The Journal: Ash Fall (8 page)

“Why the frown?” I asked, puzzled at John’s
expression.

“I’m leaving in a few hours,” he stated.
“Promise me you won’t do all this wood by yourself.”

“I can’t promise you that. Look, I’ve been
doing these chores for years before you came along. I really don’t
mind.” He still had that look etched on his tanned face. “Tell you
what, I promise I will ask one of the boys to give me a hand, how’s
that?” It seemed to satisfy him.

It was a sad day for me, knowing John was
leaving, however, at least I knew what was coming this time. Until
then we had the day to ourselves. After that, even though, I would
be alone again, knowing he would be back lightened my heart. I
drove him back to the Eagle Beach house around 5:00 P.M., just
before the other guys from his team were due to show up after their
long flights back to Marquette.

CHAPTER 6

May 15

“I know this doesn’t exactly fall into
emergency management, Allexa, however, I was hoping you might give
me some ideas,” Anna said from behind her desk.

“About what?”

“The school, more specifically, the
teachers.”

“I know we only have ten students left and
just the two teachers now. Is there a problem?” I asked. I thought
I would have heard about it before now from Eric or Emilee. Emi
loves the smaller classes and has taken a real liking to her
teacher, Joelle Maki.

“Not really a problem, Allexa. I want to make
sure they get paid somehow. Only, a check won’t cover what they’re
doing, and besides, most of the school funding is from the state
and that’s been stopped.” Anna frowned, wrinkling her forehead.

“Emi really likes Joelle to the point of
sharing her lunch every day she’s there.” When Anna gave me a
quizzical look, I continued, “I pack Emilee a sandwich and two
cookies every day she goes to school. She’s been giving half of her
sandwich to Joelle. She said her teacher is always hungry and that
she can ‘hear her tummy rumble’.” I thought a moment about that.
“What if each child brings in some food, once a week, for the
teachers as a payment? Or maybe we could suggest the teachers get
invited to dinner, like the ministers of old?” I suggested. “When
the gardens and orchards are full, I’m sure fresh veggies and
fruits would be appreciated.”

“I think that’s a great idea, Allexa. If just
once a week, each child brought in two lunches, both teachers would
be fed every day.” Anna smiled. “I have a meeting with Joelle and
with Sheila Lehman this afternoon. I’ll get their view on it. You
know some of the kids won’t be able to do this. I know all the
families are having a rough go of it.”

“It’s worth asking opinions on. Maybe Joelle
and Sheila will have a suggestion of their own to offer.”

JOURNAL ENTRY: May 16

Early this morning I went to the ramp patch for some
greens to go with dinner, and it occurred to me I could be canning
this stuff for a delicious addition to a winter meal. I cut for
only a few minutes when I was attacked by a swarm of hungry
mosquitos. It must have been a new hatching since they were very
small. I dropped my bag and bolted to the car for the head-net I
keep in the car box. Thankfully I was wearing long sleeves and
always wear gloves to protect my hands. Those vicious little devils
were angry they couldn’t get to my face or neck, and were about to
drive me nuts with the buzzing around my head. I kept cutting the
greens until the bag was full even though the bulbs are still a bit
too small to dig up.

I soaked the ramps, then I lined the pint jars up on
the work island and started chopping, picking out any stray bits of
grass or twigs that I missed during the washing process and started
filling the jars. After the first one I remembered I would need
boiling water for filling the jars and set the big kettle on the
stove, filled with fresh spring water. With the jars full, I had
ten pints, not quite a full canner, and it was a good start. It’s
seventy minutes once the canner comes up to pressure, and I decided
as soon as I could turn the heat off for it to cool down, I would
go back for another, fuller batch. Besides, I had packed my dinner
greens in the jars and needed more for tonight. Today would be a
very productive day, and I smiled to myself at the surprise
everyone will get when I add these luscious greens to a rice pilaf
at Thanksgiving or Christmas this winter. That’s part of prepping:
doing, gathering, preserving in season for a later time.

