Chapter 62
Dad and Mitch both had gotten their second wind. It wasn’t late, just dark as it tends to get later in the year, so I filled them in. When I got to what I’d been doing while he was away Mitch said, “That was a lot of work Nann. Part of me has known it would be but … I’m sorry you had to do it by yourself.”
I shrugged nonchalantly while secretly pleased that he acknowledged how much work I’d been doing. “Well I wasn’t going to let everything go to waste. And I needed something to do with my time besides talk to the animals.”
They both snorted as they thought I was exaggerating and making a joke. I’d have to explain to Mitch how much it wasn’t a joke, but not until after Dad left and that was going to be day after tomorrow. He only had a three-day pass and was dependent on (required to) having the military as an escort. They’d be finished with their “environmental review” and sample-taking at the two crash sites by then.
“Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“It would be better if you took dried apples instead of fresh. They’ll be lighter and take up less room. I can bag you up some fresh for traveling but I’ve heard the soldiers talk about how rough the roads are since they aren’t really being maintained right now.”
“I still say you and Mitch might need …”
Mitch stepped in when he could see I was getting frustrated having to repeat myself. “No Sir. Nann and I have been working this entire time for the family. We still are and will continue to do so. Next year we might need to figure out something, especially if I can’t get crops in the field and/or the government lifts its tax moratorium for the Buffer Zones. But this year, let us do what we planned, even if it isn’t the way we’d planned.”
From Mitch he could accept it. Fine. I’d run into that kind of testosterone poisoning my entire life, not like a war was going to stop it.
I explained what I’d been doing with the apples first. “Well you can see the cauldron of apple butter. We’ll have some at breakfast and you can taste test it. I’ve been using the apple press when the dryhouse was full. And it has saved some on feed.”
“Who all did you give the pulp too?” Mitch asked.
“Only the cows get what comes out of the apple press. The chickens and hogs get the peels when I slice them for drying. The cores go into the compost.”
Mitch leaned back. He didn’t say anything but I knew he’d been worried I was feeding the apple cores and seeds to the other animals. I let it go. He’d see me in action soon enough. All I did was add, “Do you want to take any cider with you Dad?”
“Better not because you’re right. The roads are bad. Anything breakable we are going to have to be real careful to pack tight. The apple trees where we are haven’t been too bad but they’re only the yellow kind. I do miss the variety that Uncle Hy planted.”
“I still want to send you back with some fresh apples. Grammy’s banana apples did really well this year, maybe some of them will keep for the road.”
“Those ol’ trees? I’m surprised they’re still amongst the living.”
“Uncle Hy found a source for them and had been planting a new row every year,” I explained. “Same for the Granny Smith’s. And most of the quince trees made as well except for one that had the fruit knocked off in that windstorm. Remember it Mitch?”
“How could I forget. I had to nail the wind vane back on the barn.”
Still thinking what could go and what we’d need to keep I said, “Dad? I’m not sure how many dried beans we can send back. We have to keep back seed and beans that I’m going to need over the winter.”
“Honey, like I said, anything is better than what I was expecting. I saw all the okra you have strung up. Did you have a bumper crop?”
“Just the opposite,” I said. Mitch seemed content to let me do the talking. “I barely got half a peck to eat fresh. Certainly not enough to can. What you see is what I’m drying to make sure to have seed for next year. How are peanuts up where you are at?”
“None to speak of. The legumes that were planted was mostly to turn under and put nitrogen back in the ground for planting. From reading what I’ve been able to lay my hands on, they should be able to plant peanuts in that area, they just don’t. They plant mostly soy beans, corn, and winter wheat.”
I looked at Mitch and he at me. When he realized I was trying to tell him that there were a bunch more than what were in the cellar he nodded.
He asked me, “How many you think?”
“Two hundred.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Mitch turned to say, “You’ll take two hundred pounds of peanuts back with you.” After another quick look at me he added, “Try and hold some back and see if them Mennonites want to try a small field of them.”
“Now really. If I take all that you’ll have none.”
Throwing Dad off the scent I said, “I had to tuck them in the silo.”
Dad stopped. “In the silo?”
I did in fact have some peanuts in there because I’d run out of storage bags. “Yes Sir. I wasn’t sure of putting them in the cellar until I finished moving the stuff into the root cellar. You saw all the winter squash and pumpkins I have upstairs on the floors.”
Finally he nodded. “Fine. The peanuts and the dried apples.”
“I’ll bag up some of the other dried fruit and label it for Mom.”
