I wince as I write this, my sore fingertips and back screaming at me in a hellish chorus. Those crops I planted to take up the space where my turnips sprouted a while back are not growing very quickly. So far, nothing has died, and I guess I should feel grateful for that. Green beans sounded good to me and they’ll (in theory) keep sprouting all season, so I bit the bullet and bought enough to fill my small garden patch. It was hard work hauling those trellises back from town and getting them planted properly in the sticky earth, but I managed to finish that in one hardworking morning.
And then, I tried to water the seedlings.
Impossible, absolutely impossible. I could take care of the outer ring all right, but even though I’d followed the guidelines, the inner plants were completely unreachable. I tried to dig one back out and only succeeded in killing the tender vine. What could I do? I had no money for replacement crops. Since leaving them there did no real harm other than taking up valuable planting space, I opted to do that for the time being. I was still sore from the prior day’s backbreaking work of trying to clear more of my seemingly-endless property and my hands were covered in sore spots and blisters from poking seeds and sticks into the ground. I said screw it and took that long walk to the beach, fishing pole in hand.
It was raining pretty hard by the time I finished that trek into town, so I opted to visit a few neighbors along the way and take the chance to wring out my clothes a little. This did not go well. Since I’d taken the southern route, I ended up walking right by Jodi’s door. I wouldn’t say I’m friends with anyone yet, but I could at least make the effort. I found a few flowers along the way to town, and I thought those might brighten up that poor stay-at-home mom’s day. Unfortunately, a dandelion I’d been planning to turn into a dinner salad dropped to the floor and Jodi grabbed it up. She gave the weed a strange look and said, “This is disgusting.”
I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her I’d been planning to eat the “disgusting” thing, so I just kind of stood there, drenched by the rain, stinking of mud and disapproval. There was no point in handing her a daffodil now. She eyed my boots and stated her concern that I’d track mud across her clean floor. That was enough for me. I mumbled a quick hello/goodbye to her kids Sam and Vincent and made my escape.
I remembered that Emily and her sister lived just next door and decided to take another shot at being friendly. Emily, scruffy blue hair or not, seemed to like everyone. I decided to give her the bloom originally meant for Jodi. But sadly, Emily wasn’t who I encountered. It was Haley, the pretty but shallow blonde sister who I was coming to dislike. For once she didn’t insult my clothes or my hair or my looks in general. Today it was all about the town. I know Pelican Town isn’t the biggest show on earth, but just because a place is large (like Zuzu City), that doesn’t mean it’s better. I tried to explain that but she wasn’t even listening, only lamenting the fact that she had to shop online. I did the smile/nod thing and waited for her to stop talking so I could take my leave. She did eventually stop but looked at me with a hopeful expression as if she expected something. I didn’t want to give her my lone daffodil. She didn’t seem the type to appreciate it anyway. The only other thing I had on me was a wild onion, and I handed it over, knowing it was a mistake. Haley wrinkled her nose in disgust, dropped the onion to the floor, and sighed “What a stupid gift.” I shrugged and left, being sure to squeeze out my shirttail and leave a small puddle of rainwater on her immaculate hardwood floor.
By the time I made it out to the dock near Willy’s shop, it was pretty late. Not only was I wet, but the air temperature had also dropped quite a bit. Typical Spring weather. Even so, I refused to give up. After casting several times and winding up with a bag full of sticks and seaweed, my upbeat attitude left me. One more, I told myself. Once more and then I’m going home no matter what time it is. So I cast my line into the ocean. I could barely see it with the wind and rain whipping around my head. When I felt that fish strike, I set the hook as hard as I could and started to reel it in. It fought me, drifting closer and then darting away, and for a while, I thought I might lose it. When it gave up, I could sense it. With a renewed sense of triumph and optimism, I pulled the line closer and examined my catch. I had to look at it very closely because it was the smallest fish I’d ever seen on a hook (unless you count the bait some fishermen use). All I’m going to say is that anchovies can put up one heck of a fight.
And now I really was done. I had nearly no energy left, I was all the way across the Valley from my farm, and I’d accomplished virtually nothing. My big accomplishments today were pissing off a couple of neighbors and catching a tiny little anchovy that a goldfish could’ve beaten up. Upon reflection, I guess my mistake today was leaving the farm. If I’d focused on that today, sore or not, I know I could’ve made a dent in that stony field near the pond. Instead, here I was, far from my bed with a nearly-empty backpack. My stomach protested loudly, but a stop at Gus’ Tavern was not in the cards, not with my spending cash in such awful condition. With a feeling of resignation bordering on despair, I choked down the lone anchovy and a wad of still-dripping seaweed. It didn’t seem like much, but I did have the energy to drag my carcass home, nothing in my backpack but my tools and one very battered daffodil, which never did find a new owner to love it. If I thought the daffodil would’ve given me any kind of energy boost I probably would’ve eaten that too.
Before turning in (my wise cat Naranja was already snuggled up on the bed and sleeping), I took a look at my pitiful garden. I thought I might have a few parsnips ready to sell in the morning. I am very thankful they grow so quickly. As for everything else, it would take time. But did I have time? I don’t like having to think this way, but maybe if I got to know the neighbors better they’d do something like cut me a break on prices or offer a little more for my produce and stuff. Who knows, maybe I could even get a dinner invitation out of the deal.
Making friends isn’t that easy for me, but if I don’t, I am never going to get by out here in the country. I hated working for Jojacorp and I hope I don’t have to go crawling back to that place with my tail between my legs, admitting that I am a failure. As I stood there contemplating my future, the rain stopped, the clouds dissipated, and the night sky was there, cold, black, and filled with stars. It made me feel both a big part of the world and reminded me that I was very small. These were the thoughts I carried with me as I found my way into my cabin and put myself to bed. Tomorrow. It has to be better tomorrow.