I'VE FALLEN . . .

We went to the farm on Sunday, June 23, and spent a wonderful week there. I think we both hated to come back to town, especially since it’s hot here. But then, it’s hot there, too, and the advantage in town is air conditioning.

But -- this is about Sunday, the 23^rd. It was pleasantly cool, and we had set off for the late afternoon family walk, only Bess didn’t want to go, so Mike stayed behind with her while Nellie and I went on.

Down the lane and up to Plank’s we went. And at Plank’s old home site, an SUV and trailer were parked so as to block the road. A man and woman were working there at the drive – you know, where the wild rose is overgrowing the lilac under the old pine tree, and both are overgrowing an antique farm machine. The man had a weed eater and a chain saw.

“What are you doing?” I asked, hopefully keeping a light, friendly tone in my voice. I figured that since he had blocked the access to my house I had the right – and the duty -- to know what he was doing.

He told me that he was the grandson of the previous owner and that he had obtained permission from the present owner to take this piece of equipment.

I observed that this would be a tough job.

The man agreed. The rose and the lilac had grown up through the machinery, he said, and it was difficult to extract it. Small talk ensued for five or ten minutes. Later, through discussion with Harriet, I came to realize that this man was actually the great-grandson of Charlie and Ada Plank who were still farming here in the ‘50s. Because the generations are long in my family, sometimes I’m startled to learn just how many generations other families work into the same time frame. 

Then I walked on up Plank’s Pitch but could see no sign of Nellie and concluded that she must have returned to the house, probably impatient with me and also concerned when she didn’t see Mike. So, I turned around and headed back down Plank’s Pitch. Coming around the curve, I could see Mike on the other side of the SUV talking with the couple there, and I guess I was watching the people rather than the road. Near the bottom, I turned my left ankle – probably on one of those rather large rocks -- and fell forward. I caught myself with my hands, but the jolt to my system, the pain, and the downhill of the road were enough to make me feel I was glued to the spot. The Plank descendant was the first to reach me, but I didn’t get up until Mike applied more forceful support.

Nellie had indeed gone back to the house and Mike was concerned enough about me that he rode out on his dirt bike to see what had happened to me. Of course, the road was blocked by the SUV and so he stopped to visit. But at least he had the dirt bike and was able to ride me back to the house.

As we rode off, the woman called, “Drive careful,” which struck me funny since I sustained injury while WALKING. However, I suppose one might think that if people fall while walking they might also be hapless while driving.

Anyway, I recovered quickly from my bruises though I hobbled a bit for a week. I was motivated, however, to get back up to Plank’s and see “the damage,” as it were. The man had freed the machine from the bushes but then he obviously couldn’t lift it.

But I made a wonderful discovering. A beautiful rose grows there in the tall grass that I had never noticed before. It doesn’t look like a wild rose either. We plan to take a cutting or transplant part of it this fall. KW