The Journal: Cracked Earth Read online

  Then there were the owner/members of the Resort. Being their massage therapist for the past sixteen years had given me an insight into a world of the elite and wealth that I never would have seen on my own. The members are wealthy—some very, some extremely. I often heard about their month long vacations to Italy in the spring, the weeks in the Bahamas during the winter, plus the trips to Europe with jaunts to Paris and London then on to Rome. What I admired most though, was that they were all really very down to earth people. I’d seen them shopping at the local big box stores or pumping their own gas.

  One time I asked an older client for some advice on the British hierarchy, prepping for a costume party that I was hosting. After she explained the pecking order of a Duke to an Earl, a Duchess to a Lady, she laughed and said, “I must tell you the most amusing story about when Prince Philip came to visit!” I was amazed, though not surprised that she actually knew the British royal family. I have mourned the ones who have passed right along with their peers, not embarrassed to sob at the Resort held memorials. Yes, I would miss the people the most. Many of them had become dear friends, and I would see them next spring.

  * * *

  I did a cursory inventory of the freezer room pantry, the first of three separate storage areas. There wasn’t as much beef or chicken broth as I would like, but it was something I could make. I also had some fruits, canned beans for quick use, one hundred pounds of flour, light bulbs, all kinds of miscellaneous stuff, plus all my herbs and seasonings. The wine rack my son Jason built isn’t really full, yet I’d say there were four cases of wine, though some was my cooking stock: Marsala, Sherry, and Port. I wasn’t worried about how much wine was (or wasn’t) there. The freezer itself, even though it’s only twelve cubic feet, was packed. I had lots of beef and chicken, some pork, some fish, ten pounds of butter, and a few bags of wild mushrooms. I could probably live off the freezer alone for many months. I have difficulty passing up a good sale.

  The entry pantry was stocked with “stuff”: paper goods mostly, and water filters. I have a year’s worth of toilet paper, six months of paper towels, and if I run out, I could use towels and wash them, like Granny did. Installing shelves in there has helped organize that area. I also put in small tubs and labeled them (dental, deodorant, band aids, wipes, misc.), which helped keep track of what was where. There’s also plenty of toothpaste, deodorant, and OTC pain meds.

  My medical bag is good. My friend Shine helped me with that last year—sutures, scalpels, iodine, tissues, blood pressure cuff and stethoscope, plus a dental kit. I certainly didn’t need to worry about shampoo and conditioner now that my hair was so much shorter. A few weeks ago there was a 10 for $10 sale on popcorn so I loaded up and stored it in the front pantry. That’s where Tuft’s litter box is, so checking the stock reminded me to check in the barn for how much spare litter I have for the winter. I need to stock up on dish soap, since there are only four bottles under the sink. I have a couple of tubs of powdered washing soap out in the barn that should last a while, but not indefinitely. Then there was the back room pantry. I’ve outdone myself with the canning this year and am really pleased. I sure won’t go hungry. All in all, I’m happy with my supplies and food stores. I’ve worked hard at it and it shows.

  I do need to make a run to the artesian well soon; I’m almost out of drinking water.

  * * *

  I dug up some horseradish roots a few days ago. The plants did great this summer and the leaves were four feet tall. Earlier in the summer I dried some of the leaves for seasoning on the other hand actually making horseradish from real roots is a new thing for me, so I asked the online prepper groups how to do it. Someone gave me a warning to wear my gasmask. I thought that was silly, but at least that warning got me to get out the N95 mask and the face-sealed goggles and surgical gloves. I set up a table on the deck with the food processor outside and set about making the horseradish.

  I scrubbed the roots with no problem. I peeled the roots with no problem. It was a pleasant scent. I love horseradish. I took all outside and shredded the roots. When I took the lid off of the processor, my eyes burned through the goggles and my nose immediately started to run. OMG... the fumes! YIKES! I dumped the pulp into a glass bowl without going blind and reset it with a chopping blade instead of the shredder and pulsed it several times. Finally it got to the consistency that I wanted. I held the bowl away when I lifted the lid and even still, my eyes watered again. I dumped the chopped root back into the bowl and put a cover on it, then I lifted the goggles and wiped my eyes after I rinsed my gloved hands. I added half cup of my own Apple Cider Vinegar, and stirred it all in. I covered the bowl with a plastic cap and then washed everything. I wasn’t about to bring that stuff inside, so I took the prepared jars out to the deck and filled them with my fresh horseradish.

  Next time I just might use the gas mask. It was quite an experience, and the end product is incredible. It was a good thing the weather was nice. It made me want an outdoor summer kitchen. Maybe next year.

  * * *

  Now that the resort has had closed, it was past time I attacked my fall prep list. There was so much to do, and I still lament I must do it on my own. Looking over the list, I was pleased that I had tackled many of the really important items early.

