The Journal: Ash Fall

by Moore, Deborah D.

  “Don’t want you?” I snorted. “Of course I want you, John. I’ve been miserable without you. I don’t want you here out of some kind of obligation though.” When he started to interrupt, I held up my hand to stop him. “Do you want to be here? Do you want to be with me? And will you promise to not leave like that again?”

  He stood up from the table, and came around to my side, taking my hand and pulling me into his arms again. “Yes, Allex, I want to be here, with you. I… I...”

  “Spit it out, John, I can take it.”

  “I must confess that this scares me spit-less. I love you, Allex. I won’t ever leave you again.”

  Love me? He’d never told me that before. I kissed him lightly, and then sighed when he pulled me even closer.

  “What shift are you on? When do you have to report back in?”

  “I’m on rotation.” He grinned. “The two weeks to see my daughter was out of sequence. So when I got back I worked only two more weeks to be back in sync with my crew. This is our normal time off, so they don’t expect me back for another ten days.”

  Ten days. My heart was tripping over itself with the prospect.

  * * *

  Inside the house, John looked around.

  “Something’s different,” he observed. “You painted. It’s blue now instead of green. It looks good.”

  “A few weeks ago I decided I needed to make some changes.” I took a deep breath. He should hear the truth. “Everything reminded me of you. I had to do something so I could move on. I repainted the TV room too, and the bedroom. I rearranged the furniture, replaced some light fixtures. A few changes helped pull me out of the deep hole I was in.”

  His face fell when he grasped what I was saying. “I’m so sorry to have put you through all of this, Allex. I really am, and I hope in time you will forgive me.”

  I hope so, too, I thought silently.

  May 5

  Tufts meowing in the hallway roused me from a deep and restful sleep. I stretched and felt the body next to mine. I rolled to my side and smiled into John’s sleepy blue eyes.

  “Good morning” he said and kissed me lightly. I snuggled closer to him, my head on his shoulder, ignoring Tufts’ protests. Yes, it was a very good morning.

  * * *

  Over coffee and toast with jam, we discussed the day. Some things just would not wait. I needed to finish the fencing, and two of us working on it would make it go much quicker. What would take me all day should only take the two of us a few hours. Then I needed to rake out the garden and add the last of the commercial lime. Every winter, I’ve added all the wood ash I gathered from the wood stove to help balance the acidic soil in the garden. I found myself wondering if it would be enough when the lime ran out.

  We finished the new fences, and while John made the gate, I inspected the perimeter fencing for winter damage and made a few repairs. When I did the original fence, I started with two foot chicken wire at the bottom because it was easier to handle by myself. I buried six inches into the ground to keep any animals from digging under, and then attached the remaining eighteen inches to the posts I had set every eight feet. Once done, I ran four foot fencing above the shorter fence, overlapping it only slightly, and attaching the two together with small zip ties. I loved zip ties, however, they did break and needed to be replaced occasionally. I had a good stock of them, now I was thinking I should use wire, if I could find any. There were things I had not thought of to stock up on.

  We had an easy lunch of egg salad sandwiches and tomato soup while planning out the rest of the afternoon.

  “What’s next on the agenda?” John asked. It was good to see him enthused about this kind of work.

  “Well, the wire around the top of the fence needs to be tightened up, and then the electric fence charger reinstalled so we can attach those wires. I really don’t want to do any work in the garden until it’s protected from the animals.”

  “Makes sense,” he replied, eying all the foot high tomato plants sitting in front of the windows.

  “Before planting the garden, I want to rake out and plant one of the new yards for the chickens. I’m thinking of planting vetch or clover. I’ve got seed for both. I was going to do a ‘green manure’ planting for the garden and never got around to it.”

  “Why not seed some of both?” he questioned. “That way they would get a little variety.”

  I smiled. It was good to have him back.

  “Good idea, John, we can do that.”

  * * *

  John pulled the tiller back into the garden and walked it into the first chicken yard. I was really happy he volunteered to do that, since the ground in that area hadn’t been broken in years. I dug around in the metal trash can where I kept all my seeds, found what I needed, and mixed a cup full of the ground cover. It might take a month or six weeks for it to grow enough, and the sooner it was planted the sooner the chickens would have something healthy and natural to eat and I could cut back on the remaining feed. I was worried about how I was going to keep them fed this next winter. It was definitely worthy of a family discussion at some point.

  “How are the chickens laying, Allex?” John asked as he put the tiller away.

  “The eight hens are giving five to six eggs each day, sometimes only four, though. Someone is slowing down.” I frowned.

  The oldest of “the girls”, two black Astralorpes, were now five years old. Their seven off spring were three years old. It was time to renew the flock. As noisy as he could be, I was glad I kept the one rooster.

  John chuckled. “What are you thinking? I can see those wheels turning.”

  “I’m thinking we need to stop eating eggs for a week and collect enough to fill the incubator, and then hatch out a new flock.”

  “Why does it not surprise me that you have an incubator?” He reached out and gave me a hug. “Where is it? I’ll get it down for you.”

