Well, my bones and joints feel old after a day on the mowing machine. It takes forever to mow a field that has been let go. Yesterday I mowed grass and goldenrod taller than I am. You go forward and flatten it and strip most of the leaves, back up the mower to push up the bent stems, and mow it again. I have worked most of this week mowing the large field up by the road and mailbox, which had been neglected all summer.
My unexpected trip to the hospital last spring really set me back in my vegetable and flower gardens. Folks look and say “How beautiful!” with no concept of what it used to look like. Most of our large fields were pine forest when I moved home from Damariscotta. It took years to clear the stumps left after the wood was chipped to burn in the Naval Air Station boilers.
My lower back and shoulders kick up pain awfully after a day of mowing. Thank God I have my pain medicine to take when I go to bed. I can’t see what the fuss is all about, because I don’t get high on it; the pain just goes away. On the other hand, I have smoked enough medical marijuana to get a regiment high, but I don’t get high on that either. It just helps the pain.
We have fights about it. Why do you go out and work if you know it is going to hurt? I answer, “Because the flowers don’t weed themselves.” Neither do the green beans. Robin has been bringing in baskets of stuff from the garden. I hear him bragging to guests how much we eat out of our garden.
Well, when I cleaned the chicken house, I put it under the green beans and the pole beans, both planted the same day. You can see in the photo that the beans have done very well.
This afternoon while I mow, Robin is going to snap beans and we are going to pressure-cook the winter’s supply of green beans for Robin’s favorite dish: green beans poached with potatoes in buttered milk. Mamma taught me how to can many years ago and now it is going to pay off. I might have a photo next week of our efforts.
(Doug Wright lives over Head Tide Hill in Whitefield.)
