Windrow Garden Read online

  You will need to protect your pond or reservoir from the unwanted intrusion of cattle or other large farm stock. They can and will break down the banks, soil the water, and create havoc with a stocked fishpond. A multiflora rose hedge makes an attractive barrier for cattle and provides a refuge for wildfowl.

  For fun and pleasure, you should try to create the best possible conditions for wildlife. Natural fertilizers around the dam area will maintain the flora. It would be advisable to plant grasses and a legume-like tall sericea lespedeza, which will provide food and cover for birds and small game.

  Farm ponds stocked with fish should be fished often. You cannot over-fish a farm pond. Inciden-tally, frequent fishing will actually help to produce more fish in the pond. The activity of unhurried fishing under the spreading shade of trees, the whisper of grasses in the breeze, the natural flora aroma on the air, and the tranquility at the end of a hard day’s work are just a few of the unsung benefits for the homestead.

  Groundwork

  In April the work on the truck farm began in earnest with the planting of crops and new berry bushes. Seedlings from the greenhouses, hotbeds, and cold frames were set into the soil. Radishes, turnips, spinach, kale, potatoes, asparagus, rhubarb, cabbage, broccoli, onions, shallots, and garlic were placed in the readied and conditioned acres north of the farmstead. The fields fairly hummed with the activity of planting and sowing of the first crops that would go to market in the Kansas City, Missouri, Farmer’s Market in the River Quay area. They would be the first to bring what Sally hoped would be profit in the new year.

  The second setting would produce lettuces, mustard, cauliflower, beets, basil, Swiss chard, carrots, peas, parsley, parsnip, and chicory on the forty-acre spread immediately west of the homestead. Warm-season crops of peppers, hot peppers, cucumbers, cantaloupe, pumpkin, watermelon, sweet potatoes, and small squashes would be planted in the fields that had been allowed to remain untilled the year before.

  The third and last set of twenty acres would produce specialty items Sally had started in the greenhouses. Sally intended to provide herbal recipes and simple techniques to help city dwellers cope with their hectic lives. Chives, chamomile, cilantro, epazote, fennel, dill, borage, anise, hyssop, sage, marjoram, balm, lavender, sorrel, perilla, thyme, tarragon, rosemary, summer savory, and ginger would make oils, vinegars, and teas for enthusiasts. It was a new enterprise and one that Sally hoped would become profitable.

  Nicole was equally caught up in the swirl of activity going on around her. She worked furiously to maintain and ready the seed drills, tractors, mowers, planters, cultivators, wagons, and manure loaders. At the end of each day her back, hands, and muscles along her shoulders gave notice to the effort and strain the workload had placed on her. She began to have intimate knowledge of and a new understanding for the term handywoman. She was in charge of repairing fence line, forming and pouring a new sidewalk from the produce shop to the greenhouse, and welding broken machine parts and working with hot and cold metal to improvise parts for the essential machinery.

  New calves, lambs, and chicks scurried in their respective pens, bleating and calling for their mothers' attentions. The earth had been turned, raked, and drilled with what seemed to be every imaginable plant and seed on earth. The fresh clean sweet air flowed through the farmstead and invigorated even the weariest worker. The sweep of aromas and smells that heralded spring, new growth, and the renewal of life overtook every activity. All able hands were turned to the work of bringing something new and tender into the world. Days started early and ended late. Nicole ate breakfast in her cottage, packed lunches for herself, and sometimes found the energy to fix supper at the end of the long days.

  Occasionally Nicole would see a slick, black Le Sabre pull up in front of Sally’s house and a well-dressed man emerge and go to the door. On those evenings, her curiosity overwhelmed, Nicole would watch as the man and Sally emerged from the house. Once a week like clockwork he would arrive and take Sally somewhere —perhaps into the city for dinner and dancing. Nicole never knew when they came back. It seemed none of her business. She took her body and intents into Kansas City. In the city she found everything she needed except a place to put her heart. She tried not to be interested in or concerned with any life but her own on the farmstead. The intent seemed to be working.

  As the warming days of April wore on and the activity of work, repairs, and planting consumed all hands, Nicole worked alongside Jake and Carl. She worked to ensure that they had the machinery they needed and were not drawn from the fields to make minor electrical or plumbing repairs. Occasionally Jake would seek Nicole out in the early morning for a quick cup of coffee before the day began its flurry of activity. He would gently tease her about her solitary habits and bring her a few temptations from the kitchen. He’d tell her Sally had prepared the treats with her own hands.

  In the third week of April Nicole noticed that Sally began to make a point of seeking her out. Nicole would be working on a piece of equipment or attempting to plan a day of mowing the underbrush near the tree line, and suddenly Sally would appear.

  She would stand and wait until Nicole noticed her waiting patiently nearby. Or, if Nicole appeared to look up from her work, Sally would wave and walk to the place Nicole had stopped the machinery. She would approach smiling, while Nicole watched the tantalizing saunter. During those breaks from work, Sally would keep the alluring smile on her lips and ask Nicole how things were going and what she was doing to or with a particular piece of machinery. She would tarry and talk to her about some obscure aspect of the farming operations or make some pleasantry about the weather. Although the interruptions would give Nicole an excuse to stop work and listen in polite curiosity to her boss’s inquiries, questions tugged at the back of her mind.

