By Caroline Patrick

Summer’s Harvest

I was born a city girl according to my husband’s calculations. The city was actually a large town of approximately 25,000 people. In comparison to his birthplace, a small Kansas settlement of 700 souls, he is probably correct.

I certainly wasn’t familiar with crops, harvesting, care of tractors, irrigation systems or getting up every morning to milk cows before school.

I watched my mother gather wild greens and dig roots for tea, and listened as she told stories of her childhood days, where the garden grown during the summer made the difference between a long, hard winter or a cozy hibernation in the Midwest harsh winters. The largest garden I ever saw my parents plant was two rows of radishes, two rows of onions and some Big Boy and Early Girl tomatoes. Oh, yes, and a dusting of poor looking leaf lettuce.

On the other hand, my partner’s family and their families were farmers! The heat of Kansas’s rolling hills grew thousands of acres of golden wheat to feed America.

Scrapbooks kept by aunts and uncles over the years recorded success and failures of over 75 years of farming. Horse and mule teams pulling giant wagons of baled gold filled the memory book pages.

My husband’s siblings consisted of six boys and one little girl. Their blonde white hair blew in the wind as the boys grasped the heavy bales with large hooks, throwing and lifting in one motion, to the brother standing above on the flatbed wagons. Work was a normal, everyday occurrence known to every member of these families. Working together, eating together at every meal, sleeping together, three in a bed, going to school and church together, formed a lasting bond of unity to the home.

Fifteen years into our marriage, my husband decided buying eighty acres of land would give us a way to each our children responsibility, keep them out of trouble by wearing them out.

The feng shui of the land left something to be desired. The balance of wind and water was a constant struggle. The choice of land was high desert, arid, dry, beautiful and cruel. With three large wells on our eighty acres, we were considered rich.

Land in this type of environment grows sagebrush unless it is pampered, fertilized, tilled and watered. In 1978 our electricity bill for only forty acres was $1200. Pumps required to pull water to the surface pump day and night all growing season. Some neighboring farmers used gas, a less expensive fuel, to fire the engines as they hummed and roared throughout the valley floor during the growing season.

Different types of watering methods included long rubber siphon hoses, pushed back and forth in a rhythm which forced the water into the hoses and acres of ditches full of wheat, barley, oats, maize, corn, lettuce and cotton. Circular sprinklers spun the precious life-giving liquid into the air as the whirlwind currents of the mountains tossed the water into the wrong directions.

It was an adventure to balance these two necessary elements in the Arizona high-desert climate. Mountain sunsets filled the evening skies. The cold, hot temperatures were hard to judge when planting the summer gardens. After a few years of early garden failures, we decided June first as the day. Safe and usually warm. We all gathered like wooden soldiers at the edge of the freshly tilled four-acre garden plot. Our chickens gathered around our ankles in an excited clucking kind of chorus, waiting to snatch up the freshly planted seeds. My father-in-law watched and waited for the action to start. Leaning on his hoe, he patiently observed my husband’s orders pertaining to who planted green beans, who planted peas, carrots, radishes, lettuce, squash, etc. "Popcorn can’t be next to sweet corn," he would caution. "Why?" asked our young son. "Just because," was his standard answer when anything was pollinated, bred or reproduced. His father would silently smile as his son tried to avoid the subject of procreation. Later, I would get to fill in the blanks for our young son on these delicate subjects.

Our daughter would snarl with her teenage arms wrapped and crossed across her chest. Farm life was a punishment for this young lady. Having friends over for the weekend was her only motivation for getting her chores done early. The sandy soil became warmer as the morning sun ticked across the majestic blue skies.

Potatoes were added to the ground in March, tomatoes in June and watermelons began to gorge themselves with the yearly August monsoon rains. Watering this thirsty soil was a daily necessity. Our animals watched the yearly ritual. Two calves turned into cows, two little piglets became huge eating machines. Ducks swam in the pond. Chickens, cats and dogs rode in wheelbarrows, buggies, wagons and trailers, being entertained and loved. Sunflowers grew five feet tall at the front of the garden, providing seeds for the birds and fall toasting seeds for the family. As the corn grew and the barley matured, coyote packs passed by yipping and howling on their daily trips to town, hunting prey. Saving puppies, baby coyotes, ground squirrels, runts, from ducks and chicken "litters" became a city girl’s normal day. Teaching our children and myself the balance of nature was one of the greatest gifts presented to me. Looking back over those days, I treasure the time spent with mother nature. I’ve forgotten the floods, snow storms, electricity failures, ten-party phone line, trying to keep wood for our heating hauled in the house, being in charge of pumps, children, dogs, cats and food. Or maybe the many times of digging out the septic tank in hip boots or cars not starting on cold mornings when my husband was working away from home. The harmony and balance of these important years brings back memories of fun and laughter along with some sorrow, but a step toward unity and bonding with family and nature.

Fall Workshops 2002

Feng Shui Classes

1. Relationships — Love and Work Related

1. The Shape of the House Is You

• Choosing floor plans for easy feng shui
• Interior · exterior design
• Feng shui gardens
• Landscaping with the elements
• Plants · climate · terrain

1. Setting the Feng Shui Energy — 5 Element Altars

• Clear the clutter · Remove 27 objects
• Magical energy of numbers
• Remove blockage · restore health & wealth
• Space clearing
• Create altars for any religion or occasion
• Attunements

1. Greeting Cards for All Occasions

• Supplies furnished · limited space

1. Painting with Chi

• With your own supplies $98 or
• Supplies furnished $125
• Limited seating

Saturday, September 28^th, 9:30 a.m. — 12 noon - $98

• Body systems/organs
• Western/Chinese approach
• Tongue and pulse diagnosis