Time Traveler

Doctor Who travels through time and space in a telephone booth.  H. G. Wells had a time machine.  Captain Kirk had his, "Beam me up, Scottie," platform.  For me, a pea pod took me instantly from the present back to being six or seven years old, sitting on my mother's porch on a late afternoon.  The sound of the crunch breaking the pod is as familiar to me as my own name.  The smell of just-mown grass is the only thing I can think of that smells "greener" than fresh peas.  Opening each little surprise package to discover those silky green pearls hasn't lost its charm.  Plonk, plonk, plonk as they fall into the pot.  All those years fell away as I shelled the peas for dinner the other night, and I was a little girl again.  What I had forgotten was how meaty, tasty, full of flavor and texture fresh peas are compared to frozen.  How glad I am I got the garden going again.

Sheep-shearer Guy called just after I came up from the barn yesterday and said he had put me on the schedule for about four o'clock in the afternoon.  (Yippee!)  I told him that certainly worked for me, and I'd see him then.  I spent the day trying to figure out how I was going to get Poppy in from the field (she doesn't herd well), and how I was going to get Nineteen in to get his hooves trimmed without getting mobbed by the girls.  About four o'clock, I thought I'd do a little (more) weeding while waiting.  Finished the section around the front of the house.  Hmmm.  Moved out to the rock garden.  Finished the one side entirely, with a quick break for a fast dance when I disturbed a nest of fire ants.  Picts and Huns couldn't have rushed out more fiercely to defend their home turf, and those little boogers hurt!  They are the pit bulls of the ant world, biting and not letting go.  Got a good start on the remaining side of the rock garden, but getting pretty tired and by seven o'clock was wondering if Sheep-shearer Guy had changed his schedule.  Just then the phone rang; he was up in Grizzly Flat and headed in my direction.  I decided to wait in the house while I could still stand up straight.  Guy brought his girlfriend along, which relieved me from acting as helper, for which, at this point, I was grateful.  There is no electricity down at the barn for his shears and my little generator hadn't been used for a year.  I had fingers crossed on both hands, and that dear little machine started on the first pull!  It being nearly sundown, the easiest course of action was just to put all the animals to bed and then Poppy would be easy to separate and contain.  As he started her pedicure with her lying on her back, she gave a kick that drove the razor-sharp shears into his thumb.  Being a manly man, he cussed a blue streak but refused offers of Betadine and Band-Aids and continued on with his work, dripping blood as he went.  It probably would have taken me longer to get up to the house and back than it took him to finish his job.  In no time, Poppy was pounds lighter and dancing on fancy feet.  Nineteen got his toenails trimmed in a flash.  Everything was done before the sun went down.  Sheep-shearer Guy and girlfriend gave me big hugs, jumped in their truck, and with a cry of, "See ya next year!," were gone in a swirl of dust.  And the rock garden looks good, too.