Planting Lettuce
We've officially been here one week. Our first work week ended with planting many, many onions, and a row of cabbage, a welding lesson, more tree pruning, and hauling more water. Like any new job, the first week feels like an overabundance of information that doesn't seem to stick. Endless questions for the person in charge and hesitation with just about every decision. Nevertheless, things are becoming more and more familiar and we aren't trusted with too much responsibility yet.
While planting individual onions (with their roots soaked in compost water) can be monotonous, Polly's husband, Niana from Ghana, sang Ghanian songs. Everyone that works on the CSA gardens is very nice and they all throw out tips to us when we are doing something new. Usually it is just Polly, Ann, Josh, and I but often Niana will join and occasionally friends will come by to help as well.
While planting individual onions (with their roots soaked in compost water) can be monotonous, Polly's husband, Niana from Ghana, sang Ghanian songs. Everyone that works on the CSA gardens is very nice and they all throw out tips to us when we are doing something new. Usually it is just Polly, Ann, Josh, and I but often Niana will join and occasionally friends will come by to help as well.
The Jamboree
Friday night, Josh and I, tiring of our forest abode, went into the big city, Floyd. About a 15 mile drive down the road is THE (as in the only) traffic light where we turned and parked and made our way to the Country Store. Yes this town has a stoplight, and an active one at that. Things would get pretty wild on the weekends without it. Friday nights attract a diverse crowd of folks to the Country Store for the weekly jamboree where people flatfoot dance to live bluegrass and eat ice cream from the front counter. One thing I've learned from watching this event is that stereotypes have to come from somewhere. You know the old country bumpkin with the grizzled face, missing teeth, and indistinguishable speech? He lives here. Another man wore a shirt displaying a field of horses galloping into the scarlet sunset. His lady donned a long dress and a well-crafted braid down her back. It was a cultural experience and everyone seemed to be loving it. We stood back this time, just surveying the scene. Perhaps next week will bring our feet to the floor.
Laundry- notice the hippie shroud left for us
Saturday a big event happened, one that still continues today. We did laundry. Very exciting I know. There were clothes from our two-week trip out here as well as from this past week. This big event was accompanied, of course, by another event- a rain storm. Hanging wet clothes on the line is not terribly effective when the air is wet too. Our cabin became militantly occupied by an army of soggy denim and cotton. Not a fierce platoon but a persistent one at least. Today it still hangs over me, literally, as I write this and the propane heater warms my skin. Dealing with this blob of wet clothes is really not so bad, it just requires patience. We have nothing to do today but be, so why not dry clothes at the same time.
It was a pancake morning and will be a soup night. We had a chocolate chip cookie evening and may have a wheat bread tomorrow. All of these glorious things and plenty of time to make them. And the wind-up radio continues to play.
It was a pancake morning and will be a soup night. We had a chocolate chip cookie evening and may have a wheat bread tomorrow. All of these glorious things and plenty of time to make them. And the wind-up radio continues to play.