|
This is a Christmas
Tale....and so for me... it has to be a sad one... for were this
Christmas Tale not a sad one.....then I should never have known the
feeling of being haunted by my deed ....the callous act.. which plagues
the festive feeling...and causes me.. the pain of sorrow and
regret.........
A Melodrama for the Festive Season.........
Dedicated to Marjie Moore ......
Based on an idea by Me...........
Written with the thought of Marjie Moore in Gum boots in the Garden.....
Taken from an incident in the back yard of a garden in Dundee in 1975...
From a chance remark from Majie, the wellie bootedš ladye from
Seattle...
The Tale O the Daft Gardener..........
The year of 1974 was a turning point in my life....My wyfe and I, with
two young sons in tow, took possession of our first bought house....
Standing on the eastern boundary of Dundee.. in a small cozy
cul-de-sac..where the Arbroath Road leaves the city limits...It was our
first brush with ownership.... I had avidly watched, in that Spring and
Summer, the builders erecting the foundations.. the shell..the
roof...and before the Dundee Trades holiday fortnight.....they
completed....the building of my Castle.....
So as the womenfolk will
do.. she planned the furnishings...the colour schemes...new furniture to
be bought and the old to be sold.. where this would go and where that
would not.....and my lads...each to their own room....their own bit oš
privacy.... I thought on this....I never in my life..had a space to call
my own.....
But tymes change...and the
world was becoming smaller and the dreams of simple folk were
enlarged...the horizons broader than ever known before ....
And so ..when wyfe and sons
were inside....planning the inside plans.....
I gazed outside....at the
bit oš land that surrounded my new abode......
And I saw.... through that
summer haze... the way I would shape it...in what I would plant within
it...and the bounty that would grace the next years harvest
table.....the celebration of my earthly labours.....
So I bought myself some
simple garden tools...
Thick with the clay soil my
garden was.....So ...with Irish pick..I broke asunder the clods of that
red pigmented soil....and adding bags of garden sand and a slight
sprinkling of the lime......I broke the cloying mass....And the tons of
the dark loamy topsoil.....and the mixing of the ancient peat from Angus
bogs....and the honest shite of lowly cattle.......Sweating in Autumns
rimy mire...I mixed the earthly sod..... Come November in eastern
Scotland...the clear night shines wi' the starry sky and the cold
twinkling of diamond points onto frosty earth..... And when the moon was
full..and all were abed.......Would I go out into my small field....look
up into the heavenly black..and call to the old ones of the fertile
fields....to bless my offering.........
So the Winter came and
clothed my humble bit with snow...And the freezing of the land , and the
cold biting Easters from the sea, would come ripping in and all would be
bare and barren....And the frost and ice would have their tyme to make
sport with us mere mortals...
But as the circle of lyfe
goes round.....The easing of the hard cold grip on the land..and the
promise of Spring....and the rains ..but still the biting wynds..... The
idesš came ..and the land stirred...and my first planted daffies poked
their green noses from the soil...and I laughed unto myself at this
wonder....
In that faraway Springtyme....the
yellow in my garden was first in the street...They grew around the
stones I had harvested from the old forgotten farmyard which had once
been the site of our home.....I had struggled and dug them from the
earth ...and raised them...to stand on end....Sandstone they
were.........I have a thing about stones that stand.....
But the back garden was in
need of attention.... And so began my labour of love.....I went to the
digging of it as a man possessed... Wiša sharp tined fork, for the depth
and width o' the dig....the earth opened up to my coaxing, as it always
had.. to its many lovers....And I as a young strong lad.. responded to
its promise...and the fun of the foreplay...and the serious ploughing
and seeding of it...and the love tween man and land was consummated ..on
that special Springtyme tyme.......
Like a love struck swain, I
stood in the shivery darkness o' an April night ..and thought love
thoughts.. to my dark earthy mistress.........
But gardening is a logical
pursuit...so Išm told...and I was eager to look for..and purchase ..
The Garden Shed....
And so I ordered a Kit..and
the cedar load was delivered to my doorstep.... I never was a technical,
or mechanical kind o lad...and the great mysteries of Allen keys as
opposed to Phillips, as to the normal screwdriver.........Jesu !!..I was
in a quandry....Lovemaking ..I know a thing or two.....
Erecting Garden sheds...is another matter...
But to give myself
credit...I managed to ...fix the base....and erect the four walls....the
north facing wall.. by moon-light....and ..with the help of my stalwart
son Graham..we put the roof on..but did not affix it.....That would wait
until the morrow....
I well remember that
Sunday....I opened the back door..and with toast in hand, looked upon my
bit...Something in my minds eye..told me ..all was not well..and that
something was amiss...But the clarity of being wide awake, had not yet
surfaced..and I was still all adreary with last nights dram...
