Broken Backs and Plastic Sacks

A cloudy and a breezy day. Light rainfall blew over after the sunset. Temperature was in the mid 50Fs.


There were some problems with the feed corn over the weekend. The boss's brother decided to harvest it too early, the kernels hadn't fully dried out on the stalk yet (it was a tough call, with the rough weather-- birds and mold were chewing up the crop). Unfortunately that meant the feed corn was in a prime position to mold/rot in its holding bin. So over the weekend the boss called Stretch in (one of the high school guys from over the summer-- a good fella), they laid tarps over the greenhouse floor and poured out the corn to dry in the sun. The plan is working pretty well so far, we just have to periodically rake around the mound in order for it to dry evenly.

We started the day cleaning up all the greenhouse junk they'd piled up to make room for the corn. Pesticides and extra fertilizer went down in the barn, the rest of the junk was shifted around into some sense of order. It was time to get out to the forest field and deal with the plastic. Eight rows were left.

Newport and I decided to start double teaming the rows-- things went much faster, as we pushed each other along. Newport spent the weekend down in the city celebrating his sister's 30th birthday. The whole family was there, his sister's girlfriend and everyone. Newport and his mother stayed in a robot hotel-- 1 or 2 "human" staff for the whole building, everything was handled by machines-- from baggage to cleaning to check-in/out. They rented out a karaoke parlor and drank the night away. We ripped away at the rows, chatting as we went-- but speed was everything. We were ready to be done for good with all this wrap-rubbish. Four and a half rows left at lunch time.


After lunch we returned up to the forest field-- and hit it hard. There would not be another day of plastic work. I entered some sort of fugue state (like last time) and ripped the hell out of that field. Newport called me the Plastic King. The foreman whittled away on the half row. Newport and I burned through the other 4. The sun was nearly set and dark clouds rolled over, but the work was done. This daylight savings roll back is terrible-- sun was set by 4:30.

The boss was gone when we returned to the store. We continued cleaning around the yard and greenhouse until he returned-- taking long cigarette sit downs and resting weary backs. The boss waved us down to the greenhouse and we cleared out all the wooden-pallet stacks. The corn is taking up most of the available space, but we need to set up for tomorrow-- wreath making. Orders are already coming in, so tomorrow we begin cutting and weaving. The boss apparently has a bunch of Scott pines planted somewhere on the property-- we'll hack a few down, cut the branches and get creative. I'm left wondering when my season is over-- half of me wants to move on to the next thing (winter and cities), the other half shuts up/is happy to still have paying work.

Who knows where it ends-- I don't-- and I have a sneaking suspicion that the boss doesn't either.


Take it easy.