  When the weather began its slow warming trend, Sally began to appear in Nicole’s workshop, a cup of hot chocolate or coffee in her hand and an offer of conversation on her lips. The slow dance of attention and enticement jangled Nicole’s nerves. Ever cautious and a little disturbed at her own intensifying interest; Nicole tried to distance herself from any desire to have more than conversation with Sally. She deliberately busied herself by going to town for parts and equipment and taking increasingly frequent forays into the city. She sought company and solace in the arms of passionate strangers, which wasn’t what she wanted but seemed the best and wisest alternative. But there were frequent uncomfortable experiences when she imagined seeing Sally’s face and feeling the touch of her skin while in someone else’s arms.

  Nicole would remind herself that Sally was straight and that straight women were occasionally flirtatious without intending to be.

  In the weeks since she’d eschewed Sally’s speculative advance, what had seemed like an honorable act now weighed on her like a sin. Nicole was angry at herself and angrier with Sally for tempting her interest, initiating an absorption in dreams of palatable delights she labored busily to ignore. Kansas City was no longer succor for her turbulent libido. And the delights she found there left her cold. Sally had seen to that. Nicole had become haunted and no touch but Sally’s could warm her.

  The farm’s atmosphere turned heavy. Like an electric storm, something threatened to crest the far horizon and vent itself across unprotected terrain.

  On a Tuesday in the warming middle of May Nicole worked through the noon hour, skipping lunch and vowing not to stop until she’d worked enough to tire her beyond any possibility of daydreaming.

  The heat of the arc welder, the close confines of the workshop, and the sun through the open door had made the sweat roll off her body. She didn’t mind. It felt good to focus on the immediate task. She had to. Flying droplets of flux covered the electrodes as they met the cold metal, but they could fly off and burn terrible scars into her if she were not careful. With her protective helmet in place and her hands covered in gloves that extended to her elbows, Nicole ran a clean, dense bead along the fractured edge of the wagon’s tongue.

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p; She worked feverishly until late afternoon and managed to finish welding the broken tongue back onto the wagon. She sat back on her heels and raised the visor of the helmet to check her work. The coating was even and there was no overlap. Sweat streamed down from her hair and was touched by a tiny breeze through the doors. The draft caused the sweat to evaporate in cooling chills under her drenched shirt.

  “I need a break,” Nicole said, rising to her feet and stretching her weary back.

  At the cottage Nicole showered under the steaming hot streams of water until she was sure the sweaty salt had been banished from every part of her body. She reached out and swiftly turned off the hot water. Suddenly, she was under the stimulatingly brisk spray of cold water. She turned and let it revive her skin, front and back, until her teeth threatened to chatter. She stepped out of the shower and rubbed herself briskly with a large Turkish towel until her skin was pink and felt fresh. In the bedroom she put on a pair of clean blue jeans, T-shirt, socks, and comfortable boots. She grabbed her bedroll and walked into the kitchen. A few moments later she strolled out of the cottage, through the pasture gate, and toward the pond Jake had pointed out to her weeks before. With the bedroll under her arm and a lunch sack in her other hand, Nicole marched to the place she intended to claim as her personal retreat.

  In less than two minutes she vanished from the view of the farmstead, but not before Sally observed her disappearing around the barn and reappearing briefly as she made her way across the fields.

  Nicole’s feet took her over fallow meadows, across low meandering hills, and back toward the quiet solitude of the pond. On the last rise of the land, she navigated around the tilled and planted fields by staying close to the windbreaks of Scotch pine, cottonwood, and Russian mulberry groves.

  As she walked the softened path on natural leaf mulch, she heard rather than saw the busy consternation of small furred creatures remarking about her invasion into their territory. Some chattered in protest as others swiftly vanished in flashes of fur into the shadowed depths of the windbreak.

  Meeting the rise of the abbreviated hill, she immediately began her descent toward the edge of the pond. Western meadowlarks, a mockingbird, and two red-tailed hawks watched her from their flight as she walked through the tall grasses surrounding the pond.

  As she stood at the edge of the pond, the only sounds Nicole could hear were the lilting of breezes in the leaves of the oak and the thundering of her heart. She closed her eyes and felt the sun warm her face, heard the nearly noiseless lapping of the pond, and breathed in the rich sweet smell of the earth. She inhaled deeply and let the seclusion and silence of nature’s liturgy fill her with pleasure.

  She untied the bedroll and spread it out on the ground, dropping her lunch sack next to it. As she lay down on the spread she could hear the combination of brittle, winter-dried grasses and new sprouts crinkle under her weight. Nicole lay there and let the heat and light of the sun play through her closed eyelids with their bright white radiance.

  She sat up and reached for her lunch sack. In it she had placed sandwiches, an apple, and cheese with every intention of eating them. She didn’t pull any of them out. Instead, she grabbed the bottle of inexpensive Chianti and quickly opened it.