And then the mist cleared
from my eyes...and there before me.... The shed with no roof ??.....
The wynds of last night must
have scampered away with it.....So I quickly dressed and with two eager
boys laughing in tow...until I silenced them with a glare...we set out
in search of the errant roof... Well...all along that old Arbroath road
we went ...asked people all around this new estate.....No
roof.....Across the road and into the farmers fields...along the banks o
the Dichty Burn..in spate now ..and dangerous in the fastness o it...I
took the hands oš my lads in a vice grip here...all manner of waste
passed us ..the burn was a virtual sewer pipe...spewing itšs distaste
into the River Tay...Many a body has been trapped in this stretch....
But no roof....So it is now
home for us..The boys charging ahead...Išm seething in my own
stupidity...for not putting a few fastening nails into the
supports.....How do I order a new Roof ?? .... When I got home,
climbing through the fence of my back garden.....I was met with three
smiling.. knowing.......hearty laughter at my expense.
Sniggers....Shouting comments from my lads..˛ Dadšs so mad hešll hit the
roof˛... all the ha hašing ..whilst I stood apart and took their
teasings......
The common sense..no
nonsense...logical thinking wyfe says...Have a look in the shed
Graham....and looking through the gaping hole where the door would
eventually be.....An inverted shed roof !!.... OOps.....The wynd must
have lifted the roof ..and just planked it..upside down...it sort of
collapsed a
bit and settled into the body of the shed....I never bothered to look
properly....... Gales of laughter from my lads as I chased them in an
effort to kick their arses, for getting one up on me......
So the roof was extricated
from the shed with much difficulty. Then right side up..fastened to its
rightful position...The door next...The window panes in...And the tools
stacked..And the shelves put up....And I was ready to Go Forth and
Garden .... The early tatties first...Row upon row , North to South mind
you..equal sun they must have , for the best crop.. A few weeks later
the Main crop.. Oh.. the varieties...Kerrs Pinks..King Edwards..Golden
Wonders.... A man once said to me..Graham..A tattie is jist a tattie.....That
man was a Cretin....
The rhubarb stools
planted..they would not grow much in the first year.. Give another
season.. they would grow tall and tart and the taste on the table...I
just LOVE rhubarb.... The onions.....Ailsa Craig..need I say
more...lovely sweet nippy buggers these...a guid greet would you
have...before they were in the pot... Carrots...did not do well in my
spot...too stony...In Carnoustie , they do very well...the loam is very
sandy,and therefore they grow well...no stones in their passage of
growth...They grow long and succulent.. Brussels sprouts...Oh miš
gosh....Wee cabbages...boiled ...salted and peppery wi; a guid dab oš
salted butter....mashed or unmashed.....The taste wad crawl roond miš
heart like a hairy worm... And neeps.. for the compliment oš the
haggis..... And Cos lettuce....for the crispness oš a summer
sandwich..wiš cheese and Branson pickle...On the far North hills ..my
boys and I feasted on such snacks...
So on that first
summer..when all us folks met, in this new cocoon of cul-de-sac
friendship.. We tattled over niceties we did not feel ..and tittled over
the scant bikini glances we occasionally were privy to, from over nice
civilised cedar fences ........ And when all were abed.. in the
morning hours just about daybreak tyme....I would go out in the back
garden...and see my crops grow...With the majick scent of the earth
pressed to my nostrils......and the snores of the unaware.. far away
from this beauty... too elemental..to know the true loveliness of lyfe....
And the weeding of the
crops...bare topped now..in the scant heat of an east coast sun..I would
spread my legs wide apart...and shimmy down the tattie dreels..a-weedinš
oot the weeds..And my nose..barely a foot distance from the
earth..turning up the soil..and I ..a witness to the black-blue sunny
beetles, wha rumbled in their panic...from the prongs o my tool....but
they should noš fear the likes oš me...for they were in their journey
across this earth...as I surely was..
And the grass did
grow....And the shaping oš the clothes line area...And the area for the
garage...And the play area... And where .......?? if there was an area
left..?? ..would the new fangled barbecue go.... In the year of
1975...I asked...what's a barbecue..
And the path from.. Here, to
There, to You .... And all the while...For my midnight prayers to the
Pre Christ Gods..... Tall grew my crop...The land gave itšs succour..and
I ..the son..worshipped in the wonder of it...
So the Summer hot heat, gave
way to the cooling and the mild misty morns of the gentle Autumn
Goddess......And the green bowed out, to the yellow and the reddening
and the ripening... of the awaiting Harvest Moon....