* * *

May 17

I was just finishing a third batch of canning
ramps this morning, when Jason showed up carrying a scroll, which
turned out to be blueprints he had drawn on what appeared to be art
paper from the school. I remember the huge rolls on paper cutters
in our class when I was young, and doing a six foot long mural of
exotic birds. It’s odd what can trigger a memory. When the boys
were in high school, the curriculum was very lax. They could take
anything they wanted, with parental approval that is. I insisted
they each take four classes: Shop, Home Economics/Cooking, Drafting
and Typing. After that they had free choice. They have both thanked
me for those classes. Each of those four classes are practical,
useful and functional, and both Eric and Jason still use the skills
they learned. Jason had the knack and could have been an architect,
instead choosing to use his talents for hands-on building.

He unrolled the wide paper across the picnic
table, anchoring the edges with a few rocks from the driveway. I
looked over his shoulder at the drawings. He did a really nice job
of laying out an ‘L’ shaped room.

“What do you think, Mom?”

“What is it?”

“Your new greenhouse,” he said proudly. I was
dumbfounded. “John asked me to draw up some plans for your
approval. I guess he figured I would know what you wanted.”

“You better start with some explaining,
because I don’t know what this is about, Jason.” My eyes roamed
over the sketches, admiring the sharp angles and the steep pitch of
glass that would easily shed snow.

“Mom, John has contracted me to build you a
greenhouse. It’s going to be so much more. Look,” he said, pointing
to a spot on the sheet, “this is the basic growing area, which
faces south and wraps around the end of the house, here is the fish
pond at the apex of the ‘L’ where it’s more accessible to both
growing areas, and over here is the window herb garden … right next
to the summer kitchen and the second wood cook stove.”

Summer kitchen?

“And mounted on this side will be the solar
panels and a battery bank that will run the lights and pumps for
the fish.” He straightened up and smiled, like I had known this all
along. “Oh, I almost forgot. This side runs far enough along the
front of the house to encompass the door in the back pantry, so you
have access to the greenhouse without going outside.”

I was stunned. What had John done now?

“And when did all this sneaking around behind
my back take place?” As soon as I asked, I knew. John had hours of
free time when I went shopping that second day, enough time to
involve my son in his spending plans. No wonder he was so quick to
hang onto his higher pay rate. This was going to cost a bundle!

Jason pulled me along by the arm until we
were standing at the proposed corner of the house. He paced out one
direction, then the other. It looked huge to me. It was only eight
feet wide, and wouldn’t seem so large once closed in. He stopped by
the exit door near the pantry.

“I had forgotten your well is so close…” He
frowned in thought. “Say… I can do a small addition, like a mud
room, to enclose the well head. We need an airlock room anyway for
bringing wood for the cook stove.” He smiled broadly. “And I can
even hook up the hand pump to operate alongside the electric pump.
That way, if we lose power again in the winter, you don’t have to
run the generator for water unless you want to.”

I was more than stunned now, I was on the
verge of believing I was getting a greenhouse, a summer kitchen and
a well house, all rolled into one.

“When do you plan on starting?” I murmured
breathlessly.

“As soon as I make up a parts and lumber list
and can dig the footings.” I know Jason was just as excited about
doing this as I was. He has always loved a challenge and this
certainly will put him to the test.

I sat down in the kitchen with a cup of fresh
raspberry leaf tea, mulling over this new development. It would
have been so much easier on us this past winter if we had had this
greenhouse.

May 18

Jason was back this morning with the power
auger to start the footings. He sure isn’t wasting any time.

“Oh, I forgot to mention it yesterday. We’re
also doing something about the deck.”

“What’s wrong with my deck? I like it just
the way it is.”

“Mom, you’ve mentioned enclosing it a number
of times. I thought you might at least like a roof over it. I
thought a slanted roof to match what’s there, and to do it all in
light panels. That way it’s sheltered, and you still get 90% of the
sun effect. Besides, this was an important part of the project to
John. He said he got tired of shoveling out the generator last
winter.” Jason grinned. He knew I would cave if it was for John.
“The roof will only be a two day project and …” he looked sheepish,
“I’ve already ordered the new trusses and the panels, so you’re
stuck with it.” Sheltering the generator did make sense.

