The demise of the last Apricot Tree.

Many years ago, probably back in about 1994, Kenny and I had a trucking business.  At that time he was working for Clarence Garcia in a small town named Paonia.  To get to Paonia one needs to drive through the Black Canyon, which is near Gunnison.  It was not any place I would want to drive through in the winter, that is for sure.  The job was hauling gravel up to the BLM just out of Paonia.  We owned a park model camper which Kenny stayed in during the week while he worked.  I went a couple days every week because he got lonely.

The town of Paonia is a hippie heaven and there were quilt shops and lots of things for me to entertain myself with while he worked.  He did tell me that cattle roamed free on the BLM and that there were lots of fruit trees that were loaded and fruit was free for the taking.  Choke Cherry.  Peaches. Apricot.  I had no idea what a Choke Cherry was at the time and I did not like Apricots, so that was not a big draw for me.  However, he did like Apricots and proceeded to bring me home a big bag of them and requested that I make Apricot jam.  So when I came home that weekend, I gathered jars, sugar and all the fixings and make him Apricot jam.  The pits I tossed in the dirt over the septic tank.

Imagine my surprise when two weeks later, a million Apricot pits turned into tiny little trees.  Since winter was coming, I heeled them in and covered them with straw.  They survived the cold winter in fine shape and the next Spring I gave everyone I knew all the Apricots they could plant.  I planted 6 for myself which was exactly 6 more than I needed.  Over the years 5 of them died and the one behind the house survived and flourished.  It stood over the house as a memorial to our days in Paonia.   I had to keep the branches cut because it would damage the roof.   And then it got bores. It was time.

I called several tree service places, but no one returned my call.  Then my friend, Kay told me about her tree man.  Aaron Leal.  She would have him call me.  And he did.  And 3 days later this was the scene in my back yard.  2 guys.  One chain saw and no ladder.  Craig and Tony made short work of that big Apricot tree

And then they were done.  

And it was all thanks to this little card!

It was kind of sad to see the tree go and memories of how I got the seeds in the first place, kind of put a damper on my day, but that is what life is all about, isn't it?  I kept a tiny seed that made a big tree that shaded the back of my house from the hot evening sun.  Kenny is gone.  The tree is gone.  I am still here.  I guess there is something to be said for the circle of life.  It does go on, you know.  Whether I like it or not, the sun will come up tomorrow.  The tree will still be gone.  The birds will find somewhere else to nest, and I still do not like Apricots.

Dennis

I remember my very first up close and personal death.  It was not a human, but it was nonetheless very traumatic.  I do not remember how old I was, but I am thinking maybe in the 4th or 5th grade.  We had a milk cow, because back in those days, if you had kids they needed milk and that was how you got it.  I am thinking this milk cow was white with black spots and unless you were there and remember it differently, we will go with that.  At that tender age, I had no idea about how the birthing process worked.  I had watched a chicken lay an egg once, so I knew where eggs came from, but beyond that was a mystery.

I do not remember the cow's name, but I am assuming it was "Bossy" since that was what most of the cows were named.  I came home from school one day and dad and Rudolph Reinke were standing over Bossy.  I was mortified because Bossy should be upright, because that was what cows did.  They stood upright.  A tiny black calf was laying on the ground not far from Bossy.  No one seemed to notice it.  I finally got the 2 men's attention and they moved the little calf into an empty granary.  It bleated at me and I fell in love with the big black eyes.  I was told not to touch it, but I could watch it.

Returning to the yard I overheard conversation between the 2 men that entailed "milk fever", "going to die", "nothing can be done".  While I did not want to hear or watch what was happening, I was far too curious to just walk away.  And finally, Rudolph came up with something that might work.

"I recall this one time and the only thing to do is split her tail, fill it with black pepper and tape it shut."  My God!  Even at my tender age that sounded horrifying, but these were 2 grown men and surely they knew what they were doing.  No one paid any attention to me as I crouched in the dirt several yards away.

They began the chore of splitting her tail as she wailed and bellowed.  Pepper was dumped into the opening and then the tail was taped and the old milk cow lay there with her eyes rolling.  Very soon she was dead.  I had no idea what to do.  No one seemed to know or care that I was prostate with grief.  I needed my mother, but she was in town cleaning someone's house.  So I went to the only warm body I could find and that was the little black calf in the granary.  I told him his mother was dead, but he did not seem to understand.  I made up my mind in that moment that I would be his mother.