And so the days came , when
the tatties had to be lifted and lots there was that harvest...I built
special grading shelves for my crop....Top shelf...would go the largest
for baking and boiling..next would be the perfect size for fritters and
chips....then came the in-between for the roasting...and then next were
the tenders for the boiling in skins.....and the last and bottom
shelve.......would go the seed tatties for the next year......
Onions ..to be cried over
these....lovely big fat succulent nippy juicy ones...eating raw..was my
pleasure...with cheese...or the frying in the pan ...mountains of onions
with liver and mashed potatoes...and the sweet taste of plump peas....
Neeps for the boiling and
then the chappin and the adding of butter..with the seasoning of salt
and pepper all mashed now...in the ashet and baked in the oven ..until a
sliver of charred butter appeared on the surface.....and the taste...
Likewise ..the cabbage was
dealt with in the same manner.... And so the bounty of my simple back
garden played a big part in the growing of my two fine boys..........
But....a strange thing
happened.....Something that I could never imagine....a simple stupid
act..but something to be always remembered by us in years to come....
Twas the night before
Christmas.......... And all around.. in our cozy wee house..things were
a brimming with the promise of the next days celebrations....
I had the turkey already to
be stuffed on the day, with my own secret ingredient, stuffing...I had
made my world famous trifle....to die for....
Everything was in the final
stages of preparation for the Lord's Birthday....
The Mass at Midnight was attended...and us four of a family, made our
way home under a cloudless sky....with a big moon and the endless
twinkling of stars....and footsteps crunching on the carpet of
reflecting crispy cold frost...the boys running ahead in wrestling
laughter..all slipping and jostling and smoky like winter breaths....
And so.. midst this
swaddling blanket of love we arrived home...... The hot milk was drank
and fruit pies went down a treat...and then we prepared for bed......but
..I had a last chore to do before tomorrow's
celebrations.... Tatties were needed for the dinner..and also some
brussels sprouts...... The boys brought the flashlights..and we went
into the back garden....In the steely cold of that night..I snapped the
brussels from off the stalks.....You can leave brussels staked out in
the cold frost nights....they deal with the freezing temperatures no
bother.....It's just a natural way of refrigeration...... So the next
thing was the tatties......
Under the light from the moon and the beams from torches of two
shivering boys..I opened the door of the shed.... The tatties were
there.. dried and protected from the light and frost....So I would have
a few of the boiling variety....and some for the roasting.....And the
boys begged me to hurry....for their teeth were dancing in the cold
night....
I looked at my choice of
tattie.......something was amiss......I had noticed this on previous
occasions.......I hoped it was not a blight of some sort...but there
were lots of pitted holes of sorts on them....almost like tiny bite
marks.....I showed them to the boys......No interest there.... So I
selected a few more ..and then prepared to go.....when my foot collided
with a small wooden box that lay in one corner of the floor.....Having
the boys play their beams on the box.....It was filled with a mushy
papery looking substance....Bending down...lifting it.......I felt the
scampering within...and in an inst... knew the reason for my imperfect-
skinned tatties.......
I felt a bit o' rage now
..and I carried the box to the shed step....Spilling the contents out..
brought the sounds of panicked squeakings to the ear...and from the
inside of that box...fell small, long tailed, father, mother and the
brood of near naked.. tiny field rodents...The culprits of the spoiling
of my tattie crop.....
I can still see them
now...in their small tiny panic...in their haste to escape my
anger.......
I looked up in satisfaction
into the eyes of my boys....
Jonathan the
Younger.....bonnie bonnie... in his blondness and his big blues popping
and swelling with the brimming tears.... Graham the Elder.....the lovely
dark of his serious eyes under the thick hood of chestnut locks....
Both with the same brotherly look of silent horror.....at the deed of
the father...
They looked from my eyes....
to the now empty box...each in his own thoughts.... The scene needed no
words......
From my impulsive and cruel
action.....I had become Herod....
Christmas Day came....the
feast was celebrated...and Comfort and Joy was the order of the
day....But on that feast weary night..when tucking my lads to bed...they
both asked...........Why... had I thrown the family of innocent
creatures out into the cold freezing...for the spoiling of a few tatties
?
That incident has long
gone......
In my eagerness for the
reaping ...from the ever generous earth....I missed an obvious... simple
rule....
I could never OWN the
land....Quite the reverse...IT owned me..... I was only given...for a
short number of years...the guardianship of a small stamp of an earth
plot.....to seed and enjoy the results of the seeding...........and to
share what I reaped..with others.....and that included....the animals
who shared my space.....
Išve since come to realise,
that the same rule applies to everyone that Išve ever loved and enjoyed
...... especially..my two boys..... Who taught me ..on that cold
December night.....with only the look of their innocent eyes into
mine...... Everything .....I now hold so dear.... |
