Zach's weekend October 4-6

The day started off dreary, the rain falling against the truck as we sat inside, sheltered from the rain temporarily. A light fog was in the air, as we listened to the steady thrumming of raindrops splattering against the roof. I was alone this weekend, my partner left me stranded in London, and if it wasn’t for the kindness of classmates Jon and Mark I would have been absent as well. The sight of Lucas’ Van sent us into the rain, our sweaters and pants growing damper with each passing moment. Our eyes adjusted to the gloom quickly enough, as Lucas explained to the group the codes for the house and toolshed, and how we can contact him before he split us up and sent us to different sections of the grounds. As the sun finally rose into the sky, the temperature rose as well, turning the greenhouse into a miniature sauna. My task for the weekend was put in front of me: Put a triangle of rooted cuttings into a one gallon pail, give a light sprinkle of water over the plants when needed. After lunch, I joined Lucas and Mike in welcoming and helping out high school students with mini projects. These mini projects were to continue the planting of cuttings, to drop paw paw seeds into pots for overwintering (After taste testing that delicious nectar), and finally letting them leave with 6 paw paw seeds snugly set into their pots. As well as one lucky student got a cactus, and the rest received oaks, hopefully rooting their love for our field.

 

 Our second moist day, we arrived early once again, the sun barely rising over the surface of the earth. The task of sorting, cutting, and rearranging the grasses in the greenhouse was the first and lengthiest endeavor, which showed that over half the grasses were Karl Forester reed grasses. Wiping my hands on my pants, I emerge muddy, and satisfied. Most of the time was spent simply removing the grasses, swatting at the swarms of mosquitos that plagued the area. During this time, I couldn’t help but notice the weeds running rampant through almost half of the pots. Clovers and crabgrass, thistle and dandelion; these weeds were torn from their nest, and thrust into the compost pile, their ugliness plauging the clippings of the grasses beside them. The disorganized pots that lay in the hoop houses needed to be straightened and compacted together, making more room for the mass of plants inside the greenhouse. Our day came to a close, the boys coming up to me and telling me that it was already past five. Looking at the area of devastation, I knew I had some work ahead of me.

 

The third day started with a shocking discovery; or rather it was a lack of shock that was found. The power was out throughout the house, and greenhouse. The computer lay dead, our projects hidden in its folds, unable to be worked upon. Rain came down harder that morning, the crash of the droplets heard across the covered plant storage. I started my work, moving all the grasses to one side of the corridor, and the daylilies and iris’ to the other side. Second, I cleared off most of the plants on the table in the middle of the room, leaving only 1/10^th of the surface covered by pots. The rest of the table I hosed down, getting off any excess media that still clung to the wood. Organizing the pots yet again, and picking up any stray leaf or flower on the floor. The ground became soaked with water, so I swept it out the main entrance. By this time, the day was almost through, leaving only two tasks: help Michael unload the CLT gear, and to clean the floors and surfaces of the house, covered by the filth of our feet. As the last pebble of sand was removed, the whistle blew, signifying our freedom from our educational slavery. Packing the gear into the truck, we gave a small wave to the house, forever leaving its mansion-like splendor.