Posted by Elizabeth

Sometimes things don’t turn out like we plan.

It looks so bucolic, doesn't it?

As much as I love trying new things I hate being disappointed, so I sometimes avoid change to steer clear of the frustration that might flow from a plan gone awry.  It was, therefore, a big deal when I took the plunge and committed to an eight-week volunteer assignment at the organic farm; unfortunately, it has not turned out as I had planned.  The job itself is fine — it’s the other volunteers I can’t stand.  Instead of meeting cool, interesting, like-minded 30-somethings, as I had hoped, I pass the time in the company of matronly know-it-alls.  A few weeks ago we found ourselves in the baking Southwest sun, hoeing weeds from a desolate patch of land. P., one of the newest members of our crew, was visibly disappointed by the task at hand.  Every five minutes she made a passive-aggressive comment, expressing her thinly-veiled disgust of the project.  “Boy, these hula hoes sure are dull. I bet this would be easier if the blade was sharpened.”  I didn’t even know that hoes had proper names, but I took an immediate dislike to the “hula hoe,” as it sounded like it belonged not in a garden but at a luau.  When P. is not complaining she’s taking a break, covering for the fact by generously asking us, “Anyone need anything while I’m up?”  Like she’s doing us a favor.

Who knew these guys could be so complicated to harvest?

The worst offender is V., an uber-volunteer who has a “special agreement” where she works twice a week throughout the year (most work-share volunteers only serve once a week during the growing season).  She doesn’t let us forget her special status, which entitles her to boss around her fellow volunteers, as well as any intern she doesn’t particularly like.  She will advise you, in excruciating detail, on the proper technique for pulling a weed or picking a tomato.  The simplest tasks are easily elevated to multi-step processes.  I am very skittish around V., afraid that I will do something wrong (which I invariably do).  But while V. is absolutely Type A, she desperately wants to give the illusion that she’s super laid back, accepting, and easy going (this is a woman whose car has a bumper sticker that simply states, “Coexist.”). We were recently transplanting kale starts from the greenhouse to the field, and the intern in charge of the project, who was obviously on V.’s bad side, had instructed us to dig a hole where a machine had already pre-marked the spot, making sure to place the plant where the soil was wet, indicating a water line.  But she forgot to tell us to loosen the roots a bit before placing them in the soil, which is where our drama begins…

ACT 5, Scene 2
Setting:  8:22 am, in a wide, open field somewhere in the American Southwest

V:  “You guys, it’s really important that you loosen the roots at the bottom of the plant before placing them in the ground.  Because it promotes faster growth.  You see?  Here, I’ll show you how to do it.  Okay, you just need to pinch the roots here at the bottom.  Just shake the roots loose a little bit.  It’s really important that you do this.  You just need to pinch them.  That’s all.

Elizabeth:  Mm-hmm.

V:  And we really need to make sure we’re doing this guys, okay?  It’s really important.  And make sure you’re placing the plants where there’s a water line.  Because sometimes the machine doesn’t get the hole quite right and you need to move the hole a little bit.  Like, I’m finding that the water line is a few inches closer to me than the hole.  So you just need to dig around for it.  But first you need to remember to loosen the roots, okay?  It’s just a reminder.

Elizabeth:

V:  I realize that I’m being kind of bossy this morning, which I’m feeling bad about.

P:  Oh no you’re not.

V:  It’s just that it’s really important that we loosen the roots and make sure that it’s planted on a water line.  Because we could kill a whole row of plants.

Elizabeth:

V:  I mean, I’m not an intern, so I’m not trying to direct things here, but I just know how particular they’re being about planting this year.  I’m not trying to seek approval or anything.  It’s just that I’ve always been a teacher and I like to get things right, you know?  I don’t know that much about gardening, but I do know how important it is to loosen the roots.

Elizabeth walks over to the palette to gather more starts to place in the ground.

V:  DON’T do those yet.  They’re a different variety.

Feeling like a chastised four year-old, Elizabeth silently walks the other way, rolling her eyes in giant circles, praying for the morning to end.

<<END OF SCENE>>

I realized that it’s hard for me to be around V. because I see a glimmer of myself in her; the really awful part that I try to deny is there.  I’ve worked hard to be someone who doesn’t act from a place of seeking approval, to squash the know-it-all tendencies that I suspect are lurking just below the surface.  I’ve diligently erased the person who micromanages her environment.  I secretly fear that the hypocritical quality that irritates me most in V. – the control freak who is trying desperately to appear so go-with-the-flow – is the very thing I dislike most about myself.  My time at the farm has been an exercise in fighting the urge to one-up V., something I’m really good at if given the chance.  Although it hasn’t turned out as I had hoped, I’m digging in and making the most of my final two weeks.  Last week I avoided P. and V., gravitating towards the interns who, as it turns out, are the cool thirty-somethings I thought I’d find in my fellow volunteers.

As for those kale plants?  They sprouted just fine.