Pity in my garden - June 10/20

 

I should have had that BULL dozer

                                    by Robert LaFrance

            As the Coronavirus rules creakily begin to loosen, I find myself going into stores that I never would had ventured into in earlier days.

            Not exactly a store, but Caterpillar Heavy Equipment Sales of Upper Kintore sells D12 bulldozers. Last Tuesday I found myself walking through their yard and trying to decide if I needed a piece of equipment that big to scrape off my garden, or would a D9 do the trick?

            “Let’s go home, Bob,” my wife gently took me by the arm and led me to the gate. “Your Husqvarna tiller is enough. You only have three rows of potatoes, half a row of string beans and some marigolds.”

            I was all the way home before I stopped trembling, imagining that D9 Caterpillar bulldozer scraping the earth all around my garden. NOTE: In addition to what my wife said, I have a full row of string beans and even some radishes.

            It’s amazing how all this quarantining and isolating and watching the news can make one lose all semblance of perspective. She’ll be better when the worst of it is over.

                                                ****************

            There is some major construction going on at our estate, even though it doesn’t involve a bulldozer. We are putting a roof on my former root cellar and turning it into a tool shed, or equipment shed as certain spouses of mine insists. ‘Tool shed’ is not high-class enough I suppose, or maybe she knows too many people who are tools and she doesn’t want to hear that word any more.

            The former root cellar ceased to be a root cellar in the 1990s; one winter morning when I went in there (after an absence of ten days or two weeks) and saw that (1) all the insulation had been torn off the roof, making it a bit brisk in there since it was about –15º

C outside. In truth, being inside the root cellar was about the same as being outside.

            Ah well, I sighed philosophically, maybe a few of my carrots, potatoes and apples are still edible. I lifted up the Styrofoam insulation and was presented with the shocking sight of half-eaten vegetables and fruit. The mice, rats and squirrels had discovered the Holy Grail, it seemed. Not one carrot or anything else had escaped the molars of those blessèd creatures. When I say ‘blessèd’, I mean &^%$#(*&#$.

            I closed the root cellar door and didn’t return to that scene again until last year when certain spouses of mine decided that I would tear down my present equipment shed (a former henpen) for the flimsy reason that there were about 47 holes in the roof. That was part A. Part B was that I must tear off the rotted root cellar roof and replace it with good lumber. Even shingles or something that wouldn’t let the rain in.

            In May I took delivery of nine trusses and enough boards to make an actual roof, and when some carpenters were here working on one of our wind-damaged house roofs (rooves?) I asked them to put up the trusses. I could have done it myself of course, but I wanted it done right. Not that I would have done it wrong; it’s just that I wouldn’t have done it at all until I was nagged beyond all semblance of sanity. No comments please.

            So on Sunday, yes the Sabbath, my wife and I were up on that little boarded-in roof and putting on stuff called Ice and Water Shield. We got-‘er-done in a little over an hour without mishap, so far. It was a struggle, but we’re hoping for the best. However, I can’t help thinking we should have called the carpenters back.

                                                ******************

            Last week I was looking over some issues of the Tobiquer Magazine, the venerable publication from the 1970s and 1980s, and I noted all the names of people who are no longer with us, but who, at the time were active members of their communities.

            In the late 1970s I started writing for the Perth-based Victoria County Record and one of the assignments I had (The late Mary Jane Savoy was editor at the time) was covering Perth-Andover council meetings. Burpee Wagner (still going strong) was mayor and presided over some feisty meetings. At some point in my early newspaper career, Richard Jamer and Rusty Matheson were on the council at the same time and didn’t they  have fun!

            I doubt if they hated each either, but they sure had some mighty battles. I couldn’t wait to attend those council meetings to see the fur fly. Other councillors who added a lot to the interesting meetings included Susan Murchison, Jim Baird, Nancy MacCauley, Bryce Bishop, Jimmy Armstrong (Farmer Jimmy as opposed to Rich Jimmy), and Bud Doherty.

            When I was out west, I knew several World War I veterans, but I only knew one in Victoria County. Harold Gallop (I think that was his name) lived in or near Arthurette and I found him an unusual man in that he would talk a bit about the war. Not much, but a bit.

            Nowadays, in 2020, there are very few World War II veterans left and I don’t know any Korean War veterans. I know several Vietnam War veterans and I know the parents of Aaron Williams, who was killed in Afghanistan.

            It’s really quite amazing to see that so many people I used to know are no longer here, including my brother Lawrence, who died in April. He was quite possibly the best guitar player I ever knew, and played the fiddle like a sonofagun. His name is on the rolls of the New Brunswick Country Music Hall of Fame and he deserved to have it there.

                                                                 -end-