"I didn't, but you're usually home, unless Dad takes you somewhere," I answered.

"I've been staying at Marvin and Lois' and I just came home for a while today while Lois went to the Relief Sale. She's coming pretty soon to pick me up again, so I thought I'd better be ready." I didn't know any of that, and felt out of the loop for sure. Clueless all around. I ended up bringing Mom here and Lois picked her up later.

After the sheep were fed and the cattle watered and the greenhouse closed up for the night, I scrubbed my very black feet in the bath tub before slipping into my Birkenstock indoor sandals.

Later, Grant came home to clean up before going away again (with Clarissa, who arrived today--surprising Grant who thought she was coming tomorrow). "Did you say you had black feet?" Grant called from the bathroom. "I think the black stayed in the bathtub. You probably should have rinsed it down a little better."

So now I know one more thing I didn't do right today--rinsing the tub.

I'm going to bed. Tomorrow I'll take stock of what needs doing, and I'll start all over with planning my gardening tasks. I won't build any flair at all into the day's plans. Ordinary is fine by me.