  I put the lightweight incubator box and the egg-turner in the house to be washed later, and went back to the garden. John had already started the raking, which was another thing that would be done much quicker with two of us. I hand spread the seed around the inner yard, and grabbed a second rake. We worked silently side by side for another hour. As delighted as I was that so much was done today, it was time to stop and clean up. My lower back was feeling the strain.

  * * *

  After my shower, I slipped on a casual t-shirt dress that was cool on my legs and made me feel more feminine. Feeling feminine was not something I had worried about for the past several weeks.

  While John showered, I washed and sterilized the incubator, and set it aside. It would be started with the first eggs tomorrow. Jason and I experimented one year and realized we had a better hatching rate if the incubator was started immediately, rather than waiting until it was full. That also let the chicks hatch out over a period of time instead of all at once.

  JOURNAL ENTRY: May 5

  It’s been a long and hot day, with temperatures into the 80’s. For dinner I mixed up a cold macaroni and tuna salad, using rehydrated celery and red sweet peppers, canned peas, and the first of the fresh onions from the garden I planted last fall in the raised beds. We drank the last bottle of white wine from the shelf, one of Nancy’s stash. I think I will use some of my paycheck from the township to replace the wine supply. Maybe I should look for wine making supplies instead.

  * * *

  May 6

  “I think we should plant the garden today,” I mentioned to John over our morning coffee. “The ground is ready. We can do the seeds and the potatoes, but I’d rather wait another week or two for the plants.”

  He looked at me over his cup.

  “That is, if you want to help.”

  “Allex, of course I want to help. I will do whatever you want me to do, to be part of here and part of your life again.” He said it with such sincerity that I believed him. “What are we planting?”

  “I still have the layout we worked on earlier,” I said softly. “It
’s a good plan and utilizes the space well.”

  I took a sip, remembering how I changed a few things after he left. I wasn’t going to plant the collards he wanted, or the okra.

  “We can do the first row of green beans, peas, pea pods, cucumbers, and the carrots, beets, turnips, collards and of course lettuce,” I read off the list.

  He grinned at that, knowing how much I love salads. The memory danced across my mind of him having the opportunity to buy anything he wanted at the bulk food store and chose to buy lettuce, for me.

  “I have enough trellises in place to do three plantings of the peas and pea pods,” I said. “By planting every three weeks we can have a continuous harvest of those. I know shell peas take so much room to get so little, but they’re so good and I really like them. We can put them against the chickens’ fence. When the second sowing is producing, the first will be pulled up and replanted. The cucumbers can manage on the same trellis. I’ll plant half the width, wait until it starts flowering, then plant the other half. This way we can have fresh cukes and peas well into October.”

  John nodded.

  “Green beans will be done similar, for a different reason,” I explained to John. “Beans are usually quite prolific, and as much as we will need to feed all of us, they will likely still overproduce. I have only so much time for canning, and I don’t want to be needlessly overwhelmed. The beans will be planted in three stages, giving us plenty to eat, without having bushels full all at once.”

  It crossed my mind then, that I should teach all of my family how to can.

  “I think we should do a small patch of corn, too. Four rows maybe six or eight feet long. They should ripen all at once, no way around that, so we will have some to eat and a few dozen to can.”

  “Why four rows?” John asked. “And is there really enough room for everything?”

  “For pollination four rows is the minimum. When we do that spot, it might be more, maybe five rows. It will have to wait a day or two though. Those seeds need to soak at least overnight. We will double up certain things. The winter squash, like pumpkins and acorn, can be planted right with the corn, so yes, there’s room.” I could already taste the crunch of those golden kernels.

  “You have all the seeds you need?”

  “When I bought my heirloom seeds a year ago, I bought way more than I knew I could use in one year. I have plenty.” I answered. My coffee was getting cold. I got up to retrieve the pot for us. “I’ve been into town only twice in the last few weeks, and there was very little available. It seems everyone is planting a garden this year and that’s a good thing!”

  A thought kicked across my mind. I needed to talk to Anna. While John got started with the last of the raking, and after promising I wouldn’t be long, I made a quick trip into Moose Creek.

  * * *

  “You want to do what?” Anna asked curiously.

  “I think the town needs its own community garden,” I repeated. “That acre next to Bradley’s house would be perfect. Everyone can walk to it, and it’s in full sun. I think Bradley would be pleased.” He was one we lost to the flu epidemic that decimated the town this past spring. “I can donate some seed; others will have to come up with seed too. I’ll even help lay it out. It can be done in personal plots, or all as one. That will be up to the townsfolk. Anna, the town has to feed itself,” I said, remembering all too well how the town nearly starved to death this past winter.

  “I agree. What do you suggest we do?”

  “First we have to find someone with a tractor that can plow and disc the land. Once that’s done, we’ll get Carolyn involved and plan it out.”

  Carolyn was our local minister, and she was pivotal in keeping The Stone Soup Kitchen functioning, and keeping the people united during our very dark time. I just knew she would do it again. Being a minister fit her well; she had a kind and loving soul.

  “Okay, let me work on it. What are you doing today?” Anna asked.

