Fade in to a mildly disgruntled Corey wandering down through the farm, raking leaves out from under trees and bushes from their entwined positions around sticks and plants and rocks. In my opinion the leaves harbored no desire to move. And why would they? Protected from the sun, lawnmower and any sort of animal that would see them as food, their position in life couldn't have been better. Well, except for the decomposition. And worms and other small critters munching on them. Still. Relocating decomposing foliage from their resting places did not cause the festerment. No. A well laid ruse prolonged the work day and kept our heroes from their afternoon of sloth.
Starting early in the morning all four of us on the farm started picking coffee, beginning at the bottom of the farm and stumbling our way to the upper fence line. I enjoy picking. It relaxes and can be meditative, until an unseen or loose or grabby rock sends a mislaid foot awry. Or branches slap into your face. Or spiders, which weave elaborate webs between trees, leap onto you in protest at your innocent destruction of their traps.
This is all beside the point. All morning we picked, me assuming that the end of picking would be the end of our work day, as has been the case in the past. Four and 0.5 hours and 160+ lbs. of cherry later I prepped for a shower, snack and possibly a nap. Instead ML asked us to help load a couple piles of downed monstera into the pickup so that she could haul it down to the dump. Since we'd cut it (Candace cut it, really. Turns out it has similar chemical properties to poison oak, to which I'm allergic. If I didn't mind little watery blisters that itch like hell and spread entirely too easily to all parts of my body-all parts-then I'd have help cut it.) the day before how could we say no? A little foresight and maybe I'd have run. During the year, poor ML gets no help around the farm. As a result she's entered a state of frantic panic to get as much help as she can before we leave and she is left with maintaining the entire place. Unfortunately for all, our time is limited (and dwindling way too rapidly) and work is not our priority.
As the monstera rained into the truck bed, ML ducked over to the side of the 1/4 mile driveway which is lined with the fast-growing plant and began to cut more. A few minutes after her cutting started, when I tried to load more into the truck she yelled me away from it and told me that instead I could get the leaf blower and blow all the leaves out from alongside the driveway and haul them across the orchard and dump them in the pasture with the cows. My eyes goggled and all I could utter was: "Um. Ok." The whine: "But I don't want to work anymore," stuck on my craw. Off the good Little Slave trundled.
For maybe an hour and a half I wrestled plants and the rake (the leaf blower is totally ineffective because of the underbrush and debris), making piles, dumping the piles into a tarp which I emptied into the pasture. The C and ML ran off to the dump and came back with smoothies. Thinking our day over, I rushed to finish my last pile before my smoothie melted. When ML began gathering more leaves and pruning everything in reach I choked. And wandered off with another load before the curses on my tongue could escape into the air.
At the wall I dumped my leaves and looked at the cows lounging under the trees. Like clouds scudding out of sight before a strong breeze my dark mood lifted as a tremendous idea came to mind. Without thinking I mounted the lava rock wall which of course collapsed under and on top of me. Fortunately all the large boulders banged off of me and continued on downhill leaving me a little bruised but unpinned. Key. The cows blinked.
Keeping in mind what I learned about bull fighting from James Michener's "Mexico" I bowed low (hehe) to the cows before hoisting my blue tarp cape. "Heaahhh!" I yelled while advancing with the mincing steps I imagine a true torrero takes. Beside me the blue tarp weaved and flapped and sometimes got hung up on the pointy rocks, tearing holes because of my energetic waving. Nothing. All three continued cud chewing, casting bored/dumb looks at me. I paused and wiped sweat from my eyes. Again I advanced. Down on the highway (100 yards away) a pickup full of locals cruised past, the bass drawing the cows' eyes away from me. Two of the guys in the truck yelled out encouragement. I think. I heard "Something something haole something."
"Yah! A sus pies! Lúcheme!"
Finally Lucy lumbered to her feet, raising her hindquarters and then lurching up and straightening her fronts. She began to plunk towards me and I'll admit, my nerves may have wavered as I took in her size: feet the size of dinner plates, head like the uprooted stump of a 100-year or ficus tree and a body the size of...a cow. Cows are not small, let me remind you.
After a quaver or two I picked up my tarp, straightened and held it straight out from my right side. "Ole!" came a bit prematurely. Instead of sweeping past while I gracefully twirled the cape over her head she stopped in front of me. Unsure what to do I lowered my arms and said hello. In a flash a wad of cud hit me in the face and before I could wipe it away her woolly horn-less head came in from the side and knocked me over. Afeared of her sharp hooves I rolled and scrabbled blindly until the wall hit my forehead. Hearing nothing resembling a stampede I wiped my eyes clear and looked to check on my adversary. There she lay, back under her tree, chewing her cud and playing the innocent.
As I crossed back over the wall I created another rockslide 5 feet over from the first. I made a hasty repair of both to keep the cows in (and to avoid having to explain how the holes through which they escaped came into being) and walked back up to the ladies.
"Where is your cape," Candace asked.
"What happened? Your pants are torn and what is that black stuff on your face?" ML offered.
I grunted, tossed a dismissing wave at them and walked on. My clothes made a trail towards the edge of the pool into which I tossed myself, rubbing off the shame and pain and black cud.
That smoothie was warm by the time I drank it.
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