This was a good Sunday. I read through two issues of Growing for Market, a very short publication on market gardening. I don’t know why I like it so much (maybe because it is only 24 pages, so I can actually get through it all? Probably), but it was fun to read.
I think I have little crises of faith periodically, and this morning was one of them. As we talk about what would be helpful on our land (a tractor; irrigation; a more permanent dwelling), I freak out a little, as we have had SO MUCH money go out the last month, and no money come in yet. And the house continues not to sell. I sometimes feel like I’m playing “chicken” with God, rushing headlong to financial destruction but hoping and praying that He comes through in the end. Will my faith hold? Is it supposed to hold? Are we insane?
But then there are the ways we can recite his faithfulness. Our truck, that Dennis says not only has $1000 of tires, but also a new engine. That’s the third person who has said we got a complete steal on that truck. Or the fact that we bought our land a few months before land prices across the US went through the roof. (I mean, we paid about $5500 per acre, when most land in our county goes for between $8K and $14K. The year after we bought our land, acres in the Heartland were going for about $5K an acre, maybe double what they were the year before. Want to live on an acre in Iowa? Pay $5K.)
Or the fact that we live in, perhaps, the most friendly place on earth. This morning a man drove up with a huge beard down his chest (from my vantage point, he looked a little like Michael Pearl, if that means anything to you—do an Internet search maybe). Jerry just wanted to let us know that we could come by if we need anything, and to remind us that we can go to the swimming hole on the Rockfish River. Really nice. Then while we were at our creek, Hog Creek, cultured neighbor Butch stopped by to drop off all the free magazines that let the reader know what cultural events are going on in C-ville, as well as a farming catalog and a few other things he thought might be helpful. Really nice. And then this afternoon, when I was in my undies behind the trailer trying out the solar shower, the Bessettes stopped by (thankfully Phil had reminded me to get a towel before I started, and he let me know that they were coming down the driveway—otherwise, eeek!), just to say hi and to invite us for a swim. Really nice.
The neat things about today: we decided we should order more trees. Peaches, cherries, maybe pears, plums, and apricots. I want a few nut trees and some random fruits for our personal consumption, but how lovely to have a more varied orchard. I think maybe we’ll get about 50 more, to make the total planting somewhere around two acres. I’m thankful we have seven months to deal with uprooting trees, getting ponds dug and irrigation ready, fencing out deer, adding soil amendments, digging 300 holes, and whatever else must happen.
Phil hung the clothes line. It has about 50 feet of hanging space, and slides very easily. As it runs from the hill our trailers are on, to a tree across an expanse, I doubt our clothes will drag on the ground at all.
Phil went to get water from neighbor Brian’s place. Recently divorced (we met his former wife back in October), he was really lonely and talked Phil’s ear off—what parts Phil could understand. (Some locals have a deep Virginia accent.) But having about 60 gallons of water in buckets and bins made us feel so wealthy. We can bathe! We can wash dishes and drink water and other great things!
Phil drove the truck much of the way down to the creek. He cut down a tree or two with his axe, and then we hiked the rest of the way. He went bathing au naturel in the creek, and the boys went “swimming” in their skivvies.
So cute! Abraham, though, stayed in his clothes and duck boots: filthy face, hot body, stubborn boy. I took off my shoes and walked along the low creek bottom, amidst the minnows and the red silt. I was so pleased to find Jewelweed, a plant that counteracts poison ivy. It has beautiful orange flowers (they look a bit like miniature jack-in-the-pulpits, I think), and the leaves are water-repellant. When put underwater, they turn silver, and when released, they spring to the surface, completely dry. I put some on my patch of poison ivy, and it did relieve the itch somewhat.
At one point in my river walk, my feet felt so chewed up by the sharp edges of the river rocks, I stepped onto a larger flat rock, holding on to a branch for support. The rock tipped, the branch broke, and I fell forward (with the baby on my back, my balance was a bit off anyway). I jammed all my toes badly, which made me see stars, and when I stepped onshore, one toe was bleeding from a gash, and that made me feel faint. Then poor Abraham, who had opted to stay behind because he doesn’t like the water, started crying thinking I had abandoned him, and Phil was further upstream, exploring.
For some reason, that little bit of drama reminds me of when we first drove onto our land, three weeks ago. Within three minutes, Phil was walking with his parents to show them the boundary lines of the property, and Zach Bush happened to call. I answered, ecstatic to be here finally, and we were both praising God on the phone. Meanwhile, Jadon had gotten out of the car, only to be attacked by sweatbees, little flying ant-like insects that sometimes sting. He was, apparently, getting stung, and climbed up on top of the minivan, where he was weeping and calling for aid. I, not being good at multi-tasking on the phone, did not notice.
Here’s how Jadon tells it: “My first memory of Virginia was getting out of the car and the sweatbees started stinging, while Mom talked happily on the telephone, and Abraham slept peacefully in the car.”Good use of adverbs on his part; bad parenting on mine. The first time he volunteered this description, I cracked up ... “and Abraham slept peacefully in the car.” Do you think he reads very much?
Without many fresh foods (it is hard to eat fresh when there is no refrigeration, and no things growing), we ate two good meals of rice noodles with canned fish, capers, garlic, and butter. From a “roughing it” standpoint, that’s not too bad.
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