* * *

While Jason was working on the footings for
the greenhouse, I got started on splitting and stacking the rest of
the wood. I worked my usual hour on it, and then took an hour break
to do something in the garden. It was a beautiful day, and the sun
beating down on my back felt wonderfully comforting as I weeded
around the new seedlings. Digging up the rich soil, I made the
decision to put in some of the plants. I felt confident there
wouldn’t be a frost again until fall. The rest of the afternoon, I
divided my time between stacking wood and planting tomatoes. By the
time dinner came around, I was exhausted. I made a quick quiche of
ramp greens and fresh oyster mushrooms, and sat down to watch the
news. I almost wish I hadn’t. I guess it’s better to know then to
hide from the world.

There was a 6.4 quake in the Baja and a 7.8
further south on the coast of Mexico in a sleepy little village
that is now gone. It was leveled. Two hours after those quakes, one
hit in Puget Sound, sending a mini-tsunami over the break wall and
flooding Pike Street.

Just before I went to bed at 11:00P.M., the
power went out.

CHAPTER 7

May 19

Except for making my tea on the gas stove, I
really hadn’t noticed that the power was still out until it came
back on around noon. It’s so easy to get used to it being on and
almost as easy when it goes out. This was short lived and
overnight, many were likely unaffected by the outage. It made me
wonder if this was going to be a regular thing.

Jason stopped by to take a few measurements,
then headed to town for supplies, saying he’d be back in a day or
two when the footings had set.

* * *

It was late afternoon when I heard unfamiliar
voices out in the yard, and stepped outside to investigate. What I
saw surprised me: A family walking down the road, the woman pushing
a stroller and a tall man pulling a small wagon. When the man saw
me, he stopped, said something to the woman, and then approached
halfway up my gravel drive.

“Excuse me, Ma’am. My name is Max Johnson,
and this is my wife Lydia and our three kids,” he said, pointing
back to the family behind him. “We’re from Harvey and trying to get
to our hunting camp on the Mulligan. My car broke down in Marquette
a week ago and we’ve been on foot ever since. I’ve been doing odd
jobs for food and water along the way. I know once we get to camp
everything will be fine. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. It’s just that
it’s been two days since we’ve eaten and it’s been a very long, hot
morning.” Max paused, looking down and embarrassed. “Is there any
work I can help you with for even a little food?”

Anyone who was familiar with the Mulligan
Truck Trail referred to it just as the Mulligan, so I felt certain
this man’s story was true. He stayed a respectful distance away,
and his family stayed even further. They understood there were
boundaries to uphold.

I ventured down the drive to where he
stood.

“I’m Allexa, and I could use a hand stacking
wood. First I’ll get you and your family something to eat. It won’t
be much though. Why don’t you all come under the shade of the tree
where it’s a little cooler? You can use the picnic table.”

I went inside, calculating how much I wanted
to help. I set a large pot of water on the stove to heat, and
measured in three cups of regular grain rice, adding a couple of
seasoning packets for flavor.

“If you’re thirsty, there’s a water faucet
next to the garden,” I said once I stepped back outside. “I’m sure
you understand that I can’t invite you inside for security reasons.
The world is different now, so please don’t be offended.”

“We’re not offended at all! I really
appreciate just being able to sit in the shade without someone
running us off,” Max said. I was sure that had happened more than
once to them. Their clothes were a bit old, and worn and dirty from
days on the road.

Not wanting to use my personal glass bowls
outside for people I didn’t know, I went searching in the barn for
disposable ware from my catering days. I came out with a large
black plastic bowl with a thin clear lid, and some plastic forks
and spoons. It would have to do.

The three cups of rice once cooked, expanded
enough to fill the bowl, with some extra broth sinking to the
bottom. I set it on the wooden picnic table along with the plastic
spoons and forks. Lydia had the two older children washed their
hands in the cold water of the faucet before eating while the
infant in the yellow and white stroller slept quietly on.