Hawthorn Hill Journal by Richard DeRosa

To Cut or Not To Cut Back?

For some time now, we have been wrestling with this issue: how and where to start cutting back. We have spent so much time and energy building up the place that contemplating a slow-down is wrought with a host of conflicting feelings. So, what is the hold up? Habits are hard to break. And a reluctance to admit to ourselves that our energy levels are not what they used to be… Yesterday, while driving the tractor up the hill, now fully loaded with gardening tools, supplies, etc., I stopped by the three topless satellite poles that have been bugging me ever since getting the fiber optic hookup we have been waiting for what seems like forever. Well, I thought, since I am here and have what I think are the appropriate tools, why not dig up just one pole? Two hours later, sweat dripping from my forehead and through my flannel shirt, shoulders and arms pleading for a respite, I gave up the ghost. The lesson learned: yeah, you feel pretty robust, still, but you ain’t the same guy who could work at stuff like this from dawn to dusk and actually not feel anything but satisfaction with few minor aches and pains.

The most effective way of cutting back is by listening to your wife, always a good idea. It is just a question of letting the male invincibility instinct take a break. Seeing me looking pretty bedraggled, Sandy suggested leaving the last two poles in and turning them into bluebird nesting box poles. Great idea, I said. Why didn’t I think of that? No reason to state the obvious here. This scenario has played itself out many times over the past 52 years. One needs to come to grips, and it is so very hard, with, well, reality… It should not be so hard. As one who sees himself as somewhat stoical, in the philosophical sense, I ought to be better at this sort of thing. By that I mean accepting one’s naturally ebbing stamina. We pride ourselves in doing what is necessary to stay in good physical condition. Been pretty successful at that. Just can’t do the dawn to dusk thing anymore. The tradeoff, and it is a good one, is spending more time on cerebral pursuits, like what I am doing right now—writing.

On some Saturday’s, I walk with a good friend. We start out by walking down the hill and, as we pass the vegetable gardens, I opine that this will be the year we cut back. We have two gardens, upper and lower, each about the same size. I have experimented with multiple varieties of everything for as long as I can remember. I did cave some years ago and agree that upwards of 20 kinds of lettuce might be a bit much. I’ve always been drawn to the seductive names of exotic French and Italian varieties. One approach, which makes sense, is to just plant one garden. There is ample space in either garden to provide for the two of us. Planting more over the years worked because our kids and their kids visited more frequently and they always drove away with plenty of produce. And we could share what we did not need with friends.

Gardening is a labor of love, but over time the labor part trumps the love part—knees ache faster, arthritic digits stiffen, lower backs get creaky. We are committed to sitting down and making the hard cuts. We no longer need the quantities we’ve become accustomed to. Fortunately, our berry bushes and fruit trees do not require inordinate amounts of attention—they pretty much take care of themselves. Toward late winter I did finally get around to pruning most of the apple trees. We’ll see how good I am at that! We also pruned many of our blueberry bushes, having put that off for way too many years. Yields will most likely be down, but even then we’ll have enough for our modest needs. Actually, procrastination can be a tenable adjunct to any workload reduction program. Just can’t let things to get too messy. There are aesthetic standards to maintain.

With respect to a smaller garden, a plan that we stick to might be the answer. I claim to have crafted some plans over the years, but I’ve never actually followed any of them. My inclination is to fill every available space, which is fine if you want a jungle rather than a well laid out, easy to maintain vegetable garden. Even as I write this, meaning every word, the idea of sticking to a pre-determined plan gives me the willies. Therein lies the problem. I have never felt like my natural self when constrained by reason. Cramps my style.

Of my many questionable proclivities, among the most obvious, is my preference for the philosophical over the practical. Philosophically, one can argue quite convincingly in favor of a particular way of being or seeing the world. Or, one can just get down to brass tacks and suggest that the most efficient way, for instance, of cutting back is, well, to cut the crap, make a plan, and stick to it. Where’s the fun in that? Considered philosophically, such an approach is a drag, stifling. In closing, I can see that I face the same conundrum that I started with. So be it.

Dick deRosa’s Hawthorn Hill essays have appeared in “The Freeman’s Journal” since 1998. A collection, “Hawthorn Hill Journal: Selected Essays,” was published in 2012. He is a retired English teacher.