Prolific: Farm Life Multiplied

Perhaps life doesn't ever get better or worse, it's just we trade one inconvenience for another?

My cheapest option was a sublet apartment since a classmate of mine wasn't using it over the summer and let me stay there free. The catch was, I'd have to get out by August 1st, 3 weeks before the dorms opened.

I REALLY didn't want to be in the dorms. Loud drunk people? I'd had a lifetime of that already and Murphy Hall had spoiled me on the Beauty of Quiet. I'm not saying Murphy was silent - but it didn't have alcohol-fueled yelling, puking, fights, and golf in the hallways (etc.), all things I wanted to avoid.

My other problem was I had an honors thesis to do. By hours, I could have graduated already (I loaded up on courses), but my idealistic "I'll major in everything" idea meant I had work done in several majors but no graduation requirements done for any of them. I wanted a Ph.D., but my advisor said I'd better Finish Something first, and if I wanted Summa Cum Laude, I'd need to do an honors thesis.

Plus, he said, I'd need thesis-writing practice for getting a Master's. This was part of him trying to downplay my Ph.D. idea and just get me to finish something. I didn't really understand his perspective, I wasn't ready for it yet, but I do get it now.

At the time, my honors thesis idea (from biochem origins) was to grow seeds trapped in old horse poop and compare them to normal examples (i.e., straight off the plant).

I mention this because I had two items on my mind the day I visited the biology department office: an apartment, and horse poop.

I'd gotten to know the secretary well pretty well, and from overhearing what she dealt with day-to-day, I figured she was seriously plugged into what was happening around campus.

She had some suggestions for apartments that I already knew, but when I mentioned needing horse poop, her face slowly dawned into a nostalgic look.

"Oh, ho, now, wait a minute... Now, that one, yeah, maybe... So, when I was little, my sister and I took riding lessons at this farm - __amazing__ place, by the way - and they, THEY, would have horse poop! I shoveled some of it..." She thought for a moment, remembering, "And... Yeah, for gosh sakes, I even know her number! I had to call it enough, to reschedule lessons. Hold on..."

She picked up the phone and dialed, grinning her ass off like this was a personal triumph. Punching a button turned on a box on her desk that made it into a speaker-phone, so I could hear, too.

The phone rang, 3 or 4 times at least, and finally, an old lady answered with a weak, "Hello?"

"Hello! Is this Agnes Frugalt? This is Gabriella Sangheim, Gabby... You may remember me?"

There was a pause and she said, kind of irritated, "Gabby. Yes. The stables are closed now." The way the last bit came out, it was like she was done with the conversation, even.

"Oh, that's fine, Mrs. Frugalt, I have another question. I'm the biology department secretary at the college, and a student is here with me. He needs some samples of horse manure, really old stuff if he can get it. Older the better, he says, for an experiment."

I hadn't quite said this, but Gabby was Good At This.

"Horse manure? He wants old horse manure?"

I spoke up to confirm, "Yes, uh, Mrs. Frugalt? My name is Kevin Kuiper. I need it old, because I'm trying to grow seeds that have been through the horse, and see if they changed or grow faster? Especially if they are older seeds? I suspect the manure makes the seeds better." I paused, then added, "And, I only need a few samples? I wouldn't be much trouble, just get some and leave."

Mrs. Frugalt cleared her throat in a semi-assertive way. "Well now. Gabby, how well do you know him? If you like him, tell me about the picture you drew me that I had on my fridge for years and years, and if you don't, lie."

Gabby's face got a huge joyous smile and she said, "A giraffe-unicorn! You kept that?"

"Certainly, dear." She cleared her throat. "Let me be... clear, I think. I am in a lot of pain these days, and it's not... good. I could use some help here, and if he wants to trade the poop for some housework - changing light bulbs, un-sticking some windows? I'd make him lunch, too. Giant house gets lonely."

Gabby turned and pointed to my chest, mouthing silently, "You could room there!"

I shrugged a gee-yes-why-not.

Gabby said, "Ma'am, Kevin is also looking for a place to room for the next school year, we were chatting before I called. You have a big house...?"

There was a pause, and she said, "Now, then... That is a _singular_ idea. Inspired, even. But, I don't know this gentleman, I'm not sure it would be proper. Hold on a minute, let me think."

Her voice sounded like she was in charge of everything, so we waited.