When mother got home she found me there with the little calf and tried to tell me about life and what happens after life.  I named the little calf Dennis and he lived almost a whole day before he died and mother then had to explain to me that Dennis was in heaven with his mother.  I do not know what happened to the bodies of Dennis or his mother.  Back in those days there was a business called "the dead animal wagon, " which I assume came and picked them up and took them God only knows where.

It has been over 65 years and I still think about that little calf.  Not so much his mother, but him with his shiny black coat and the darkest brown eyes.  I guess we are pretty much shaped by our younger days, because I still love little calves.  In the field up the road from my house is a pasture.  There cows are brought to spend a few months and give birth to their calves.  The cows are black and the babies are black.  When the calves are born it is a sight to behold, but they only stay with their mother's for a week or less and then they are loaded into a truck and they go away.  I can hear the mother's calling for the babies and it breaks my heart.  I understand that the calves are taken to a place where they are fed milk and fattened up with no exercise.  That is where "milk fed veal" comes from, which is a delicacy in fancy restaurants.

Man's inhumanity  never ceases to amaze me.  The circle of life never ceases to amaze me.  I accept it, but it does not mean I like it.

Today is the first day....

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.  And so it begins.  The Mother's Day High Tea is over and the Yappy Dog Run passed my driveway as I left for church yesterday.  The cups are wrapped and stored in the basement of the church.  This morning I will wrap the tea pots and put them away.  It was a very successful event and I look forward to next year.  The tea is the one time of the year that I get to see a lot of my friends.  This year I had 2 daughters, 2 son-in-laws, 2 granddaughters, 3 great grand sons, my niece Lisa Shea Porter with her husband and daughter and a partridge in a Pear Tree.  The kids got acquainted and a good time was had by all.  But now it is Monday and life moves forward.

When I think about this being the first day of the rest of my life, it seems a  little daunting, but I am pretty sure I can handle it.  All I can say is I had a bumper sticker once that summed it all up for me. It said "If I had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself."  When I was a teenager, I knew I would not live to see 30.  When 30 rolled around and I had 5 kids I was pretty sure 40 was my limit.  40 came and I fell in love and decided I would probably live forever.  Now that I am beginning to fossilize,  I am wondering if age is not just a number?  I have lost a lot of friends and most of my close family.  I am sure there are no uncles or aunts left out there.  The most I could hope for would be a cousin, but I am thinking that is a futile thought.  I have lived in Colorado over half of my life and lost touch of what ever family I had back there.  Do not think I am complaining, because I am not.  I never kept track of them, and by the same token, they never kept track of me.  So there you go!

Now, to the rest of my life.  Many of my friends want to know what I am going to do.  So, let me just weigh out my options.  My 2400 square foot house on one acre of land is pretty much free and clear.  If I sell it, I have to move.  Now where would I move, you ask.  Since I have spent over half my life in Pueblo, Colorado, leaving does not make much sense.  Living in this big house all alone does not make sense either.  I have a cat and 8 geese.  The geese have never lived any where except here, so if I sold the house, the geese would have to stay with the property.  Icarus could move with me, but she has never been a litter box user, preferring rather to use the doggie door and go outside. If I moved into town she would no doubt be ran over the first time the door was opened.

Or, I could get a room mate.  Now, I am sorry, but I can not think of a single soul in my repertoire of friends that I would want to live with and share space with.  I do not want to live with a female who would hog the bathroom and leave things laying here and there.  She would no doubt want to be friends and share secrets, but I am not a secret sharing person.  I thought about maybe a little gay guy, but what if he wanted to throw a party?  I do not want parties and loud music.  I think I am best if I just live alone.  My ideal scenario is just to wake up dead some morning, or better yet, doze off while Jeopardy! is on and just not wake up.  That way, the mortician could just pick me up, the auction house could just sell all my treasures and then...….who knows.

I do not look on death as a bad thing.  Number one, it is inevitable and we are all going to do it sooner or later.  So, rest assured that when that day comes there is going to be one happy woman here!  Before you get excited thinking maybe I have a premonition, think again.  No visions.  No premonitions.  Just the ramblings of an old woman who has been there, done that, and moved on.

Have a good day and remember,

You can not sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself!