Earning My Keep

Yellow rubber boots, faded from years of sun and monotonous scrubbing, sat near the front door this morning. That could only mean one thing.  

Millette was going outside today. I could go outside today after being cooped up in the house throughout the winter months.  I wasn't allowed to roam in the cold, Millette just wouldn't allow it, but today, today just the sight of those old worn boots told me, my captivity was over. I could roam free and bask in the warmth that was Spring.  

I watched the door as Millette tugged on her boots and tied up her old blue apron, humming to herself. I would never understand why such an activity excited her so. She would spend the next few hours chopping up dirt, preparing the soil as she tells me, hitting tree roots and stones which she would then toss off to the side. One of those stones almost hit me last year.  

"Come along Darby!" Millette's voice was usually a soft whisper but today it was as if she sang every word.  She held the door open for me as I darted out running immediately to my favorite patch of grass just in front of Millette's little garden plot. She laughed as if my behavior was amusing and tugged on her worn cotton gloves, stained from decades of use.

Every year for as long as I could remember I sat there, watching as Millette worked herself into a dirty, sweaty mess, raking up the broken soil into five long even mounds. Once the soil was prepared, she would scoop out the dirt with a little metal cup, making perfect cup shaped holes evenly spaced across the mounds.  

She would then take a small break, heading back inside leaving me to my own devices. I mostly watched the birds in the nearby tree, always eyeing me as if my bulk was a threat to them. It's possible they remembered the year, I crouched, posed in the tall grass and upon hearing movement, the flit of wings, I snatched up an unsuspecting robin.  It was an exciting moment, though Millette didn't approve and ordered me to let the bird go.  

The little robin was okay, I'd merely startled her, but it was enough of an incident that the other birds steered clear from me from that moment forward. I didn't mind so much, I preferred to lounge in the soft warmth of the grass over anything that required energy. Millette called me Lazy Boy, always telling me I should try harder at earning my keep.  

Whatever that means.  

"Whatcha doing over there Lazy Boy?" Millette asked as if she knew what I was thinking. She does that alot, I don't even have to speak. "Have a sip of water you hear? It's a hot one today." She plopped the glass on the ground in front of me and pulled a seed packet from her dirt covered apron.  "Perhaps I should allow The Trio to roam?"

Oh no not The Trio! 

The mere suggestion had me rising from my cozy nest in the grass. Millette's precious chickens. Birds not to be reckoned with.  The hens, Lucy and Ethel carried themselves like Queens of the land, believing anything and everything belonged to them.  The moment she opened the coop door they ran straight to the garden, clucking and pecking at everything in their path.  Then came The Colonel, a crotchety old rooster, locking eyes on me immediately daring me to make any kind of move.   

"That's it girls." Millette cooed. "Get all those bugs away. Earn your keep." She started humming again as she tore open a seed packet and began to drop a couple seeds into the holes she'd made. I watched her for a moment then got distracted by the tinkling of the wind chimes near by.  

Millette had many hung up on nearby trees. Some barely made a sound, others were very loud with more of a clanging sound over the gentle tinkle and it took a pretty strong wind to get the largest chime to move.   Sometimes the squirrels would set them off, a clang followed by a high pitched barking from them as they scrambled away. I didn't see any squirrels today and when I went back to focusing on Millette she was covering up her seeds with the compressed dirt. Then she headed back inside for her seedlings, no doubt.  She grew some plants inside at the beginning of the season. Tomatoes and cucumbers, she says they're best as starter plants, whatever that means.  

Sure enough Millette came back outside carrying a a plastic tray full of plants about a foot tall and deposited them on the ground beside their final resting place before going back for a second tray. She tugged her old gloves from her apron, pulled them on and went right back to work.  I watched as she delicately pulled each plant from their cozy container and placed them in the ground, firming the dirt up around the base. One row she placed vertical baskets over each plant. Tomatoes I think? Once she was finished with that task she headed for the front door, turning back to look at me.  

"How's your water Darby?"

I glanced at the cup nearby just as Ethel dipped her dirty little beak into it. 

Contaminated by a feathered fiend, is how my water is!  

I moved to swat at Ethel and she let out a startled cluck that had The Colonel making a bee line in my direction. Thankfully Millette scolded him and shooed him away before he got to close. She proceeded into the house only to return minutes later with her rusty old watering can.  By old, I mean anceint. It belonged to her grandmother, a meaningful heirloom, a childhood memory brought to surface, Millette says. At one time it was a beautiful sea foam green, she says, but now after several decades of use, it was silver tin colored with mere specks of green. It was however the most important tool of the garden. She used it daily and diligently to water each of her precious plants.  

Weeks went by and Millette took on the tedious chores of her garden.  Pulling out weeds, watering each mound daily and sometimes adding what she called mulch. To me it looked like pure garbage.  Broken leaves and crushed egg shells. I never understood the point of it, but she claims it's an important process and the vegetables need it.  Never understood vegetables either. Rabbit food. That's was Mr. Millette used to say, but that man was always right along side her when she worked the garden, smiling, happy because Millette was happy. He went to sleep a few years ago and never woke up. She misses him dearly. Talks to his picture sometimes, just as she talks to me. I am her best friend, as she says.  