"Here goes. Mr. Kuiper?"

"Ma'am?"

"You would do tasks for me, and light cleaning, mow the lawn, paint maybe, get the mail, odd jobs like that. Plus, you'd help me get up in the morning, or help me if I fall down, you know. In exchange, I'd let you live here, free of charge. I would throw in meals, too, since cooking for two is the same as one. But, there _would_ be chores. This is a farm, and I'm.. not able to, anymore."

We talked back and forth about how many hours a week that would be, and she told me to come by in two days, in the morning promptly at 8 am, and gave me the address.

When we hung up, Gabby looked triumphant and gave a little happy-shimmy with her head. "I did a good thing!"

I thanked Gabby, and she even got up from her desk and gave me a hug. I think talking with someone she'd loved as a kid put her in a good mood.

The only problem was getting there. I only had a bicycle.

== Chapter: The Farm ==

I didn't own a car and had no license, and the city map in the phone book said it was six miles from my place to hers. That was a half-hour of bike time, and I knew I'd have another six miles to get home again.

Compared to cross country, and it wasn't a race, that wasn't so bad. Still, thinking about the commute to campus, once it snowed I might have a problem.

Still, free rent and food was hard to pass up. Plus, I could probably get a small moped, just to the closest bus stop. If she wasn't charging me rent, I could afford moped-gas.

The address was easy to find on a country road, numbers on the mailbox. I got there 20 minutes early since I didn't really know if there'd be complications, and my map was the fold-out one in the phone book.

The place was beautiful!

The two- or three-car wide gravel lane was tree-lined, curving up the hill, with massive ancient trunks and high overhanging branches that kind of made a country-highway tunnel. Thick evergreens along the front screened any view from the street, but once I'd started up the curved lane I could see between the big trunks to intermittent lawn.

Wide-spread rows of different kinds of fruit trees tightly filled the 'front yard' despite the fact that I just kept going and there kept being more of it.

Between some of the trees were walking paths, and along those and at intervals someone had taken time to plant perennial flower beds, though there was just a ton of weeds around them. I knew with just a little work, the place would be amazing, but even without being cared for it was obvious at one point the place had a lot of work done.

(As an aside, the full cherry trees in front intrigued me. I knew about cherry trees. In elementary school I'd climbed one in a backyard and gotten caught by an old man who yelled for me to come down carefully and get the hell out. Once I was almost down, he got nicer and told me I could do that more if I gave him some and used a ladder safely. I just ran away as fast as I could. I was ashamed of stealing. I was ashamed of a lot of things.)

Coming out from the curve way 100 yards/meters deep in the property, I came to a large and mostly clear (of weeds) parking / turnaround area with various farm buildings, each surrounded by untended, overgrown, junk-strewn ground. What wasn't clear had tall weeds, but despite being overgrown the parking area extended out between the barns and house.

On my left and up a slight hill was a sprawling Victorian-looking farmhouse that could have been a castle for as wide as it was. Maybe it wasn't deep and I was just looking at it broadside (trees surrounded), but (despite a run-down and added-on-to appearance) the term 'mansion' was certainly more applicable than 'house'.

To the right of it and slightly back, attached to it in a way that joined the screened-in porches between all three, were two different double-wide mobile-home-like additions. These were obviously far newer and tacked on, but still, I could see concrete foundations with windows. They weren't cheap like mobile homes (and I'd seen and lived in those).

Really, looking at them, I thought, hey, those'd be nice with a coat of paint.

Across the gravel was the tallest building, an immense formerly-red barn, its paint mostly gone except for a large circular patchwork-emblem painted on the end near the peak.

Next to the barn was a tin-roofed brick shop building with some garage doors on the front, and down from that, another vast tin-roofed tin-sided outbuilding that was big enough for several tractors at least.

On the other side of the red barn and past some obscuring brush and trees, what looked like the front of an industrial (huge, long) chicken house, but I couldn't be sure since it was far away.

ALL of it needed paint, repairs, and cleanup - LOTS of cleanup. Weeds, long grass, broken-down trees, junk, all sorts of things were piled up, against walls, in piles next to the houses, everywhere. Gutters hung from the houses, and some of the roofing looked none-too-healthy.

As I dismounted and walked my bike, I could see past the shed, down a hill, to where it looked like some stables and horse-fences lay, but again, it was thick with brush and I couldn't tell for sure.

