Tomorrow will be the first day of July. It’s hard to believe that I’ve only been here for thirteen days. It seems more like thirteen weeks!
Ray’s truck is parked over by the large propane tank. A fine dust coats every inch of it. I guess I must have been in a deep sleep, because I never heard Bubba return from the mountaintop. I vaguely remember a dream from last night. It seems that trees were telling me stories. Mythological creatures lived deep inside the core of the trees and their stories were written symbolically in the grain after they were destroyed by mankind. I was the translator of these symbols and was held in a position of great importance for mankind and the lost language of the trees. It was a very strange dream and I actually woke feeling special, like I had a secret to share. Maybe that dream was inspired by the sight of the child’s bike that was swallowed by the tree. More than likely it was inspired by my affinity and empathy for trees.
Once again, as it was last Monday, the park is nearly empty. Bandito and Bonita are enjoying our walk through the park. I see the ducks floating lazily in the lake. They did not bother me this morning, so I guess Bubba fed them down at his place. There is a strong sewage smell emanating from the area between the restrooms and lake. The ground suddenly turns muddy beneath my feet. I look down to see sewage and bits of toilet paper bubbling up from a gaping hole in the ground and it is slowly flowing into the lake. I quickly pull the dogs away from the area. I can’t believe it! Is everything broken here! Children play here on the shore! Dogs and ducks swim in here! People fish here, and then eat the fish! Why in the world would there even be a chance of such a thing happening? Why would a sewage pipe even be near this lake? Perhaps too many holding tanks were emptied from all the trailers this past weekend. They have a pump house, but where does it pump it? Do all RV parks have this many problems?!
We walk back over to the main entrance and I tie the dogs to the porch railing. I go inside to the counter where Billy is ringing up a customer. After the customer leaves, I tell her about the sewage going into the lake. She yells for Bubba, as she walks over to the kitchen. I leave.
I take Bonita and Bandito back to the trailer, and give them both a good bath in the tiny shower area. While they dry in the sunshine in the fenced area, I play with my netting from the thrift store. There is more than enough to cover the entire canopy. It is definitely getting hotter as the days go by. I’ll bet it gets into the upper nineties today.
Bubba is over by the pump house. I have kept the sprinkler going all morning, and have moved it several times. My confidence on this lawn project has diminished since I have come to the conclusion that nothing goes as planned here.
I cut the netting in lengths that are the height of the canopy. I decide to use the bag of clothespins that I conveniently had packed in my car (I suppose to hang my laundry on trees while I lived out of a tent) to hold the netting together at the seams and rocks to hold the netting to the ground. This will make it nice for when Lori, Tiki, and the kids come to visit in a few weeks. We can enjoy our dinners out here, and the kids can draw or play at the table without getting bit by mosquitoes. I am almost done with my mosquito barrier, when I hear the tractor coming out of the forest area.
Ray drives the tractor over to my space, and Bubba drives the scooter over to talk to Ray. I can hear them discussing the pump problem. It looks like there are large bags of lawn seed sitting in the back of the scooter. Bubba walks over to turn the sprinkler off at my utility post.
“WHAT THE HELL KIND OF GIRLIE, GIRLIE THING IS THAT?” I suppose he is referring to my mosquito netting.
“I don’t know Bubba. What does it look like?”
“IT LOOKS LIKE BARBIE’S PLAY CAMP SET-UP.” I laugh, because he is laughing, not because he is clever or his comment is funny.
“You got it! That’s exactly what it is!” I say sarcastically.
“WUR GONNA START TURNIN’ THE SOIL NOW. I’LL BE SPREADIN’ THE SEED AFTER THAT. WE HAFTA KEEP IT WET FOR A FEW WEEKS TILL IT COMES UP. YA SHOULDA COME UP WITH ME LAST NIGHT. IT WAS FUN. YA MISSED OUT.”
“I’m sure I did. I’m glad you had a good time.” I quickly change the subject. “Bubba, could you dig a hole somewhere in this area? I’d like to plant a tree. I saw a nursery in Brandon, and I’d like to donate a maple or something like that to this lawn project. I notice there are not many other trees in the park besides pine and cottonwood. It would be nice for Billy and Ray to have a tree that changes color in autumn.”