  The winter wood was delivered in May. I was thankful that Keith let me pay for it when work picked up. This is the first year I managed to stock a full eighteen months’ worth of wood. Every now and then I get the feeling that we’ll have a bad winter and I’m going to need all of that wood. It hasn’t happened yet, still, one of these years it will.

  I use propane for cooking, even though the cook-stove let me do everything I need. Even though I haven’t used much of it, I still called for a winter top off for November first. One more thing off the winter prep list.

  I hadn’t rototilled the garden yet, but I had shut it down and let the chickens run free. This was a really great garden season. I was able to can more tomatoes than ever before, plus greens and squash and beans.

  Back in late August sometime I ran into Mike T., a local farmer, and arranged to barter my tomatoes for some of his corn. Unfortunately, before I could collect, his corn was gone and I had to buy some. Oh well, at least I have two cases, and that’s better than nothing.

  I still need to shut the outside water off. An onerous task since I don’t like going down in that eight foot deep pit where the valve is located.

  * * *

  I love productive days. The weather is holding, sixty-eight degrees today and mostly sunny, a good day to be outside. I dug up a pound of Jerusalem artichokes. Too bad they don’t keep well; I’ll keep adding them to meals before they spoil. I relocated some of them to another part of the garden. I hope that they take.

  I cleaned out the onion beds, planted some garlic, and dug up as many of those darn creeping weeds with the geranium-like leaves as I could. The wheelbarrow was completely full. I knew they’d be back, at least these wouldn’t be tilled in.

  I took down the fence charger and pulled up the cord, storing it all in the barn for next year. One more task to add to the winter prep-fall chores list since it was a new addition this summer. I left the wire at the top on the fence in place. I will have to see how it fares this winter.

  I washed sheets and hung them out on the line, then did all my laundry.

  The day was still young, so I decided I’d go for a walk.

  * * *

  I ended up on the public side of Eagle Beach. It was wonderfully quiet this time of year since all of the tourists were gone and the kids were in school. I had the whole beach to myself. I walked for a bit and then found a large piece of battered driftwood to sit on. Where this piece of wood came from is anybody’s guess. Lake Superior is a huge lake and it might have come from Canada or the other side of the bay. In spite of it being cool, I took off my shoes and dug my toes into the damp, rocky sand. I sat there for a while watching the waves gently lap at the shore, trying to think of what I wanted for
this coming winter. Try as I might, my mind kept drifting.

  I remembered a night so long ago, when my ex Sam and I were new to the area and still working on our house in the woods, long before we split up. It was a warm August night, the moon was new, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Sitting on the beach at midnight and looking at all the stars was mesmerizing. There is no light pollution up here and the sky was brilliant. From the bay, the view out to Lake Superior is more than 180 degrees. That night there were so many stars I could actually see a subtle curvature of the universe. I know it was an optical illusion, but the sky seemed to bend around us. I will never forget that night.

  I dug my toes a bit deeper and felt something sharp. Digging with my fingers, I found a nice piece of hematite to add to my rock collection and stuck it in my pocket. After disturbing the sand, I was visited by a couple of squawky white and gray seagulls, curious if I dug up anything for them. They can be annoying little creatures and it’s part of life on the lake. Almost immediately, there was another shriek, then another. They have some kind of code in that caw, I swear. Soon there were a dozen of those pesky birds swooping down, their raucous cry piercing the quiet, parading up and down the shore or fighting with the next one for a piece of twig. It was a good thing I didn’t have any food or else they’d never leave.

  My attention kept coming back to the first house on the other side of the break wall, which separates the public beach from the residential section with the marina. That first house is where John Tiggs and his co-workers live. I’d been seeing John as a massage client for a year now and I’ve grown dangerously fond of him. During our many hour-long sessions together, he has told me much about himself, past relationships and how he never wants to be emotionally tied to anyone ever again. I wish I could say the same.

  I pulled my focus away from that house to watch an ore freighter chug its way across my view a few miles out. Last year during a particularly violent storm, a thousand-foot freighter took refuge in the much calmer waters of our bay. It was startling for me to see this huge ship anchored calmly. I had forgotten how vast our cove is, at least five miles across making the ship look like a small toy boat in a big bathtub. It stayed for two days and then left quietly during the night when the storm had passed.

  * * *

  The television news tonight covered a riot in Miami. It seems that an entire district didn’t get their food stamps due to a computer glitch, so they stormed the local social services office. When they couldn’t get in (some smart worker quickly locked the doors) the crowd went on a rampage, breaking into stores, looting and setting fires. Due to being short on manpower because of budget cutbacks, there was little that the police could do, so they barricaded the area off to keep more people from entering and let the crowd burn itself out. Apparently one of the caseworkers took charge of the rest of the employees and got them upstairs where they jammed the elevator doors open so it couldn’t be called down.

