Day 14, June 1, 2010

The other day, Debbie asks me if I think I'd be able to prepare and plant this garden without her help. She might have phrased this differently. Something like, say, "Hey Ben! There's no way you'd be able to do all of this alone!"

"Not sure," I answer with a muddy mid-field hug. Inside, I'm tallying her hours. "Not sure... but it wouldn't be as much fun, and I wouldn't be this far along." A few minutes later, I ask, "Are you burning out." I couldn't imagine this, but one never knows.

"Nope. I love this."

"What do you love the most about it?"

"I love the peace and quiet."

Good enough for me, I reason, watching her raking endless rocks to make way for nine long rows of bush beans. Debbie never seemed quiet when I met her. I've begun to notice, though, that we can spend six hours working at Wychwood Farm, and barely speak to each other.

"Boo!"

I turn around, and she has a petrified turkey claw in her gloved paw. And that's Debbie. Serious, hard-working, and totally off the wall when the time is right. Blue Clover. She tries it. Relic horse shoe? She finds a place for it.

Heirloom tomatoes? "Let's try some," she urges before she finds a special space for them. I'd never heard of Muck Boots before Debbie bought me a pair. Now they're all I wear in the garden. They're stable. Waterproof. They breathe!

I like having Debbie around in the garden. I like having her around in my life, of course, but this is all about a particular point and place in my life. Her knowledge of flowers and plants is, at least to me, encyclopedic. She never tires of even the most mundane tasks. If there's tension, she finds a way to break it. I usually end up laughing.

What more can you ask from a friend?

And this is why, after spending a long weekend together, much of it in the garden, I feel sluggish on this day-after-Memorial Day. June 1st. The day everything is supposed to be in the ground.

I plant four rows of specialty corn. It's call Popping Corn, and I want to see what it is like to grown one's own popcorn. I have a trademark for a candy product that uses popcorn. It might be fun to play around with it, and see what we can come up with at our summer stand.

Just as I'm getting used to Debbie's absence, a strong gust of wind sends dust across the field. In the distance: thunder. Above my head, the rain is starting to fall, so, in my muck boots and corny straw hat, I grab the wheelbarrow and dash into the barn.