  Nicole took a long slow drink. She liked the feel and glow of it as it spilled down her throat and into her stomach. She liked it so much, she decided to have several more. For dessert, she extracted a tiny black cigar from a pocket in the sack, rolled it between her fingers, and deliberated about it as overindulgence. Indulgence won. She found a crumbled pack of matches and slowly, with firm attention, held the flame a bare fraction of an inch from the cut tip. She inhaled slowly, coughed on the unfamiliar taste, and took a drink of wine to aid in the digestion of the sharp flavor swirling in her mouth.

  A gentle current of spring air flowed across the new grass and tickled her skin. Nicole stretched out again on the outspread bedroll, content with herself and her little corner of the world. The late afternoon sun soothed her and quieted her heart. The combined fragrances of the pond, meadow, and timber permeated her senses and she closed her eyes, drifting near sleep.

  Languidly, Nicole snuffed out the half-smoked cigar and rose slightly to unbutton her blouse. The sun had grown hot against the material of the shirt, and she wanted the full benefit of the heat. She unbuttoned her cuffs and shrugged off the shirt and T-shirt to bare herself to the rays of the sun. She found the wine bottle, pulled the cork from its mouth, and drank deeply. As the red liquid flowed down her throat she lay back, shutting her eyes to everything but the overwhelming affirmation of her seclusion.

  * * * *

  As Sally neared the pond she caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. A flash of plaid material and glimmer of skin on the other side of a patch of budding shrubs momentarily surprised her. She slowed her pace and warily walked toward the bushes. Apprehensively, tentatively, Sally leaned over the bushes and spied Nicole in slumbering repose. The swell of Nicole’s breasts, coupled with the long smooth tone of her body, transfixed Sally’s gaze and rekindled long-buried hunger. Pulling her courage around her, she stepped around the thin shrubbery and softly cleared her throat as she emerged on the other side.

  Nicole jumped at the sound of the dainty cough and quickly reached for her discarded shirt. Her eyes stared in trepidation, then widened in surprise as she recognized her visitor. Her hand forgot its mission and faltered in its search for her shirt. Amazed and uncertain, she watched Sally move through the rich green shoots of grass. The light cotton dress moved as it clung to her gentle curves. Nicole was speechless.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” Sally said as she knelt on the bedroll next to Nicole.

  “Where did you come from?” Nicole managed to force the question from her throat.

  “Over the hill and through the woods. Same as you. Except this used to be my favorite secret place. How did you find out about it?” Sally asked as she tried and failed to keep eye contact with Nicole.

  “Sorry,” Nicole said as she remembered her nakedness and made a hasty, blushing grab for the discarded clothes. As she tried to cover herself and recover the shirt, her hand hit the wine bottle and tipped it over. Sally deftly rescued the spilling bottle and just as quickly stalled Nicole’s hand in its flight.

  “This is supposed to be my place,” Sally said teasingly as she raised the bottle to her lips.

  “Jake showed it to me some time back. First week I came to work,” Nicole responded as her heart tried to escape from her mouth.

  “Hmm, this does taste good,” Sally remarked as she offered the wine bottle to Nicole. “You don’t have anything dangerous or contagious, do you?”

  “I’ve been tested and found healthy through and through,” Nicole said, feeling the need to take another sip from where the lips she hungered for had lingered a moment before.

  “Me, too,” Sally offered. “Never hurts to ask, does it?”

  “No,” Nicole said, feeling lightheaded on more than the wine.

  “Will you share the rest with me?” Sally asked in sweet suggestion.

  “If you stay here one more moment, the only thing I can promise you is that I can’t promise to be on my best behavior,” Nicole warned.

  “You’d be bad?”

  “I’d be as good as I know how. I can promise that,” Nicole said as she reached over and cupped Sally’s face gently in her hand. “It’s best not to tempt someone with a sweet tooth,” she admonished.

  “There’s a difference between teasing and tempting. Do you know what that is, Sergeant Jeager?” Sally asked as she kissed Nicole on the cheek.

  “At this moment? I haven’t a clue.”

  “Well, teasing is torment but tempting, that’s different…because it has follow-through,” Sally said as she kissed Nicole full on the lips and moaned in sweet surprise as she drank in the taste of the full trembling lips on her mouth.

  Rising to her knees, Nicole tenderly clasped Sally’s shoulders and drew
her into her arms. Their bodies met, and fire of the flesh lit where they touched. Blazing want seared into intense necessity. Nicole’s mouth found and explored the nape of Sally’s neck, the tip of her chin, and the hollow of her throat. Sally rose slightly on her knees and offered the small perfect globes of her breasts and felt herself freed from her bonds as Nicole unbuttoned the cotton shirtdress.

  A tiny rivulet of sweat raced down Sally’s neck between her soft, rounded breasts and hurried toward her navel. Nicole saw it, tried to catch it, to taste it on its swift, slick course. At Sally’s moaned pleading, Nicole pulled at the dress, lifted its hem, and pulled it up over Sally’s body. Freed from their restraint and the constraints of clothes, Nicole and Sally clung to each other, letting the full potency of flesh meeting flesh wash over them.