The Sorrows
by Gary Fincke

Whatever the Sunday, the sorrows kept the women in the kitchen,
 My cousins and their mothers, my grandmother, her sister, all of them
 Foraging through the nerves for pain. They signed and rustled and one would
 Name her sorrows to cue sympathy's murmurs, the first offerings 
 Of possible cures: three eggs for chills and fever, the benefits
 Of mint and pepper, boneset, sage, and crocus tea. Nothing they
 Needed came over-the-counter through prescriptions not bearing
 A promise from God, who blessed the home remedies handed down
 From lost villages of Germany for the aunt with dizzy spells,
 For the uncle with the steady pain of private swelling; for passed blood,
 For discharge and the sweet streak from the shoulder. In the pantry,
 Among pickled beets and stewed tomatoes, were dark, honeyed liquids, 
 The vinegar and molasses sipped from tablespoons for sorrows
 So regular they spoke of them as laundry to be smoothed by the great iron
 Of faith which sets creases worthy of paradise. And there, when only 
 A hum came clear, they might have been speaking from clouds like the dead,
 But what mattered when the room went dark were the voices reaching into
 The lamp-lit living room of men who listened then, watching the doorway
 And nodding at the nostrums offered by the tongues of the unseen
 As if the sorrows were soothed by the lost dialect of the soul,
 Which whispered to the enormous ache of the imminent.

~ from The Fire Landscape: Poems
© University of Arkansas Press, 2008

I asked Mamabear last night what she wanted for Mother's Day. Mind you, it was already Mother's Day Eve at that point. I ended up working most of the day Sunday and she didn't get into town until 3 or 4...in years past, this certainly would not have stopped me from staying up late the night before to create something lovely (or at least something lovely in Mamabear's eyes) to gift her on Mother's Day. Maybe I've just gotten old and lazy. When asked the above question she first answered, "I can't really think of anything...just to spend some time with you." And then she thought for a few more seconds and said, "Would you help me plant some lavender up at our property?" I of course answered that I would, gladly. Or at least I hope that's what I answered...either way it was a "yes". :-)

So this morning Mamabear, Hank and I headed up river. At this point in time, Mamabear (and Papabear’s) property doesn’t have much on it – an old horse barn, a “tuff” shed that mainly functions as storage and a Clean Green Studio currently under construction. Mamabear and Papabear also have not yet moved onto their property. But Mamabear (and Papabear) have big plans for it (and the Rev and I have some plans for it next month). Many of Mamabear’s plans involve plants and trees.

The property is gated (not a fancy gate but a farm gate) and locked so when we arrived, I hopped out and removed the lock so we could head inside. We spent a good deal of time clearing away blackberries near the entrance to the property in order to plant a Star Magnolia in memory of our dear friend Brownie Criner who recently left us. In the process of clearing away these blackberries we “found” a nest of Bumblebees (and by “found” I mean that we must have stepped on it and woken them up – they didn’t seem angry, just a little confused and alarmed). I don’t believe I’ve ever actually seen “Baby” Bumblebees before so today was a first in that department – they are CUTE. Yes, a cute insect. I said it.

At some point during the process, though, I felt something a bit slimy and wet on my right leg and at first thought nothing of it. But when I reached into my pocket and felt part of an egg I immediately remembered breaking one of my rules – when collecting eggs from the chickens do NOT just stick them in your pants pockets or the front pocket of your sweatshirt but take them directly to a carton and the fridge. Needless to say, it was somewhat messy and as I had no way of cleaning it up at the time, I decided to simply remove my pants and wash them out a little and then let them dry. I admit, clearing blackberries in shorts and a tee shirt is not necessarily the best idea, but clearing blackberries in a tee shirt and underwear (and farm boots!) is even less so.

Because the property is not currently occupied, there are also no bathrooms, so I was availing myself of a nice spot beneath a large and lovely cedar tree (sheltered from both sides and behind) and joking with Mamabear about whether she was certain there wouldn’t be any visitors to the property today and suddenly a truck pulls up from within my parents’ gated property. I am literally caught with my pants down. Fortunately the cedar tree was sort of covering me and I was able to back up a bit as I realized that yes there was a stranger in a truck pulling up about 15 feet away from where I was peeing. Mamabear was making every attempt to draw attention away from the cedar tree while also wanting to hand me a beach towel she had in her truck. She kept talking to the man and finally just walked over and handed the towel to me. I emerged from behind the cedar tree with a somewhat sheepish grin and a green and white striped towel instead of pants.

I think that gentleman may have gotten a bit more than he bargained for by trespassing on the property this morning. I’m sure I’ll read about it in the local paper tomorrow. 

Happy Mother’s Day Mamabear. Thanks for always covering my ass.