To my right as I'd come out from the lane and now to my left facing the house, was a giant garden. It was walled off with an impressive set of machine cloth and barbed wire, and yellow-posted wires that were obviously electric.

That made me wonder why someone like Agnes had a house-garden easily twice as large as most people's entire properties.

The garden was pretty, though. Overgrown to be sure, but lots of herb plants and sunflowers, and pretty in the summer sunlight.

A soft summer breeze blew through the whole place, and it felt cool and quiet. I'd been nervous, getting there, but just standing in the midst of the quiet gently-rustling trees, that stress just Went Away. I liked it!

Parking my bike by the dilapidated low picket fence near the house, I opened the front gate as best I could. It scraped the ground and made a giant squeak, which may or may not have been functionally her doorbell.

Agnes met me at the screen door before I got there and held it open to welcome me in.

I was slightly worried but my being early didn't seem to bother her.

She was serious-faced, not happy, not sad. I guessed that having an aura of the businesslike might help her not get cheated, but her body language said she'd done vast and complicated things before, and she had a plan for most things - like what we were starting with.

She held out her hand to me and introduced herself. "Agnes. Mrs. James Frugalt, perhaps, but you can call me Agnes."

"Kevin. Kevin Kuiper."

"Yes, Mr. Kuiper, you said. Pleased to meet you. Do you take tea?"

She had a kettle on, boiling already, I could hear it. "I don't usually drink tea, ma'am, Agnes, but, I suppose..."

Two tea cups were at the table already, with place settings and cloth napkins. A stack of papers was on what was obviously her side, and I got the feeling this was a process she'd prepared for.

She motioned for me to sit, and I did.

Bringing the boiling kettle from the stove, she set it down, laboriously sat down herself, and scooted in. Her movements were obviously causing her some pain, and I wished I could help. Still, she seemed to be able to do what she wanted.

What she wanted right then was to have some tea with me. It seemed like some kind of ceremony for her, so I figured, what the heck.

Measuring out tea leaves from one container into a metal mesh holder, she put the holder in a small china teapot, then poured in a small amount of hot water. She followed this by doing the same thing but with a different tea container, a much older and ornate-looking one, to a differently shaped, small and ornate china teapot.

Her manner was very formal, and I didn't interrupt.

She spoke as she finished pouring water, "Not knowing if you took tea, Mr. Kuiper, I've prepared two kinds. My kind will undoubtedly be very bitter for you, it's medicinal and I'll spare you that. Yours is much more sedate, I can assure you."

Her motions didn't stop, though, using some silver tongs to pick out single sugar cubes from a decorated china bowl, placing one in each of our cups. As she did, she turned each cup just so. This was important to her, I could see.

Next to her was a wide cereal bowl with ice cubes. She put a small one into each of our teacups just-so as well, and said with a wry smile, "Warm day, and I don't feel like waiting for boiling water to cool."

Both with the sugar and ice cube, I could have sworn I heard her muttering something as she did that, but the whole experience was new, and I'd just gotten done with a very long bicycle ride so I was winded and actually a little thirsty.

After she moved the sugar bowl and ice bowl back to where they went on a tray, she poured out our respective cups from the respective teapots, and pushed my cup and saucer across the center of the table for me.

She took hers and looked at me, asking in a way that seemed to be both inquisitive and casually filling time, "So. What is your middle name, Mr. Kuiper?"

"Farenthold, ma'am. My mother said it was an old family name."

She half-raised an eyebrow and nodded absently as she started to sip her tea, "That it is, sir, that it is."

I took it as a sign to sip my tea, too. It felt hot, but when I actually sipped it, it seemed just lukewarm, and filled my throat with a happy warmth I'd never known before. The taste was kind of bland, slightly sweet but tea-flavored (I'd had tea before), and I suddenly just felt utterly at home.

Relaxing with it, I smiled, and noticed her watching me, sipping hers. "Good tea, sir?"

I couldn't do much but nod.

She said, "Of course it is." Pausing, she said, carefully enunciating each word, "Mid-summer day, Tea of the Arsennot, Giver of Bounties, Filler of Souls."

I was slightly confused but it seemed okay so I let it go. Old people are weird sometimes.

She looked at me and said, "Finish your teacup, then tell me no lies."