  The guy put an “out of order” sign on the elevator doors on the main floor and duct taped over the buttons so it wouldn’t show where the elevator was. He used the janitor’s keys and locked the stairwell doors behind him. The final count was seven dead, and one hundred twenty-six injured. One of the dead was a caseworker who wouldn’t retreat. When he tried to get to his car, the crowd beat him to death.

  If people will do this because their food stamps were late, what will they do if something really bad happens?

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: October 23

  Today was my son Eric’s birthday. It’s hard to believe that he’s older now than I was when he was born. I called him even though it was hard to wish him a happy birthday when he and Beth are splitting up. Damn, I really like my daughter-in-law. Eric is coping. That’s the best thing the military did for him, gave him coping skills. He’s a good man and a good father. Perhaps that’s what I did for him: teach him how to be a good parent. I’m so proud of him and it makes me weep sometimes.

  I’m proud of Jason too, in different ways. Jason has turned into an amazing father. Having an autistic child is difficult, however, he’s done well.

  * * *

  I got my rototiller back from Jason and then hired his helper, Abe, to till the garden. My grip has been bad from all the massage work, but with a winter to recover, it would be better by spring. With the ground broken, I’ll be able to run the tiller myself. Jason took the gutters down from the barn that feed the cistern, and then turned the cistern over while Abe tilled the garden. That’s two more things off of my list.

  A few days ago, I came across one of those hard-to-pass-up deals— a clearance sale on chicken legs, what I call a “use or lose” sale. The legs, all twenty-five of them, went into a big pot for soup, which I canned today. Eleven pints, heavy on the chicken, along with the two packages of boneless thighs, making eight more pints. I couldn’t help it. When I see prices like that, I feel the need to buy it.

  The weather is now cool, low fifties, cloudy and dreary. Saturday the temps are supposed to drop into the thirties for the high, so it looks like winter is closing in on us. I think I might run into town and get two more bags of chicken feed and see if rock salt is in stock yet. It should be— I’ve seen Christmas displays already! Geesh, what happened to the day after Thanksgiving?

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: October 24

  I keep looking at my list, and looking at it again. Why am I hesitating to finish it? The water is a big issue. So many times after I’ve turned it off, I find something that I need to hose down, or wash outside, which means turning it back on. I’m also reluctant to empty and winterize the hot tub. This is the perfect time to use it, as the nights are getting chilly. I do love a good long soak. I give therapy all summer long and the hot tub is my therapy.

  * * *

  When I arrived for my morning massage with John, all the guys there seemed antsy and irritable, which is unlike them. They’re usually pleasant and jovial. I wonder if they’re having more problems from the locals.

  These guys might be miners at a very controversial local mine, but they are also a bunch of the nicest guys I’ve met, and they’re trying very hard to fit in with the community. Doing a massage off to the side in the large dining area lets me be the proverbial fly-on-the-wall. These guys are from all over, literally. Lance is from Ireland and I can listen to him talk for hours. Sven is from Sweden, John from North Carolina, and none of them are from Michigan. I think that was intentional.

  Most of them have degrees in something related, like management or geology, or specialize in explosives, and they are all intelligent and polite. Their language is rather rough; it comes with the territory. Actually, that they talked like that in front of me made me feel more accepted.

  I don’t know why the guys are acting peculiar. John said some of them get “feelings” about earth movement, that there had been some, and that it was making them all extra cautious.

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: October 25

  The weather report isn’t good. We are expecting cold rain and thunderstorms for the rest of the week, so I drained the hot tub and dumped the two gallons of anti-freeze in, wrapped up the screen netting, and took down the umbrella. Another major project done, and I’m sure going to miss it. With it sitting outside on the deck, I can’t afford the extra money every month to heat it during the winter.

  * * *

  I was on a roll. I’d been waiting for gas prices to drop so I could refill the drum. This morning it dropped, not much, down to $3.75. Outrageous, but I’m way too nervous about not having full drums. I’ve always had it refilled by now, however, it has been too expensive. I needed eighty gallons to refill everything. That came to a lot of money; on the other hand, I did feel better having the drums topped off even at that price. It took several hours of running back and forth this morning, twenty gallons at a time, trying to time the shift change at Fram’s so it wasn’t so obvious what I was doing, and now I felt so much more confident with full drums.<
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  If a snowstorm takes down the power I need gas for the generator. Depending on how long it stays down, I could need a lot of gas. The two drums and four cans gave me 130 gallons to get through an emergency.

  While I was doing that, I dropped off all the heavy comforters, blankets and pillows at the Laundromat. That storm front must have missed us. The weather was still reasonably okay to dry it all on the clothesline, even with the nighttime temperatures getting into the forties. That the rain had held off so far was a bonus. The temperature actually hit sixty-seven yesterday, not what was predicted at all.

  * * *

  JOURNAL ENTRY: October 26