Simple instructions

With the first of two 60-foot rows of onions in the ground, I sent The Kid, who had just started with us a few weeks ago, into the greenhouse. The instructions: Bring me a bundle of onion sets for the next row. After a couple of minutes, he came back … with a turtle shell in his hand.

“Brian, do you think Cindy wants this?”

“No,” I replied, “you can have it.”

“Cool.”

“By the way, did you get the onions?”

“Oh, good lord,” he said.

Sometime later, after running a string to guide our hand, we had the second row planted. Donning my best mentor hat, I said, “It’s nice to step back from good work and appreciate what you have accomplished.” He stepped back and agreed, it looked good.

Gesturing toward his feet, I pointed out, “You’re standing on the onions in the first row.”

“Oh, good lord,” he said.

We headed out to one of the pig paddocks. The occupants had just gone to the processor, and the space needed cleaning up. Our first task was to roll up the electric wire. To do the job, we used a giant spool, much like an oversize fishing reel. And just like with the spool of fishing line, it is very easy to make a mess in quick order if you aren’t paying close attention. The more failsafe task is to unhook the electric wire from the plastic insulated posts. So, I had The Kid start with that part of the project.

After a couple of minutes of watching him try to unhook the line from the first post, I got tired of tapping an impatient foot unnoticed.

“Here, you turn the crank, I’ll unhook the wire. But, be careful. Watch the spool and don’t make a mess.”

A few minutes later, I looked behind me. The Kid was merrily cranking away, a large bird’s nest of tangled wire ballooning out of the spool.

“Hey, look what you are doing!” I barked.

“Oh, good lord.”

Later, while we were putting away our tools, I lectured in my most teacherly voice:

“You know, Kid, there are times out here when I might yell at you. Don’t take it too hard. I just want us to get stuff done. And on those occasions when I get exasperated, you will know to either listen up or move faster. It is like with your parents — they yell at you because they care and want you to just pay attention. You know how that is….”

He looked puzzled.

“My folks have never yelled at me.”

“Oh, good lord,” I said.