I was going to object, but the tea was good, so I drained the small cup and set it in front of me. I realized I'd shifted to sitting more formally than I normally did, but it felt like that was the right way to sit. The whole endeavor was having a very odd feel to it, one that got even more odd as the moments slipped by.

We must have waited a full minute, maybe two, just staring at our cups, silently. I was in no hurry to say anything, but the feeling of warmth and a kind of happiness was spreading through me and I realized I was happy, being there.

She said, her questioning words more of a command, "What is your real goal here today?"

"To find a place to live for the next year, possibly until I graduate."

"Will you ever steal from me?"

I shrugged, and it was like I was deciding as I talked, "I will never steal from you."

"Will you bring bounty to this farm, with love?"

Again, it was like I was deciding that something was the truth as I said it. I repeated her question back to her - it seemed proper to. "I will bring bounty to this farm, with love."

As I said it, I thought about it, and agreed even more with what I'd said. I had presumed she meant that I'd perform my assigned tasks with love, and I could do that, I was pretty sure. I hadn't been in love much before, but I could learn.

After another long pause, she looked at me and spoke clearly.

The words burned into my brain as she spoke.

"Kevin Farenthold Kuiper, I bind you and and enjoin you. You will bear love and bring bounty to this farm, and the life it contains and cossets. I free you from burdens of want. I charge you to use your gifts to make more of this life than you take from it. If you use your gifts wisely they shall never disappoint. If you misuse them, you shall ever feel their dig towards a more noble path."

After that, she started speaking in Latin, or something. I didn't understand it.

She told me to go into the 'parlor' and lie down on the 'divan' for a nap. I did as she asked, feeling tired and guessing it was a good idea. I wasn't sure what a divan was, but it turned out to be a long comfy sofa with a bed-pillow already at one end.

The rest of the furnishings were very old fashioned, I managed to think, before I slept.

== Chapter: After Tea ==

Sometime later I awoke and my watch said it was mid-afternoon.

I was hungry, so I stood up. My tongue felt kind of thick and fuzzy, but I was awake, at least. I felt good, but kind of groggy.

Agnes was standing, looking at me. I tried to pay attention, it seemed important. She beckoned me to follow, so I sat up, stood, and followed.

My head cleared as I came into the kitchen.

She pointed for me to sit at the table, which she'd filled with a giant meal, but only one place setting, mine.

After I sat, she said, "Eat what you like. I really like cooking, and it took a lot out of me to make this, so... I hope you like it."

What wasn't to like? Full serving dishes were in front of me, so I took at least a little bit of each of them - vegetables and thinly sliced beef, cottage cheese with pears on top, jello with pineapple, fresh-smelling hot rolls, some kind of marshmallow-topped fruit salad. I was immensely hungry and sucked it all down with glee at the amazing tastes.

Cherry pie? Oh. My. God!! This was not Normal cherry pie! This was not store-bought, or frozen-unfrozen, or any kind of cherry pie I had had before. This was an Epic Cherry Pie, the Food of the Gods! All other cherry pies until the heat death of the universe would look upon this one and bow in reference!

I kept my mouth shut mostly, meaning open and eating, and confined my compliments to non-geeky things so I didn't risk insulting her. She knew her stuff. My book learning was nothing in comparison to these food-chemistry skills!

She had gotten a small plate for herself and with some obvious breathing-hard pain, sat at the other end of the table while I chowed-down.

The only thing she had was a bit of the pie, and that was enough for her.

We agreed - it was 'some mighty fine pie'.

After I finished she said, "Now, be a dear and clear the table, I have company coming."

I'd had lots of kitchen duty before working for the Tri-Delts so I was efficient. Dishes washed, leftovers packaged and away in the fridge, counters wiped, it was shipshape in no time.

(It was an odd fridge, like it was ancient and white enamel, but it was huge and the inside was stainless steel. I used cling-wrap and put away the food containers, finding there were many others already in the fridge, too, along with 3 gallons of milk! I drank milk, but not that much.)

After I finished, I was Almost, ALMOST to ask her whether or not she was going to let me live there, and if so why me, and then if there was anything I could do.

She looked to be in serious pain.

Somehow, I couldn't ask. It was like I'd been told not to, and I was living in that boundary, yet I didn't remember actually hearing that instruction. It just seemed better to stay quiet.