Bubba is staring at me in a funny way and says, “TREES AIN’T CHEAP! BUT IF YA WANT TA PLANT A TREE, I’M SURE NO ONE WILL COMPLAIN.”
“Great! I’ll get one today!” I wave at Ray, who is sitting atop his rumbling tractor. He looks proud to be productive and useful, and waves back. Good, I have some place to go today. I don’t want to hear or watch the tractor going back and forth all day. My Suzuki has a wonderful trunk that opens up larger when the back seats are down. A five to six foot tree will lay in there just fine.
With Bonita and Bandito in the car, we leave the park. Ray has begun turning the soil. Bubba is working the dirt with a rake behind the tractor. The soil looks moist and rich. I doubt that I will be here when the lawn is green and the maple I’m about to buy changes colors, but I will leave behind an improvement and a memento of my presence here.
I return to Hacienda late in the afternoon. I had spent a couple of hours walking the creek and had the car washed in Brandon. The maple tree I found at the nursery is healthy, and stands about five feet in height. I can see as I drive to the fifth wheel that the lawn project has been completed. The tractor is nowhere in sight. Bubba has dug a large hole for me to plant the tree in. A tree that I will never see to maturity, but one day, it will shade this trailer from the burning sun.
The sprinkler is on, and I move it to a new position and then plant the tree. Mud hens are gathered nearby. I think they have discovered the fresh lawn seed to eat. I throw a few rocks in their direction to discourage them. They scatter, honking back into the lake disgruntled.
Vi is approaching me from the direction of the kitchen. “Denise! Denise! We need your help in the kitchen right away! A bus is about to arrive, and Billy would like you to help out for a couple of hours until we can get them fed, and out of here!”
Gosh darn it anyway! “I’ll be right there!”
Once I get to the kitchen, there is a feeling of urgency and confusion. Bubba is slicing roast beef. Billy is cutting up tomatoes, lettuce, and onions. Helen is filling up ketchup bottles. Geneva is making soup. No one is talking. Only simple commands are spoken. “Make hamburger patties!” “Get some salad plates goin’!” “Make sure the restroom has toilet paper!” “I need a new can of chili from the storage unit!” “Shuck some corn!” The line of seniors from the bus are now gathering at the meat counter, ordering, and then finding a seat. Several of them head straight to the restroom. We are bumping into each other in the kitchen. I do not make eye contact with Helen. I guess I am still mad.
An hour and a half passes and the bus finally pulls out of the park. Billy, who seems to take everything in stride, is lighting a cigarette at the grill, as I am about to go back to the trailer through the back door. I’m sure they can’t expect me to clean up this mess on my day off. She finally says something to me. “Ya know what they say ‘bout plantin’ a tree, don’t ya?”
I smile at her because I’m not quite sure what she means. “No, what do they say?”
“It means yur here to stay. Ya plant a tree when ya found yur home.”
“Oh, I’ve never heard that before. I just wanted you to have a tree to thank you for the lawn, and also, I thought it would be nice for you to have one that changes color in the fall.” I could never consider Hacienda RV Park my home!
“Yur somethin’ else Denise. Well, we thank ya for that. Have ya made up with Helen yet?” Billy should be asking if Helen’s made up with me yet!
“Am I supposed to make up with Helen?”
“I’d sure appreciate it if ya would. I need ya gals to all get along in here.”
Helen is looking over at me from the seating area. Billy must have given her the same talk. She starts walking towards me. I feel my heartbeat gaining momentum.
“Denise, can we go in back to talk?” Billy is watching us. I feel like a child in grade school.
“Sure.” I need a cigarette and I don’t even smoke.
“Listen, Denise, we need to work this out.”
“Helen, there is nothing to work out. If I am cooking, you do the dishes. Do you realize that I did not get out of the kitchen until around eleven o’clock at night?” I feel my adrenalin pumping again.
“I can’t do dishes Denise. I have a rare blood disease, and if I get cut, I’ll get an infection.” Helen whines.
“Listen Helen, as long as we don’t have to work together, we’ll be fine. I have nothing against you personally, but if we are forced to work together, then you do the dishes. End of conversation.” I am on the edge of saying things that I will regret later. I get up and walk away. It’s my day off.
