Chapter 24

I awoke with the winter sun sliding through my window. It was about 7:45AM. I was not looking forward to that particular day. I had to finish moving the sprouts from the small hot house. They had to be moved to, and replanted into, the larger green house.

The smaller Cub tractor would pull the small farm trailer up the sight incline. Almost everything I owned in those days was a miniature light weight model of a full sized farm tool. Most of the farm equipment had been either been built for me special, or rebuilt by me in a miniature version. Some of it had been built by me from scratch.

That particular trailer would carry several grow trays at a time. I got all the carrots, onions, and squash plants moved the day before. The tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers, more onions, and radishes were due to be moved that day. It was just a lot of work to replant the garden, just to do it all again a few weeks from that day.

Not only that, I was getting calls about turning small plots of urban gardens. I had no problem putting the larger cub cadet to work breaking ground for an urban garden. Those usually went into the rear of a customer’s home. It gave them a chance to play farmer. I understood their need to feel connected to something. Most people didn’t feel that need, and I understood their feelings as well. Hell I was beginning to understand different ways of life. I still hadn’t managed the student radical version, or the radical Christians thinking, but I was a work in progress.

I was one of the dinosaurs who believe one should work for their money. There was always something legal or illegal which could be done. Did I believe in the safety net? Hell yes, but I also believed there were those who abused the safety net and ruined it for their neighbors. The Peace Haven Apartments were not designed for those who had abused the system all their lives. If someone came into the office with an entitled attitude, we were suddenly full.

Of course June had her favorites. They usually were the ones with a verifiable sob story. Those like Michael for instance. He was a resident who could do for himself, and would help an old lady into the van. Why he didn’t drive himself. I had no idea why. He certainly was physically capable of it. My guess was he had a DWI. It didn’t matter and I didn’t care to be honest.

I stopped by the apartments and June bug had cornered me the last evening. “Ty, you need some help with your gardening don’t you?” she asked.

“Not really bug,” I went on to explain that the plants would all be in the larger greenhouse by the end of the next day.

“So you could use some help tomorrow?” she asked.

“What’s up bug?” I asked.

“Michael is bored. He really needs to get out of here now and then. He also needs to get into alcohol rehab. There is no one better to help him than you,” Bug replied. She was very good at pleading his case.

“Tell him that the pay is ten bucks an hour, and there is absolutely no alcohol allowed period. You can explain why,” I suggested. I went along with it because I could get the plants into the green house for sure with some help, even if he didn’t know shit about farming.

That is why when the Peace Haven van drove up at eight, I wasn’t running for the shotgun. Instead I greeted the two of them. “Michael have you had breakfast yet?”

“No sir,” he said.

“Don’t call me Sir I work with my hands for a living. You can all me, Ty or Tyler,” I said.

“June do you remember how to cook?” I asked.

“Oh alright,” she said with a sneer.

She scrambled the last of my eggs from a neighbor’s hen house. It had been a deal for plowing and then dragging his garden space. He would be trading more when the garden plants were ready to leave the green house on May first, more or less. That neighbor and his wife were helping me revive the almost dead sense of community. The bacon, which June burned, came from the grocery store. The community farms were not self sufficient yet.

After breakfast Michael and I did the dishes. June supervised and Michael and I just smiled at her advice. When she left Michael walked to the hot house with his cane. I noticed that he hung his came on a table and began loading the trays onto the trailer.

“Why don’t you drive the Cubby up to the greenhouse. I’ll meet you up there,” I suggested. I piled the cut down gardening tools into a five gallon plastic bucket from home depot. Michael had sweated through his heavy shirt. He sweated as only a drunk working off last nights alcohol did. I recognized it since I had done the same more than once in my life. I waited for it to happen and of course about ten in the morning he lost the breakfast June had cooked. It was obvious that Michael wasn’t faking his drinking problem.

“When is the last time you drove a car,” I asked him when he came back inside from throwing up.

“In Afghanistan,” he said hanging his head.

“Were you driving the day you lost your leg?” I asked.

“Yep my leg. My sergeant, and our gunner lost their lives,” he said. “The damn thing rolled over.”

“So how are the nightmares and the sweats,” I asked.

“They are bad, but the ‘daymares’ are worse,” he said.

“Yeah I remember. Trust me they get better,” I said.

“Oh yeah, what’s the secret?” he asked.

“Don’t be afraid of them, just welcome them. At least that worked for me,” I said.

“But first, I have to get off the booze?” he suggested.

“It took me three years inside to do it, but a lot of guys and girls do it with AA. I think I would have preferred it,” I said with a smile. “So how old are you?”

“Twenty eight,” he said.

“You seem older.” I commented

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he said smiling.

We broke for lunch and I drove to the FCX to get some liquid plant food. Yeah, the giant sized bottle of generic Miracle Grow. The plan was after lunch we would mix it with the compost pile dirt and then old soil before I planted my next seeds. Michael didn’t have to know they were my seeds for the next round of product. I was planning to plant them in the sprouting beds of the hot house.