“Now hold on here …”
I laughed, “Trust me Dad, the forest grocery store has provided well this year. Autumn olive berries, hawthorne berries, firethorn berries, lingonberries, highbush cranberries, and that doesn’t include the stuff that came in earlier in the year like the wild blackberries and blueberries. If it bothers you, I’ll go out and grab some persimmons and pawpaws to dry in the oven to show you we aren’t hurting. I’ll also send some dried mushrooms home … with instructions on how to use them if Mom doesn’t know. If I can figure out a way, I’m gonna send some muscadines to Mom. I’ll send some fox grapes maybe too if the deer haven’t gotten to the ones I’m thinking of. I’ll also send some powdered sumac so she can have something lemony in her tea.”
“Dump, Sugar, you know the last time we’ve seen tea?”
I looked at Dad then looked at Mitch who looked at Dad who said, “What?”
“Don’t you do what Nann does? You know, herbal teas?”
He gave me a look and then said, “You’re going to need to write it down or your mother won’t believe me. We’re drinking acorn coffee and whatever else we can come up with now that the milch cow we have the use of has gone dry.”
“Do you cut it with Dandelion root?”
He just looked at me and said again, “Write it down.” He said it again about the wintergreen, chickweed, spicebush, and some of the “teas” I made up for him to take to Mom. When I asked if he thought they could use some potatoes and sweet potatoes I thought his eyes were going to roll back.
“Dad?”
“Dump. Baby girl. Your mother was wondering where she was going to come up with the slips to have a garden with come spring. The potatoes have all been eaten, both Irish and Sweet. Even the Mennonites got into their seed potatoes.”
Mitch asked, “How are you on flour and cornmeal?”
“Those we have though it was a fight to keep it. School superintendent tried to start something, demanding “forward payment” from the farmers. Claimed it was for the children. Military put an end to it and said people could sign up for commodities, but they’d have to work a certain number of hours a week in exchange. People didn’t want to work for it, were surprised they were even being asked to.”
Mitch said, “Didn’t sound like they were being asked. Sounds like they were being told.”
Dad nodded. “That’s about right Son. Most of us have flour and cornmeal hidden in in the houses just in case they think about trying it again. It was too dangerous to leave it in the silos. How have you been doing.”
I let Mitch say what he wanted to. “We’ve been getting by.”
“You telling me the truth Son?”
“We’ll do alright now that I’m back and can help get the Indian Corn in. Dad always had some of it ground for Grammy. We’ll figure something out.”
“I’ve got the old grinder,” I told him absentmindedly. Then I looked ad Dad and asked, “What would or could your people trade for?”
“Sweeteners. Seasonings. Tea. Coffee. Chocolate is a big one people think they need but when it does come on the market most people start realizing it is just a want. That and coffee can sometimes be found but it gets sold by the quarter cup and is very expensive.”
I looked at Mitch and I could see his brain was already turning. I let the two men have their conversation and went over to stir the apple butter and seeing that it was finished I moved it to the back of the stove. I was going to put this batch in crocks and see if I could save it the old fashioned way that I found in Grammy’s books.
“Nann?”
“Hmm?”
“If that’s finished let’s get some sleep. Uncle John and I have some talking to do tomorrow. What are you going to be up to?”
“Well I’m not going far but first thing in the morning I need to cut some collards and turnip greens and get them cooked for lunch and dinner. What doesn’t get eaten I’m going to can. I also want to get some hen of the wood mushrooms as well. And I’ll see if Dan and Amy can help pick up some honey locust pods. I have something I want to experiment with those things.”
“Mmmm. Sounds good. But don’t go too far. We’ll need you to piece things out of the storage and get it packaged for travel.”
Dad looked at the two of us and seemed well pleased. His comment about us working like two birds building a nest isn’t really far off the mark.
I nodded to Mitch but was also thinking what else I needed to do. I’m going to put some of the Asian pears with the apples, and that I’ll see how many dried beets I have and if they’ll be worth sending. So much to do and so little time before Dad had to leave. I also needed to write things down for Mom, send a letter to everyone, figure out some way to tell Dale that everything is going to work out, maybe write a note to that Pauline, and just a ton of things. Including seeing if I can afford to send Mom some seeds for their garden or if it will make us short. As much as I would like to it might be better in the long run if I keep the seeds and just grow things here for them to come get on another trip.
Those were the things that needed to be done. But all I wanted was to sit with my Dad and Mitch and hear all that I’d missed and just … look at them and believe they were finally here. And not think about Dad leaving, or missing getting to see the others. Not worry about whether saying goodbye to Dad meant saying goodbye forever.