I bumped into a farmer’s wife (anonymous) a few days ago and had a nice friendly little conversation. After the initial hello’s and how are you’s were complete, I asked if her husband (anonymous) has been in the field yet.
She answered that he had, but was perhaps second guessing his decision on the particular field and acres sown. Rain was in the forecast this is good of course, but so was hail. And as it was told to me, hail falling on freshly planted seed is bad it stunts the growth or inhibits germination somehow.
“I’ll be darned,” I replied, “never heard such a thing.” The knowledge I’ve picked up since transplanting to Nebraska, in relating to the enthusiastic sharing of good ole’fashioned wives tales has been enlightening.
I would tend to believe that most folks be they a country person or a city dweller, are vaguely familiar with the “furry squirrel” or “wooly worm” anecdote for predicting the weather. The fog, a ring around the moon, and the thickness of the skin on a walnut are also common precursors to which I am aware of. But the “hail tale” has me concerned.
I’ve been yammering most of the winter about building a raised garden bed, waist high for easy weed picking and sweat free harvest. After deciding the measurements and architecture, I sketched out a rude drawing and inventoried the scraps of lumber collecting dust in the garage.
The purchases of a few more boards were necessary, but the total investment was minimal. By mid-afternoon it was complete. Strong enough to hold my weight, I was confident it would handle the load of the soil. I resisted the urge to lay down in it, theorizing that if I did and a sudden heart attack were to call me home, would the obituary even mention it?
Calculating the interior cavity’s cubic feet for how much dirt I’ll need was easy. My local math teacher (anonymous) would be proud. The length, width and depth are all that’s needed with some simple multiplication.
"Measure twice and cut once" as the saying goes and so I did. A quick consultation on the computer led me to adjust my number. I tried though. Life isn’t fair, math is.
The bunker was aligned in between the windows of the “she shed” just as we had discussed at breakfast, then filled and planted. An internal self-satisfaction that people rightfully feel after an accomplishment no matter the scope or scale was briefly enjoyed, diminished slightly after I was informed of a miscommunication on the exact positioning. I obviously had misinterpreted a word or two between an egg and slice of bacon.
Storms were on the horizon and oddly enough as the meteorologists had suggested, precipitation was eminent. We did in fact receive a nice slow soaker through the night and for much of the following day.
My skepticism was aroused however, wondering if any icy orbs from the day’s warm updrafts had intermingled with the cold winds aloft and doomed my project. I could picture the possibility how the isotopes and the negative electrical charge of the hydrogen and oxygen atoms would discombobulate and distort the positive electrical charge and foul everything up. There is nothing I can do but wait and see.
In my eyes it is a rectangular wooden work of art, resembling most feed troughs constructed for livestock; simple and solid.
We enjoy the spontaneous visits from our local little neighbor boy (anonymous), always inquisitive and full of questions and opinion. I could hear him approaching from the south, bouncing along on his battery operated John Deere tractor as I stood stoically admiring my craftsmanship. As I turned to greet him, he pointed and asked, “You got cows?”
“No, that’s called a raised garden,” I answered with enthusiasm as he listened intently. “We have red radishes, white radishes, leaf lettuce and spinach. The seeds should sprout in four or five days." He briefly looked toward the bunker, glanced back at me for a moment, and then back toward the bunker. “No cows?” he asked.
“Nope, just vegetables,” I replied. Not interested, he sharply turned the wheel and smashed the pedal to the floor, off to another location. (Anonymous)
