Relative Something

It is the middle of our 4th day and we have just returned to the farm with the grape-press borrowed from Carlos. While talking with Carlos about it, Ian learns we need to paint over any exposed metal that might contaminate the juice of the grapes. We make another run to town, first to check at Carlos’ service station to see if he had any leftover paint, then, when he doesn’t find any, to buy what we need. I get to experience the hardware store, which has a tiny space for customers just inside the door, and a service counter surrounded by a wide variety of merchandise. There are also a fair amount of products displayed on the sidewalk in front of the door. The store receives a steady stream of business, before and after our transaction.

I supervise Ian’s painting efforts and then we pause for lunch. It is possible that it was the other way around, as by day’s end, I’m finding I’ve lost confidence in my recollection of the chronology. The day just flies by and we move from one thing to another without much pause, though it never seems unreasonable or rushed. In fact, all the activity unfolds at a very comfortable pace, and Ian is always very pleasant and talkative. Lunch was pot roast that turned out pretty much as Cyndie had intended. She was relieved, since she had selected an unknown cut of meat and was cooking with whatever she happened to discover in their kitchen. I never doubted her for a minute.

After the grape press is painted, Cyndie receives further instructions from Ian on caring for the horses. She is planning on moving them down to the bottom field. Ian and I set off to cut the growth that has consumed the area around the spring on the far side of the property. It is a tremendous task, as the thicket of “bramble” climbs twice as high as we are tall. The cutting process covers me with dust from the shredded dead, dry stalks and I look quite a sight. Ian tells me that if Victoria saw me she would be upset with him for letting me get into such messy work. We finally find the old spring, but it is not clear what state it is in. It may need some digging out, or it could be low due to the dry spell currently happening. Either way, it is a treasure we have unveiled.

The brush cutter I was using was working fine until it ran out of gas. After I filled it, we were back to the old problem of the engine balking when I would give it gas. We get it to run just enough for me to try again, while attempting to keep the blade spinning at a pretty high RPM. When it kills on me again, we decide to call it a day. We are left with just a small portion unfinished. After we drop off the cutting machines in the tool room, Ian and I head down to the bottom field to bring up the horses. He walks Lucy, allowing Frida to follow on her own. Just like the day before, I wait 5 minutes and then open the gate and let Doll and Sebastian head up on their own. Then I walk into the field and pick up Cyndie’s book, reading glasses, and the chair she had been sitting in this afternoon while the horses grazed.

Our work fills daylight everyday and we end up eating the evening meal around 8 or 9 at night. I delay dinner this night, as I take a while to shower and free myself of the day’s accumulated grime. The dusty work has irritated my eyes and filled my lungs. It is both wonderful and a bit miserable. Cyndie made a pizza in a glass baking pan and has also baked ginger cookies. (All this, while also tending to the horses!) We explore our differences over calling them biscuits or cookies, and Ian marvels that she prepared both soft and crisp versions to offer.

After dinner and dish duty, we head to our cottage. Cyndie showered while I logged on to the internet and sent a couple of emails, made my weekly NFL football picks, and posted some images and descriptions to Ian’s LifeStory on our Brainstorms  virtual community. We don’t end up getting to sleep until almost midnight. We are having so much fun, we’d probably skip sleeping, except all the activity is enough to guarantee our bodies will claim a full night’s rest.