The Rural Voice, 2002-06, Page 6PRICE, SERVICE
& SATISFACTION
oaded.
Loaded!
0"")....
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2001 DODGE RAM 1500
QUAD CAB 4 X 4
V8, auto, keyless, leather , power
seat, overhead console, cassette,
CD, trailer tow, sold by us new.
Only 25,000 kms. $31,900
1999 DODGE
GRAND CARAVAN SE
Loaded with quad seating,
aluminum wheels, 3.8 V6.
98,900
1999 DODGE RAM 2500
CARGO VAN
White, V8, auto, air, local trade,
clean. $16,900
2000 DODGE DAKOTA
SPORT CLUB CAB
Rare V8 stick shift, low kms., sold
by us new.
$20,900
HANOVER CHRYSLER
DODGE JEEP
664 -10th St.,
Hanover
1-866-788-8886
Phone: (519) 364-3570
CHRYSLER
Dodge
Jeep
2 THE RURAL VOICE
Carol Riemer
In for the long haul
Carol Riemer
is a freelance
writer who
lives with her
husband and
two
children near
Grand
Valley,
Ontario.
The life of this country gardener
has never been easy. It may have
more ups than downs, but rarely is it
ever without challenge. In fact, it
seems that gardening, by its very
nature, is consistently wrought with
the unpredictable. Even if the weather
does manage to suppress a sudden
urge to conspire against the good-
natured, well-meaning gardener, it's a
sure bet that the local wildlife will
inevitably find a way to keep things
interesting.
Skulking, like thieves in the night,
a family of raccoons makes an
unannounced visit to our yard. Once
discovered, they quickly shy away
from the back porch light, choosing
instead to lurk in the shadows, before
disappearing into the dark. The
ground hogs have finally abandoned
their campsite along the fence line.
Only a handful of well -dug holes
have been left to remind us of the
days they would sit up on their hind
legs and chuckle at our vain attempts
to discourage their uninvited sojourns
into our garden.
When it comes to stubborn
country critters, however, there are
none more defiant than our notorious
neighbourhood skunks. One has
boldly taken to hanging around the
shed in the early morning, a habit I
would dearly love to discourage.
Cautious by nature, I find myself
furiously humming show -tunes,
reciting recipes, or simply coughing
loudly to announce my presence.
Throwing open the door, I'm relieved
to find no sign of the little striped
fellow. I may look a bit foolish, but I
tell myself there's no harm in being
careful.
Against the far wall of the shed,
leans my old green wheelbarrow. A
reluctant winter recluse, it isn't quite
ready to retire yet, despite all the
dents, the rust, and the thousand
untold insults it has endured over the
years. Through countless summers, it
has helped to haul tons of soil, sod
and stone from one end of the yard to
the other, only occasionally
squeaking up with the odd complaint,
when the load was too heavy.
I admit it was never much to look
at, even in its youth. Faded green,
with worn, white handles, it's smaller
than most of its kind. Nevertheless, it
can out-manoeuver wheelbarrows
twice its size. Together, we nip in and
out of tight places where my husband
and his large red wheelbarrow can
only dream of going. I rake the old
hay mulch from the garden each
spring and wheel it off to the
compost. In the fall, a fresh bale of
hay appears, carefully balanced over
the wheelbarrow tray like a giant hors
d'oeuvre. Without complaint, my old
green wheelbarrow has carried apple
and spruce trees for planting, bales of
peat moss, cords of freshly cut
firewood and loads of fallen leaves.
This year, however, I've noticed
that, much like me, it is beginning to
show signs of age. It creaks a little
louder each time I take it out, and I
don't like to push it as hard as I used
to.
"Perhaps, a two -wheeled garden
cart would help with the larger jobs."
I whisper to my husband, after
putting my old friend back in the
shed.
"Of course!" he agrees. "Then, we
can get rid of that rusty old bucket of
yours."
"Oh, no!" I quickly respond. "I
couldn't do that."
"Why not?" my husband asks,
betraying just a hint of impatience.
"Because," I explain, "after all
these years, I couldn't bear to part
with it. We've grown inseparable.
Weathered good times and bad. And
just like you and I, that old
wheelbarrow is still in it for the long
haul."0