Another world, Another Time..

Today began as any normal day-- Issac woke me up at 6:30 and I pulled the sheets over my head for more sleep. At 8:00, it was already roughly 80 degrees and we were both miserable. I decided to relieve the drudgery by putting the expensive bike seat I bought a few months ago to good use. This time Issac was eager to get in it, and we enjoyed a nice morning ride. I rode all the way to my aunt's house and up into her yard, but started to turn away as I realized that she might still be out of town at Quinn's baseball tournament. But thirst got the best of me, so I decided to let myself in and get a glass of ice water. To my surprise, I was greeted by my two regular "babysitters"--Sam and Quinn. Sam played with Issac while Quinn taught me how to knit. He's making a red wool scarf for this winter, and I got pretty good at it and finished eight or nine rows for him. While my needles were clacking away, Quinn got all dreamy-eyed and revealed to me his money-making schemes for the next year. He is going to borrow $900 from his Dad and invest it into chicken manure. With this manure, he is going to fertilize several acres of land that he will plow with Grandad's borrowed tractor. He will then plant corn, tomatoes, eggplant, pumpkin, and sugar snap peas. He will homeschool so that he can tend his garden. He will sell the produce at road corners and at the farmer's market. He expects to earn $3,000 and then plant it again in the spring. I asked him about fallow fields and he spouted off several knowledgeable figures. I was impressed. I didn't know the farmer was so deep in his blood. For a moment, as my needles were moving rythmically and this young child was eagerly discussing the state of the fields, I felt like I was in another time. Quinn's entrepenerial visions don't end with produce, though. He watched me knit and decided that we should start knitting scarves to sell during winter! I suggested that tiny baby booties and hats would be much more economical on our part. Then Issac came over and ripped the yarn out of my lap and we struggled over who would remain in control of the needles and in the struggle he pulled out a whole row of my stitches. Typical.

Then Quinn asked "So, whatcha doin' today?"

I said "Nothing, except for worrying about how broke I am."

And Quinn said, "Good."

And I said, "Good?"

And he calculated a grin and said, "Yeah, good! Do you want to sell watermelons today and split the profits down the middle?"

So that is how I found myself in another world, another time, a place that I have been removed from for far too long. I found myself in a timeless world, jouncing in the cab of a pick-up with a comfortable baby in my lap, rocking down small, bumpy, dirt lanes, through sandy pastures bedecked with cattle and more gates than you would care to stop and open. I found myself sweating in sandy fields, up to my knees in swirling vines, with a straw hat on my head, thumping on melons, with an ache in my back from bending. Years since I've done that. It took me right back to twelve years old, sitting on a tailgate and dragging designs in the dirt with my feet as we drove to these same fields in a similar truck, the long trips to Okechobee, the incredible wealth in knowing and feeling that all the land around you that you can see belongs to an Uncle or a cousin or a grandfather, someone who will take care of it forever and ever. When the world feels like it is closing in on you, it is good to go to a piece of land that belongs to you and remember the vast opportunity that is always present--the opportunity of brush pressing fence and tree blocking sun and weed choking plant and plant making fruit. Somehow, standing in my grandfather's field, I know that I am cared for. Land ownership is a powerful thing. I felt supported by the fruits bursting forth from the ground, knowing for certain that I can never go hungry.
I busted open a tiny melon for Issac by raising it over my head and slamming it on the ground. While he stuck his chubby hands into the red fleshy meat I carried melons to the side of the row. Later, holding Issac in one arm and scooping up melons in the other, I followed the slow-moving truck filling up the bed. Sweat was trickling down my back and off of my forehead--under any other circumstances I might have complained of the heat, but since I don't have air-conditioning, it is actually hotter in my house. It was fun, but I couldn't do a whole day of it.

Riding on the top of the stacked bed with the wind in my face, jumping off to race Quinn to the gates, was so much fun. We unloaded the melons into a cull-bin set on top of a pallet, and then Matt lifted the pallet with the tractor and drove down the road to the gas station. I pulled out a quilt, chairs, and beach umbrellas from my car, Jen picked up Issac for a couple of hours, and I sat in the shade reading Harper's magazines for 3 glorious and restful hours. We made $43. Doesn't sound like much, but to a girl who woke up in the morning with 66 cents worth of pennies in her possession and no gas in her car, $21.50 was a miracle.

I took my little farmer boys to see a movie and we had a blast. Dinner was on Quinn. Plus, I still have 1/2 a tank of gas! What an awesome day! Thank God for Farmers.