Farmwork is a year round proposition as I learned early on. With living things counting on you, chores go on EVERYday (including holidays). I remember calling to wish Thurman a Merry Christmas last year and his wife telling me he was feeding cows…that he’d call me later—a reminder that critters can’t read calendars. Forget time off just because the world is celebrating. You’ll celebrate yours after chores get done and mouths get fed. In the summer months you add a whole ‘nother element to things as ripened plants left unpicked start to rot in no time thanks to the heat; what’s more, picking regularly keeps the plants producing more, so to mess up Mother Nature’s cycle is to mess with Mother Nature herself (which trust me, you do not want to do).
Still and so, holidays carry their own special vibe. Even with tasks to complete, there’s something about knowing others out there have gotten a jump start…that there won’t be a lot of business emails to respond to (and even if there were, you have every right to hold off responding til Monday, after all, it’s a holiday weekend~Who knows who’s checking what.)
With this in mind, I had my weekend before me. First of the three days I had folks coming in…Friends coming by swapping blackberries for squash…gardening tips for coffee. Later in the day, two of Rosey’s pups came to visit (along with their peeps). In between, I tackled a variety of backed up “honey-do’s” (I, being my own honey around here to do things). In short, I got a ton of stuff done, leisurely catching up on everything from laundry to weed eating. The next day, I would venture out!
Day 2 of the holiday weekend, and the plan was to head East to big Smithvegas—home of the Fiddlers Jamboree. With friends and family awaiting, I had strategically timed my day just so…so that I could leave the critters post lunch, with overstocks of cool water and extra chow, all so I could enjoy the sunset carefree, while listening to fiddlers and banjo pickers from all across the region.
But such was not to be…To quote my boy Steinbeck, “The best laid plans of mice and men, often go awry…” In my case, it was the best laid plans of gardens, goats, pups and one independent girl mapping an independence holiday, only to have it go bust in her face. Opting to take the “fun car” (my 2004 Miata convertible, soon to trade for a truck, once I can get past the sentimentality factor) I packed its trunk with veggies and lavender cuttings for a stop at my family’s cemetery. I had loaded the last of things I need for the evening when, click. Dead was the battery.
No problem, I thought. I’ve done this before. I pulled out the cables, hooked it to the working farm vehicle and started things right up. Only, in going too fast, I wired things backwards, and POOF~ smoke and sparks coming off not one, but two car batteries! NOT a good sign. (Amazing I didn’t kill myself or singe my eyebrows in the process.)
OK. So we take the guzzler. No big deal. I’ll just repack. But, no-no, nay-nay. Seems my dyslexic wiring attempt has now netted me TWO dead batteries. I was going nowhere fast without someone to help. That’s when it hit me…
One neighbor has just moved; new neighbors coming next week. Another was off with his family not to return til dark…another yet, was in Paris. In short, I was stuck.
Sure there were other friends. But at 1 o’clock in the afternoon, mid holiday weekend, most were on the lake or mid celebrations of their own. To call them now would be downright selfish. Nope. This holiday commemorating independence everywhere, was clearly meant to be celebrated independently.
It’s that first few minutes of realizing you are not in control that’ll make or break you. Yes, there were tears. (It was a short pity party, but it happened.) Yes, there was a curse word or two (make it three). I looked up and 16 goats were staring at me from their little goat gate, as if to say “What about us? We’re still here.”
With that, I slowly unpacked the car, and came in to text friends saying “Maybe next year.” Around dark neighbors texted to say “Our fireworks are starting” so I did enjoy a celebration as I was able to walk next door. The good news is I didn’t have to fight traffic. I got to bed earlier than I would’ve otherwise. The next day I caught up with those I’d missed to hear great reports of music, laughter and perfect weather shared by friends and loved ones who I’m told toasted me from afar.
For a girl who loves her independence, it was if God was saying, “Hey Chickie…This one’s for you~ What say you spend it in the truest spirit of things?”
Not the worst that can happen on a holiday. But a reminder that for all my love of independence, there really is no such thing. The more I live in this perceived state of independence, the more I’m reminded that we are all reliant upon each other. It’s not independence we live, but interdependence…never more evident than in my (so called) Independence Day.
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