I thought living on a farm might be simple, quiet, with lots of time to repose, relax, reflect and to write. My memories of childhood here were innocent and protected and blissfully unaware of all the hard work that goes into maintaining a log cabin and its surrounding property. When we returned from summer vacation, we discovered a house completely full of mold. The a/c went out. So did the washing machine. And the dryer. We needed to mow, but guess what? It quit working, too. As we hauled dozens and dozens of loads of laundry into town, washed every dish in the house (by hand – the dishwasher leaked water all over the floor) and scrubbed walls and furniture, we were grateful to have a place to come home and that the well still pumped water.
Then school started. I lavishly ordered full curricula for both children, signed them up for music and sports, and considered bushwhacking into the shoulder-high weeds that surrounded my garden. Little by little, we made our way in and found, to our unending astonishment, loads of beautiful cherry tomatoes. The plants spread, unstaked, leaving the impression of post-Christmas disarray, bright red bulbs scattered on a green carpet of vines. Gingerly we weeded and watered and 2 months later, we still have tomatoes! I don’t know whether to credit Seeds of Change or if it was just plain good luck!
So school began. The house was clean, appliances replaced and we resumed our normal busy lives. Unfortunately, the rain did not resume its normal pattern. Water levels dropped and the ground cracked. As water became scarcer and scarcer, the animals drew to the shrinking pond and insects crawled inside the house. At first, I tried to be at peace with the numerous centipedes crawling on the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and the screen doors. I exercised patience as I tried to read on the couch while watching them crawl from one end of the room to the other. Occasionally, I grew exasperated and went on a killing spree, crushing as many as I could until, just a few minutes into it, I would lose count somewhere around 40 or 50. It was bad. I called Pest Control. I talked to Neighbors. I asked the County Extension Agent. Nobody had any idea how to handle it. My peace came undone when, during the night, I woke to a stinging sensation. As I turned to locate the source of the sting, more stings came. Desperately turning the light on, I screamed to find a 3″ long, fat centipede ducking as desperately under the covers. Yes, we killed him but how many more would crawl into bed with me? I didn’t take a chance, packed up the kids and fled to my mom’s. We bought something at a Tractor Supply and spread it around the house. Whether they went away on their own or from whatever that stuff was, I’ll never know. But I could finally sleep again.
Until I found the large, perfectly formed, red circles with a 4″-diameter on my son’s torso. The next day, there were two more. Turning over the mattress, we found the big mama spider and all her eggs right behind, below, under where my youngest son sleeps. In her “nest” were dozens of centipede carcasses. Did the spider eat all the centipedes? Just behind the spider was a sliver of a gap about 3′ long between mortar and log, just the right size through which a centipede could crawl and the perfect location for a spider to dine. Yes, she and all her babes are gone, too. That gap in the mortar? Caulked.
This morning, after an overnight soak of almonds, hazelnuts and pecans, I opened the oven to dehydrate them and saw… a mouse! (Cute, I might add.) I didn’t kill this time, though I did turn on the oven and watch as the cat sniffed out the little guy’s entry. That hole? Stuffed.
For now, we have had a bit of rain. How much, I don’t know, but it was a bit. Enough to wash off the gray-white dust from all the leaves lining the long driveway and to see their green shine again. One well has stopped pumping and we are rationing our water from the other well. Fingers crossed, we will get more rain soon.
In the meantime, we’re still here. We have lettuce, swiss chard, asparagus and cabbage growing. And we’re still getting tomatoes. Thank you, Seeds of Change.
