The Patch

The old green Ford rolled to a stop on the gravel driveway in front of the clap board house as Derrick opened the driver’s side door with a creak to exit the pickup. The late July afternoon was already hot and humid, making his work shirt stick to his back with sweat and the first thing he wanted as he walked towards the front door was an ice cold beer. The day had been a long and trying one at the city school board where he did his time as a maintenance worker to make a ‘living’ as he jokingly called it. Over worked and under paid was the actual truth of the matter. He put the key in the lock as he let himself into the house, praying that no one else was home. Grandkids running, screaming through the house was the last thing he wanted as he made his way to the refrigerator to grab a cold one. It looked as though the gods were with him today as he took his first swig, noticing the comforting silence around him. His eyes wandered through the kitchen window to come to a rest on his garden in the side yard. I need to get out there and weed that damn thing today he thought to himself.

His ‘patch’, as he lovingly called it, was his way of stress relief after dealing with the idiots at the school board all day. He recalled one instance from earlier in the day that got his blood pressure up, that imbecile of a superintendent who tried to tell him how to fix the roof of the elementary school by reading to him out of a book. What a jackass. And he don’t even know how to fix a roof, he fumed. Finishing off the beer, Derrick headed for the bedroom where his guns were locked in the safe to collect his .357 Magnum. After strapping on his holster and sliding the gun into the worn leather, he turned for the backdoor to pick up the hoe for the weeding and a bucket. 

The grass crunched a little under his work boots as he made his way out to the garden. The summer this year had been dry already and it wasn’t even August yet. Virginia was always in a drought in the summertime but this year was especially bad. They hadn’t had a good rain in two months. He looked at the vegetables that had started producing already. The tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, potatoes, corn, and okra were doing well but the cantaloupes and watermelons weren’t coming along as well as he hoped, due to the drought and the fact he hadn’t got them started as early as he should have, mentally kicking himself in the ass for that one.  

Derrick dropped the bucket as he reached the edge of the garden where it would sit until he completed his weeding chore. The hoe dragged behind him as he entered the south-eastern corner of the patch where he had his tomatoes tied up in 36 inch high teepee shaped stakes. He admired the way the tomato vines wound their way up and round the wooden supports, climbing higher every day with their little and delicate yellow blooms.  Lower on the same vine were different sized tomatoes that ranged from green to red as they matured and became ripe. His eye caught the beginnings of grass that was poking its head through the dirt within the tomato ‘ring’ which was the buildup of dirt around the tomatoes where he would water the plant. He quickly hoed the offending grass out of the ring and started inspecting the plant for any signs of decay, yellowing or bug bites but the Osmocote fertilizer and Sevin Dust looked like it was doing its job.

After hoeing and inspecting the tomatoes and cucumbers for a while, Derrick moved on to scrutinize the okra. Okra wasn’t something that he grew every year and he took his time with the prickly vegetable. The white hibiscus-looking blooms were decorating the tops of the plants as he made his way down the aisle, with the tender young shoots thrusting upwards towards the sun. They were perfect for picking and would make for a skillet full of fried yumminess. 

The sun still felt as hot as it did at its zenith, making the sweat drip off his nose. Derrick stopped his laboring and straightened up, pushing his right hand into his lower back to ease some of the pain that had become apparent after tolling for more than an hour. He removed his baseball cap and wiped the sweat from his brow with his camouflage bandana. Damn it’s hot he thought. He heard a car coming up the road and turned to see two people drive by, openly staring at him wearing his gun. Good, maybe they will pass the word along that no one should trespass on this property. His neighbors understood why he wore his gun and were appreciative of it, with all the break-ins that had happened in the area. It’s beer thirty anyway, I need a break. He turned back towards the house for a much deserved frosty beverage and on the way he took a moment to look at the Virginian Mountains in the distance, and enjoyed the fact that he lived in the country. 

“Derrick!”

As he turned towards the sound, he saw his neighbor stopped on the side of the road in front of his house waving him over. 

“Hey Red, how are ya?” Derrick said as he reached the pickup truck.

“Good, good.” Red replied. “I see you’re back in the garden.  Anything ready for pickin’?”

“Yeah, I got some tomatoes and cucumbers and okra ready, corn should be ready next week. You’re more than welcome to have some if you want.”

“Great, I’ll be over this tomorrow to pick some if that’s ok. The wife has been wanting to start canning.”

“Sure thing, not a problem, just take what you want. I’ve got plenty.”

“Thanks.  Mary will send over a few jars of whatever she puts up I’m sure. See ya tomorrow.” Red said as he put his truck in gear and pulled away. Derrick watched for a moment as Red’s truck belched out a cloud of black smoke as he changed gears. That truck needs some help he chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He resumed his walk to the house and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. He popped the can open and relished the cold liquid running down his throat. 

Derrick turned, threw the empty beer can into the trash and picked up a paring knife from the dish drainer in the kitchen sink and walked back out to the garden, stopping to pick up the bucket at the edge of the patch. Walking down the okra aisle, he paused at the first plant to start cutting the young shoots and placing them in the bucket, appreciating the pretty flowers that were blossoming on the tops of the plants. He filled the five gallon bucket half way up by the time he had harvested the two rows. Next, he moved on to the tomatoes, saving the cucumbers for tomorrow. He started with the Big Boy’s, knowing that one slice would cover a whole piece of bread. That started him thinking about a ‘Mater sandwich and his mouth watered, realizing he was getting hungry. Then he picked some Roma tomatoes and followed up with the ripe cherry’s that go great in salads. 

As he left the garden and made his way back to the house he could see the sun beginning to sink in the west, just touching the top of Windy Gap Mountain. Thankful that he had a garden, it dawned on him that he felt relaxed and hadn’t thought about work in the past two hours. He turned one last time to look at his vegetable patch, admiring the way the dying sun painted the plants with gorgeous reds and pinks and oranges and was appreciative of this time of year where he could grow veggies that had wonderful flavors, thinking that fresh tomato sandwich wasn’t going to make itself.