“You’re going to do … what?” he’d say.

Hugelkultur, I’d say. It’s where you bury branches in the garden bed. It’s cool. I read about it. The branches rot, just like they would on the forest floor. You know, how in the woods it’s spongy and damp all the time. So your planting bed is always moist deep down.

“Crazy,” he’d mutter.

Then he’d remind me of the horseradish that was supposed to repel potato beetles. Mother Earth News, c. 1980. Next he’d bring up the potatoes-grown-under-hay fiasco. Organic Gardening Magazine, say, c. 1983. Don’t bother checking. I just made up those references. It doesn’t matter. He always won the argument by pointing out the virtual horseradish plantation that’s infested our garden and by reminding me of the potato-less year when the mice feasted under the hay all summer.

So why did I so enthusiastically throw branches, small logs, and the sheets of bark shed by our giant, deceased oak tree into my newly-dug garden bed? Because my husband isn’t here to mutter and remind me of my past gardening gaffs?  Maybe. Am I stretching my wings to their full extent for the first time in decades?

Definitely yes. And we definitely did not have a marriage where he held all the power. Nor did I. We actually listened to each other. If, for instance, I was too forgiving of one of the boy’s escapades, he might vehemently disagree. We’d argue our points back and forth, and eventually, whatever decision we reached was mutually acceptable. Not sure if it was to the boy in question, but that was the point.

I generally was more expansive in my ideas, he the one to rein them in, and that was a good balance. I’d grown up secure and loved in the bosom of a warm, nuclear family. He’d been the last illegitimate son of a woman who couldn’t see beyond her own needs. Money was tight and love, at least from her, was absent.

What a pair we made! It took us a good decade or two to even begin to understand why the other acted the crazy way he/she did. Thinking about it on this, the first warm day of spring when getting into the dirt is all that’s on my mind, I realize that many of our early battles were fought in the garden. It started the day I brought home a rented rototiller in the back seat of my brand new Saab 96. And ripped the upholstery trying to get it out. He couldn’t believe I’d do such a stupid thing. It wasn’t our first fight and wouldn’t be the last by a long shot, but it certainly was emblematic.

If I’d been reading these articles about the months following Wally’s death, I’d want to find out that things are getting better, easier, that I’m getting over it, because that would mean that you, when your turn comes, will get over it.  Sorry.

Well, yes and no. Things are getting better. The events of his death are receding. I still tell the story of his last days at home, the story of how he died, to anyone who’s willing to listen. I tell it reflexively as people do recount a traumatic event, over and over again. Telling it makes it real, makes it possible to live with it. I’ve listened to many such stories myself – listening is one of the best things anyone can do for the grieving. But in the telling it becomes more mythic, formulaic almost. I emphasize some details, leave others out. My version of the story is so deeply embedded now, that I wonder if my family, who were there every step of the way, would recognize it.

So as the events recede, the empty house becomes almost comfortable a lot of the time. The first morning that I didn’t peek around the corner into the room where his ashes sit, where I’ve silently told the box good night and greeted it in the morning, almost felt like a betrayal, as if I’d forgotten him already. A friend, on hearing this, showed me a tattoo he’d gotten the day his brother died. Every morning and night he rubbed oil on it, a ritual of sorts. Then – same story – one morning he forgot.

What’s left is what’s not here – him. The most ordinary task – hanging the laundry maybe– and the bottom drops out all over again. Or seeing the bookmarks this morning in the spot where he kept them, and I remember how he carefully put one in the book he read aloud every morning; he certainly wasn’t the one who turned down corners or read in the bathtub and dropped library books into the water.

The tears are always there, and sometimes I’m astonished at their ferocity. I knew him so well. He’d want me to cry for him. He’d think that showed how much I loved him. Hey, I’d want some tears too if I’d gone first.

He’d also want me to be happy again.

As this is spring vacation week, keep an eye out for kids out and about, on bikes or on foot.

Partners for Enrichment and Sweet Tree Art, nonprofits that bring special programs in the arts and sciences to Lincolnville, Hope and Appleton schools, have arranged a visit from Robert Shetterly, the Brooksville artist.

