Рита Браун: Pawing Through The Past

The pile of weeds grew to a mound.

"Better toss this before it gets too heavy." Harry lifted the pitchfork, wedged it under, and in one neat motion picked up the debris. She walked past to the compost pile some distance from the manure spreader.

"Dump it on the manure spreader," Murphy suggested.

"You don't have to come along," Harry replied to her cat, who she thought was complaining. She walked to the edge of the woods, where she chucked the weeds. Murphy caught up with her.

"If you'd put it in the manure spreader, Harry, it would have been a lot easier."

Harry leaned on her pitchfork and looked out over the hay field. The bees were heading back to the hives as twilight deepened. Even the nasty brilliant yellow digger bees headed to their labyrinthine underground nests. The bats stirred overhead, consuming insects.

"Farmer's friend," Harry said. "Did you know, Mrs. Murphy, that bats, black snakes, praying mantis, and owls are some of the best partners you can have among the wild animals?"

"I did. I forgot to tell you that the black snake that winters in the loft is now close to four and a half feet long and she's on the south side of the garden. Her hunting territory is a giant circle and she moves counterclockwise. The sight of her is a fright. 'Course, the sight of Flatface, the barn owl, is a fright, too. She's grown twice as tall as last year. Thinks she's better than the rest of us."

Harry reached down, picked up her little friend, and kissed the top of her head. "You are the most wonderful cat in the world. Have I told you that lately?"

"Thank you," Murphy purred, then wiggled to get down. The night creatures emerging were too tempting. She wanted to stalk a few.

Harry grabbed the pitchfork which she'd propped against a hickory: "Come on, time for supper."

The sweet smell of redbud clover filled their nostrils as the thin line of ground fog turned from seashell pink to mauve to pearl gray. A bobwhite called behind them. The magnificent owl of whom Mrs. Murphy had just spoken flew out from the barn cupola on her first foraging mission of the evening.

Part of the rhythm of this place and these animals, Harry placed the pitchfork on the wall of the small storage shed. The night air cooled the temperature considerably. She put her hands in her jeans pockets as she hurried into the house.

"What took you so long?" Pewter complained. "I thought you two were weeding the garden."

"We did but we had things to talk about." Mrs. Murphy brushed past her, then quickly turned as she heard the can opener. "Hope it's tuna tonight. I'm in the mood for tuna."

A bark outside and then a whap on the doggie door announced Tucker's presence.

"Where were you?" Mrs. Murphy asked from the counter as Harry spooned out the tuna into the two cat dishes, one marked Her Highness and the other, Upholstery Destroyer.

"Blair Bainbridge's." The dog mentioned Harry's nearest neighbor to the west. "Bought starter cattle and I had to help him herd them. He doesn't know beans and he's still moving a little slow after his injuries from last year. Wait until you see the calves. Weedy, spindly legs and thin chests, not good specimens at all but at least they've been wormed and had their shots. Wait until Mom sees them. It will be interesting to see how she manages to praise him without telling him these are the worst heifers she's ever seen."

"She'll find a way."

"Tucker. You've been busy. You're getting lamb bits in gravy." Pewter sniffed the distinctive mutton aroma.

"Yeah!"

As the three ate, Harry popped a pasta dish in the microwave. She wasn't very hungry but she ate it anyway since she had a tendency to lose weight in the summers.

Afterward they all sat on the sofa while Harry tried to read the newspaper but she kept rattling it, then putting it down. Finally, she got up, threw on her jacket, and walked outside.

"What's she up to?" Pewter, quite comfortable, wondered.

"I'll go." Tucker roused herself and followed.

"Me, too." Murphy shook herself.

"Damn," Pewter grumbled. She flicked her tail over her gray nose, finally got up to stretch, and tagged along.

Harry walked to the paddocks behind the barn, where she leaned against the black three-board fence to watch her horses, Gin Fizz, Tomahawk, and Poptart, enjoying the refreshing air.

They looked up, said hello, and returned to grazing.

Overhead the evening star appeared unreal, it was so big and clear. The Big Dipper rolled toward the horizon andYellowMountain was outlined in a thin band of blue, lighter than the deep skies.

"Kids, I couldn't live anywhere else. I know I work fourteen to sixteen hours a day between the post office and the farm, but I couldn't work in an office. I don't know. . . ." Her voice trailed off. Pewter climbed up one fence post, Mrs. Murphy climbed up on another one while Tucker patiently sat on Harry's foot. "I kind of dread this reunion. I went to the fifteenth-still married then. It's a lot easier when you're married-socially, I mean. The ones from far away will look at me, then look at BoomBoom. I guess it's pretty easy to see why Fair hopped on her in a hurry. Wonder if he'll come? He was in the class ahead. But of course he will, he knows everybody. He's a good man, guys. He went through a bad patch, that's all, but I couldn't endure it. I just couldn't do it."

"He's over that now," Tucker stoutly replied. The corgi loved Fair Haristeen, DVM, with all her heart and soul. "He's admitted he was wrong. He still loves you."

"But she doesn't love him." Pewter licked her paw and rapidly passed it over her whiskers.

"She does love him," Mrs. Murphy countered, "but she doesn't know how much or in what way. Like she wouldn't want to marry him again but she loves him as a person."

"It's awfully confusing." Tucker's pretty ears drooped.

"Humans make such a mess," Pewter airily announced.

"They think too much and feel too little," Murphy noted. "Even Mom and I love her, we all love her. It's the curse of the species. Then again I sometimes reverse that and believe they feel too much and don't think enough. Now I'm confused." She laughed at herself.

"You all have so much to say tonight." Harry smiled at her family, then continued her musings. "I watch television sometimes. You know, the sitcoms. Apart from being the same age, I have nothing in common with those people. They live in beautiful apartments in big cities. They have great clothes and no one worries about money. They're witty and cool. A drought means nothing to them. Overseeding is a foreign word. They drive sexy cars while I drive a 1978 Ford half-ton truck. My generation is all those things that I am not." She frowned. "Not too many of us live in the country anymore. The old ways are being lost and I suppose I'll be lost with them but-I can't live any other way." She kicked the dewy grass. "Damn, why did I get so involved in this reunion? I am such a sucker!" She turned on her heel to go back to the house.

Mrs. Murphy gracefully leapt off the post while Pewter turned around to back down. No need to jar her bones if it wasn't absolutely necessary. Tucker stayed at her mother's left heel.