  “I’m going back home and plant my garden!” I stopped when I got to the door. “Oh, and Anna, John is back.” I left her stunned with my announcement. I know I smirked all the way home.

  The day was long, hot and productive. With both of us working, we got half of the garden planted. In another week or two we can put in a good portion of the plants I had growing in the house that were staying protected from a possible late frost. Two weeks after that the rest of the seeds could go in along with the second planting of vegetable seeds we did today.

  Being self-sufficient is part of being prepared, an important part, and that need was growing stronger in me. I’d always tried to heed those feelings, and it usually served me well. Something was tweaking my alert system. I didn’t know what it was, but I’d listen, although it was likely just memories of this past winter and worrying about shortages. I wish I could easily resupply everything we used over the winter. I don’t think that will be possible though.

  CHAPTER 4

  May 7

  Keith Kay stopped by this morning to see if I was still interested in fire wood.

  “Of course I am!” I readily agreed. “And you saved me from having to track you down, Keith.”

  We’d been friends a long time and he had furnished my stove wood for many years. Having it cut, split and delivered saved me a great deal of time that I could spend on other things, including the garden.

  “Unfortunately, the price has gone up, Allexa. It’s the cost of gas for the splitter machine and diesel for this hog of a truck,” he said, pointing a thumb at the large red dump truck parked in my driveway.

  “I understand, Keith, the cost of everything has gone up. When can you bring the first load?” I asked. I was delighted when he said later that day. It gave me peace of mind to get all my winter wood done early in the season. I had acres of wood I could harvest, and cutting wood was very time consuming. We used a lot of wood last winter for staying warm and cooking, and we needed every piece we could store.

  “So how did you do this winter, Keith? How’s Carron? I didn’t see either of you at the food bank at the township hall,” I asked.

  “The wife is fine and it’s thanks to her that we made it,” Keith said. “She did a lot of canning last fall. I must admit, though, I got real tired of tomatoes and green beans.” He laughed. “But we didn’t starve, and I did manage to get a deer or two, which helped, and the swamp was abundant with rabbit. Of course staying warm wasn’t a problem.”

  I imagined not; he must have years of wood stacked in his yard.

  * * *

  After Keith left, John and I emptied the woodshed of the remaining two face cord that we didn’t burn over the winter and I stacked it on the pallets nearest the house for the first burn in the fall.

  “Aren’t you putting any on that other set of pallets?” he asked, looking toward the small brown barn that I used for storing canning jars and equipment. Under the clothesline attached to the short sloping roof were three empty wooden pallets.

  “Yes, I have longer range plans for that spot though. There are a couple of trees down by the creek that fell during a wind storm that still need to be cut up, and one that has already been bolted,” I explained. “It will be very green wood and need longer seasoning so I want to keep it separate. Once we get the shed full, you can cut up the trees whenever you want, if you want.”

  I so appreciated the work he was helping me with and I certainly didn’t want to take advantage of him, plus I didn’t want to wear him out. My heart tugged at the thought of him going back to work soon.

  John grinned at me. “It’s been awhile since I’ve used a chain saw. It might be fun.”

  Fun? I smiled, bemused. I don’t think he understood how many trees there were, and that cutting was only the first step. The bolts then need to be hauled up near the pallets, much easier now with the four-wheelers, then there was the splitting and stacking. It was all hot, sweaty work, and black fly season was approaching, not to mention the ticks and the mosquitoes, another reason I liked to ge
t the firewood done early.

  * * *

  It was always a shock to get that first load of wood dumped in the yard. Keith showed up later in afternoon with a trailer loaded instead of the dump truck. John gaped at the pile.

  “Is all that going to fit into that small shed?” he mumbled. The 8x8x8 shed held a full ten face cord of stacked wood.

  “Actually, this will only fill it halfway,” I said.

  He looked skeptical. On my own, it would take me a week to stack this much wood, re-splitting what I needed to. Keith had a commercial splitter, so it only did standard cuts for a wood stove. Having a wood cook stove, my wood requirement was slightly different. I need smaller, just not shorter, pieces. About half of this wood would need to be split again. I really didn’t mind. I felt like I was doing more of the process myself this way. Of course having a gas log splitter helped a great deal.

  I explained to John about the various sizes while we sorted through the pile nearest the wood shed, tossing pieces in that direction. Then we stepped over the wood now inside the shed and I started lining up hunks of the wood on the floor in a particular fashion, explaining why as I went.

  “Even though the shed has sides that could hold the wood in place, I don’t want to put the physical pressure on the boards. By stacking as if it were a free standing rick, we get the same amount in, without possible damage to the building. Last thing we need is a collapsed shed in the middle of winter.” I showed him how turning the end pieces sideways every other row gave a stable foundation for the next row, and how by using a piece that had a flat side kept the wood from rolling. Whole, un-split logs could be stacked in the middle, not on the ends. It was all very similar to how we had just done the pallet stacking, only on a larger scale. There was also a need to pitch the rows slightly backward, to prevent the row from falling forward. I once had a stack of wood fall and narrowly missed getting my legs buried in logs. I had listened to that inner voice and moved out of the way only seconds before getting crushed.