For anyone concerned with my potential state of homelessness, worry no more. I spoke with Sally—a sixty-eight year old Vermonter, who’s been coming here to her family’s cottage by the sea every summer for sixty-five years—and she said she would be more than happy to have me stay with her for that week. I have to say, I’m relieved. While staying at the women’s shelter would be an enlightening experience, it would have been—as my best friend pointed out—“kind of the same enlightment you’ve been getting these past few months.” Good point.
Today was fairly uneventful, at least compared with yesterday. I spent the morning packing peaches. It’s not that I never want to see another peach again; it’s just that I don’t want to sort, pack, and weigh another peach again. Let me do some quick math… Okay, this is just an estimate, but since I’ve been here, I’ve sorted, packed, and weighed at least four thousand pounds of peaches. At least. Holy guacamole.
After lunch, I went through the orchard, weeded the area around the trunks of the apple trees, and then wrapped the wire rodent guard around the base. I’ve been assigned the task for the entire orchard. I finished about ten out of eighty or so today, and then Tim and I drove out to Naskaeg Point and picked crabapples for the next two hours.
One of the things I’ve noticed since I’ve been here is just how much physically stronger I’ve become, especially in my arms. When I first got here and had a hard time lifting things, it irritated me that Tim just said, Come on, you can lift that, and stood there watching me struggle. Aggravated, I would think to myself, Look, I know I like to claim to be a liberated, modern woman, but you could show a little common courtesy and carry this darn thing for me before it rips my arms out of socket. But now as I lift heavy loads with much more ease than I did six weeks ago, I think, triumphantly, Haha!
Girl you've got guns!!
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