He’s perhaps best known as the creator of the series of portraits he calls “Americans Who Tell the Truth” which he began in response to U.S. government actions following the 9/11 attacks. The project was his way of dealing with his own grief and anger by painting people such as Rosa Parks, Rachel Carson, and Mark Twain, who used “the power of truth combined with freedom of speech to challenge the system and inspire change.” He set out to paint 50 portraits in the beginning, but as of 2013 had 180 in the series.

Middle school students will hear about his work and create a portrait themselves. Not for the first time, I’d like to be a kid at LCS …

LCS fifth graders recently spent a day at the Gulf of Maine Research Institute in Portland, taking part in LabVenture, an interactive program for fifth and sixth graders throughout the state. The kids worked at digital kiosks collecting data and recording hypotheses on the Gulf of Maine watershed. According to  LCS fifth grader Mason Clark, "It was really fun because we got to learn about 5 different species in the Gulf of Maine and how they interact." The trip to Portland was funded by community businesses. Sorry that the article in the school’s newsletter, Lynx, didn’t specify which businesses contributed. Let me know for next week if you know.

Library

The Lincolnville Community Library book group plans to meet this Tuesday, April 18 at 6 p.m. to discuss “Testimony” by Anita Shreve. The compelling novel tells the story of a scandal at a prep school and how staff, students and parents deal with the fallout. As always, everyone is invited to join the discussion even if they have not read this particular book. This is also a great time to bring suggestions for what to read next. 

Wednesday, April 19 the monthly Library Presentation and Concert will be held starting at 7 p.m. This month’s program includes author Barbara Lawrence, a novelist, anthropologist, and much more, wrote Islands of Time and it’s sequel, The Other Island: Ben’s Story. Following her talk (and the usual cookie break!), Annabel Milisa-Parker, a CHRHS freshman, will sing. Annabel has performed in Sister Act, is a member of the CHRHS Chamber Singers, and has sung with the Camden Shakespeare Festival, in Little Mermaid, and Shrek the Musical. Sounds like a fun program. Reserve seats ($10 each; proceeds benefit the Library) by calling Rosey Gerry, 975-5432.

Red Cross Blood Drive

The American Red Cross will be holding a blood drive at the Community Building on Wednesday, April 26, 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. Please call 1-800-733-2767 to schedule an appointment. Or go the Red Cross website and enter Lincolnville CB to schedule an appointment. For questions, call Judy Cookson, 323-7004.

An Afternoon of Story-telling

The L’ville Historical Society is holding an afternoon of local story-telling on Sunday, April 30, 2 p.m. at the Library. A group of “old-timers” (no offense meant!) – Bernard Young, Robert Libby, Rosemary Winslow, Allan Thomas, Orville Young, and Joe Calderwood – will sit around and swap stories, with Rosey Gerry getting them started. Film-maker/photographer Josh Gerritsen will be filming it so the LHS can post it to their website. All are welcome.

Card-making Workshop

Edna Pendleton’s May card-making workshop will feature Mother’s Day and birthday cards. The date is May 3, 9 a.m. to noon at her home, 77 Stan Cilley Road. Email or call 763-3583, to sign up. I went to the last class and really enjoyed it; Edna’s got all the materials set up and demonstrates the techniques. Cost is $10 for each class.

A Long-time Resident

Time to mark your calendars for the monthly potlucks held at Bay Leaf Cottages on Atlantic Highway just south of the Beach. All Lincolnville residents are welcome to bring a covered dish to share (casserole, salad, dessert). Bay Leaf Cottages will provide a meat and beans each month, iced tea. BYOB is ok. The last Monday of each month is the day, 6-8 p.m. the time. Help with set-up and clean-up appreciated. Jane Lietdke, owner of Bay Leaf, says “Hope to see you this summah! Lots of fun! Great food! Meet new people! Stories, jokes, tales welcome...”

Watch for Turtles

It’s turtle egg-laying time, and as females they’re pretty sure they know their own minds, because inevitably, it’s the other side of the road where they want to make their nests. Way too many of them get run over in the process. A friend told me this morning that she keeps a box in her car for turtle transport. It can take some coaxing and the snappers can be pissy, but with the help of a stick they can be coaxed into the box and then safely carried over. I’m putting one in my car right now. Keep your eyes open for roadside turtles.