The lettuce was the first of what Millette called the harvest, to arrive.  She was very excited about it and had a bowl of it drizzled with an oil vinegar concoction she'd made that morning.  She offered me some but of course I declined with a up turned nose that made her laugh. She let the lettuce grow and cut it only when she wanted it for a meal which was just about every day.  The greens of the radishes had began to poke up awhile ago and about two weeks after the first lettuce harvest, they were now everywhere. Again Millette was excited and commented that she couldn't wait for the first cucumber to make her special salad.  She didn't pull those radishes until a few cucumbers were ready to pick and of course she set about making that salad.  

She tossed two cucumbers and a few radishes into a bowl with holes in and let cold water run over it for a few minutes, then peeled the cucumbers discarding the dark greens into an old ice cream bucket labeled, with a T.  She then cut the tops off the radishes, adding it to the T bucket before slicing each vegetable thinly. The slices were then layered in a bowl and sprinkled lightly with salt. A few minutes later, water had accumulated in the bowl and Millette strained it out.  In a mason jar, vinegar, oil, garlic and sugar were whisked into a dressing that Millette dropped the sliced harvested vegetables as well as some thinly sliced onion into. She referred to the onion as red.  Seemed more violet to me, though just about everything was.  

Millette sprinkled a dash of pepper into the jar then took her kitchen shears to cut some of the dill she had growing in her window along side many other herbs as she called them.  She clipped the dill into tiny specs adding it to the jar before tightening the lid and shaking the entire thing.  

After about an hour of letting the jar sit in the refrigerator, she made herself a bowl, ate it up with a satisfying sigh then emptied the rest of the jar into said bowl. She always ate the entire thing at one setting, I never understood why she just didn't eat from the jar so as not to dirty a dish. That bucket, labeled T? It went to the chicken coop for The Trio to munch on. They loved green stuff and Millette always saved it for them.  

Once the tomatoes were ready to pick, Millette would bring in an huge basket full, which she would then wash and boil until their skins came off.  Then she'd toss them in cold water and start setting out mason jars. She used mason jars for everything.  The jarred tomatoes were different then the special salad process.  These jars she boiled after they were filled and then placed on the counter. Within minutes the lids of those jars would emit an odd popping sound that scared me every time. Millette says that's the lid sealing and it's one of her most favorite sounds.  This process she claims is called canning, though I don't understand it as there are no cans in use. Maybe it should be called jarring?

The carrots were the last to arrive, though their greenery had been above ground for months. Millette says the longer they stay in the ground, the sweeter they are. I don't know about that as I don't eat carrots and really don't see why anyone would.  The Trio loved carrots, the green tops, the peels, the whole thing even. Some carrots didn't grow past a fingertip long and Millette handed those over to The Breakfast Club.  That's what I call them sometimes as that's their job, providing eggs for breakfast.  

One morning, Millette was out tending to her garden, picking what was ready and pulling weeds from where it was needed.  The Trio were clucking about, walking up and down between the mounds pecking at various bugs as those feathered freaks would eat just about anything.  I was as always, lounging in the grass, basking in the sunlight when I noticed Lucy out of the corner of my eye, staring around the bushy cucumber plant, hesitating in her actions, something she hardly ever did. The Colonel was occupied, snacking and Ethel was fighting a huge grub worm to its death. Millette was busy placing red tomatoes and some green ones into her basket.  

     Lucy's behavior had me curious as she hadn't moved for a few minutes, just stared behind the cucumber plants.  I watched her for a moment debating on whether I should have a look when ever so slowly, a white puff of fur crept from behind the bush, heading straight for the lettuce mound.  Lucy watched in curious wonder, possibly fear, as she had never seen such a creature before.  

I knew what it was and I knew what it was after.  The lettuce, the greens of the carrots, the radishes. Rabbit food.  The largest and possibly the bravest of any rabbit, moved slowly towards the mound, keeping it's beady little eyes only on Millette, having no fear of The Trio nor myself.  

Just as it began to munch on the lettuce, I let out a warning sound and it looked at me. Everyone looked at me. I darted for the rabbit and it dropped the piece of lettuce it was eating as I chased it into the backyard. I stopped when it ran out into the woods behind Millette's house as she's always told me it's not a safe place to be.  No worries. I'd done as I intended, chased off the moocher and saved Millette's precious vegetables.  

"Good Job Darby." Millette was ecstatic to see me when I came back around the house. "That was earning your keep!" I merely looked at her, just not understanding what that meant. "I'm gonna make you something special for supper." She said patting my head. "Got some catfish that needs frying, how does that sound?"

Like God's greatest gift to mankind.

Catfish was my absolute favorite thing ever in life.  

While I was certain she knew what I thought about that as she always did, I gave the reply I knew she wanted to hear.  

"Meow...." I circled her feet, rubbing my head against her ankles, purring loudly letting her know my approval was given.  

"You like the sound of that huh?" Millette scooped me up into her arms, cheerful pleased with me.  "My little kitty boy earning his keep...I'm so proud of you...."  She nuzzled me, rubbing her nose against mine.  

And all I could do was purr louder.