June 12, 2020
Review, Edit and Update:
Vineyards, Orchards, and Bees takes us out of the very narrow lives that Dez and Emmie have had to live due to Covid19 restrictions.
Punctuation repaired; sentence structure improvement, page break added for the last paragraph.
Vineyards, Orchards and Bees
The garage smelled dusty, with just a faint odour of motor oil. Giles always loved coming into this garage. A garage used only for the three Estate vehicles. His garage had barely enough room for one vehicle. Boxes full of long forgotten treasures, old skates, shoes and skis, plastic cartons full of toys for babies and toddlers. There was even a beautiful carved-back wooden chair hung up on one wall like a Christmas ornament. Old bicycle tubes waiting to be patched. At least three boxes labeled 'Christmas'. Fingerprints on layers of dust that coated everything including the tiny window over the ancient workbench where a drill press was attached. He and Melanie had two vehicles. The only one that could park in the garage was his wife’s little car. It was always a squeeze to get out of it. The little mauve Toyota Echo faithfully took Melanie to her teaching job everyday. With all the schools closed, the ‘poor dear’ sat quietly waiting for the engine to be started up again. Giles smiled at the gentle way Melanie spoke of her car. ‘Well she’s my little friend, Giles. Don’t tease me.’
But the Estate cars ~ each with their own sign hanging from the garage roof by slender bronze chains: A sleek metallic bronze Jaguar. ~ A shining black Lexus ~ The deep red Silverado SUV. All were relatively new, purchased the year before Mister Michael passed away. Mrs. Beaufort had had no interest in the purchase or care of the cars then or in years past. She was extremely fortunate that Digby had hired Giles. Giles, who drove an eighteen year old Honda CRV, was not just a chauffeur, but a mechanic. He kept the cars in good running order, trouble shooting any problems. When it came to the computerized functions of these cars, he happily passed that skill over to the experts.
A polished solid oak workbench stood in the far corner of the garage. In it, Giles kept motor oil, vehicle shampoo and polish, extra windshield wipers, as well as polishing cloths. Any tools were kept in very strict order. Before even checking the fluid levels and tire pressures, using two polishing cloths, he gently wiped the dust from the Lexus and the Jaguar. Many times Giles felt that he in a show room, rather that a garage.
The SUV, however, was not in the garage, but parked at the back door. It had been recently washed and when he checked the levels they were all topped up. The tires had been appropriately inflated. Giles was impressed. Mrs. B. has been taking good care of this young lady. Giles, unable to see his employer within sight, poked his head in the back door and called out. “Anyone home? Mrs. Beaufort?……..Mrs. Beaufort?” When there was no answer, he looked around the yard again. She must be upstairs or out in the orchard. I wonder whether her sister has a car. They may not even be on the property right now. He patted the SUV on the hood as he passed, whistling his way to the garage and the two beauties within.
~~~~
Dez and Emmie, in Dez’s car, had gone exploring the country side. Being isolated gave them cabin fever. Expanding their horizons, but keeping within the Estate grounds or into Dez’s apartment felt quite exciting to begin with, but their restlessness grew. Outside of Hartley, Dez showed Emmie a part of the country she had never seen before. The closest she had come to being in any rural area besides her own orchard was when Giles drove her to the airport or to the ferry. “Dez, this is wonderful! I know what apple trees look like, but what are those? Are those grape vines?”
“Of course Emmie, haven’t you ever seen where your wine comes from?”
“Well of course I’ve seen beautiful glossy photos in magazines and on some of the bottle labels. So I do know what they look like, but when usually in full leaf. I haven’t seen them this early in the spring, like they have arms that stretch out linking each other all down the length of each row. I don’t suppose we could talk to the grape grower?”
“Let’s stop and ask. There’s someone working on the vines over there.” Dez kept her hands on the wheel and pointed towards the passenger side of the car.
“I see him. Let’s just go over to the fence and talk from a distance. I'm leaving my jacket in the car. That man is only in shorts and a sleeveless shirt. His big straw hat is wonderful.”
Pulling over into a field entrance, Dez parked the car. Traffic on the road was practically non existent, but they walked quickly across to the vineyard, shading their eyes from the glare of the sun. In the springtime silence, songbirds trilled and warbled from trees next to the vineyard. The occasional cry of a seagull punctured the air. Even Emmie’s voice lifted up and away to a cloudless sky.
“Excuse me sir. I am so interested in what you are doing. I’ve not seen vineyards at this time of year. “
“Well ma’am, before they leaf out, I check to see if there are any suckers at the base of the buds. That’s what I’m doing now. But there’s a whole more lot to taking care of all the vines. If I had time today, I’d invite you in and tell you a bit more, give you two ladies a tour.” The grape grower nodded and returned to his work.’’
“Emmie, looks like he’s done talking. I’ve another reason for bringing you out here. There are more orchards farther down the road with something I’d like you to see. The orchardist knows we’re coming.”
“What is it Dez? I love this adventure! Thank you. Thank you. It’s like I’ve been let out of a cage that I didn’t even know I was in. I know when we were kids we did this sort of thing, but I got so caught up in ‘the good life’ and then my grief, that I had forgotten how wonderful the countryside can be.”
“Here we are.” Dez turned the car into a long driveway lined with old elm trees. “This orchard has several different fruit trees, but it’s not the fruit trees we’re here to see. ……Hi, Matt. This is my sister, Emelina Beaufort. She has a small apple orchard. I’m taking on a beekeeping project for the orchard. I wanted to show her your beehives so she could see what kind of project she has approved for it.”
“Hi Dez ~ can’t give you a hello hug or even shake your hand." Matt, tanned and fit, smiled warmly at Dez. "We’ll just keep our distance and be friendly anyway. Hello, Mrs Beaufort. I know of the Beaufort Estate. I assume you are that Mrs. Beaufort?”
“So pleased to meet you, Matt. Yes, I am that Mrs. Beaufort, but please. Call me Emmie. So you have beehives?”
“Yep. Follow me…………
~~~~~
Emmie and Dez learned more that afternoon about bees and beekeeping than they ever knew existed. In the car again, driving back to the Estate, they discussed all the benefits that bees could bring to the apple orchard. A jarring reunion of these sisters on a night frightening and hopeless, their lives had become companionable and full of promise. Their mutual need and fragmented history seemed at the very root of their ability to thrive.
“An apple tree is just like a person. In order to thrive,
it needs companionship that’s similar to it
in some ways, but quite different than others.”
~ Jeffrey Stepakoff
Pulling over into a field entrance, Dez parked the car. Traffic on the road was practically non existent, but they walked quickly across to the vineyard, shading their eyes from the glare of the sun. In the springtime silence, songbirds trilled and warbled from trees next to the vineyard. The occasional cry of a seagull punctured the air. Even Emmie’s voice lifted up and away to a cloudless sky.
Early morning wakening,