Ray is leaning against his dusty truck that is parked by the propane tank, smoking. I stop to chat with him. He wants me to come over this evening to join them for dinner, and to tend to his wound care. I find that being with him and Billy is like being with family, so this is not a problem.
We talk about the new lawn, and I tell him about the mud hens eating the seed. He opens the truck door, and folds down the seat to retrieve something from the floor of the truck. He hands me the solution—a slingshot. I’ve never used one before so we go to the lake’s edge and he shows me how easy it is to use. It is amazingly accurate! Gosh, I only want to scare them, not kill them, but this is fun, so I’ll give it a try.
I move the sprinkler several times and from my picnic table I intermittently play with the slingshot. I’m not aiming at the mud hens or ducks, but off to the side of them, just close enough to frighten them back into the water. This slingshot is powerful enough to take their heads off. I put the slingshot away for the night when a stray, ninety miles per hour, stone comes within inches of a newborn mud hen who is learning to swim behind its mamma. I did not see them behind the bush I was currently aiming at.
I make a gin and limeade, and sit with my dogs inside the netted canopy to watch the sunset. It works! I can see mosquitoes clinging to the outside of the yellow netting. I am proud of my ingenuity. My insect repellent candle is also lit, to even further deter any mosquitoes from entering my Barbie set-up. I realize how strange my campsite with a fenced-in frilly looking canopy, must look to others, but I don’t care. It works just fine for me. I might even get a string of lights to go around the border to glam it up. I might as well go all the way on being eccentric. If there ever was a good time in my life to let go of any social concerns, it’s here and now.
I can see Bubba’s flaming fire pit as I prepare to head over to Billy and Ray’s. I’ll just hang out with them for an hour or so tonight. I’m in the mood to build a fire, and stare into it, until I’m ready to fall asleep.
Ray’s raw patches of skin are improving from the treatment I have been giving to him. Billy is very appreciative to me for this willing act of kindness. Tomorrow Ray will be driving the motor home that they traded for Little John’s debt to get it registered and also to have a few problems inside fixed. Ray’s friend, Jim, will follow Ray in his car, so that they can leave the motor home at the mechanic for the week that is needed to fix the problems. I suppose they are doing this in hopes that they can sell it and get some of their money back. God forbid that they take a trip in it!
I return to the trailer and build myself a fire. Bonita and Bandito are leashed up sitting by my side. The dancing flames are so soothing. It is reminiscent of my years in the old stone house in Carmel Valley. A wood stove was my only source of heat, even though it never got too cold in that part of California. In fact, the temperature never seemed to get below sixty degrees or above eighty, year round. I lived in paradise and leaving that house was like the death of a lover. I am still mourning the magical setting with acres of freedom.
I look down at Bonita and Bandito, leashed up, and feel so guilty. They never had to be leashed at the stone house. There was no traffic or mean loose dogs to worry about. The only dogs on the property were my landlord’s two dogs, and a neighbor’s dog. The six of us were a pack. I was the leader. We walked the river together everyday. Snickers, Sadie, and Nicolas would hear my car coming home from work and run to greet me ready for our walk. I would drop my purse inside the house, get Bonita and Bandito and we would run like the happy pack we were through the field of grass and purple lupine below my stone house and into the tree- lined river’s edge. The dogs would swim the river and explore and I would find stones, old Indian mortars, and lots of golf balls from around the world. The river flowed by one of the world’s most beautiful golf courses. Across the river were acres of corn, grown by Earthbound Farms, an organic company that began there. If it were past five in the evening, we would climb up to the golf course. It would be completely ours. The dogs would run like crazy across the rolling acres of pristine, rich, green grass. Little Bandito was always in the lead. He could run like the wind! One evening, when all the golfers had gone for the day, I walked right past Clint Eastwood having private time after hours with two of his bodyguards. I was slightly embarrassed for trespassing with five dogs, especially when Bandito nipped at the wheels of Clint’s moving golf cart, but he just smiled at the sight of all the dogs having fun and waved to me as he drove to the green. Such was the life I had known and adored.
My chest begins to tighten, and I sit by the fire and bittersweet tears of sadness and frustration drip softly to the dusty ground.