Asymptomatic

I had previously written about the new aquarium that we had set up at our house. We've had some recent events that have had all of the fish scared out of their little minds.

Sometime shortly after we put the creatures into the tank, our two snails died. Such is the nature of home aquariums - sometimes things just don't make it. The first one went early, the second one some time later, both to be found just bobbing in the water, shell-down. We were sad. At first.

Soon after we discovered that the second snail had died, we noticed that there were a bunch of small things roving around over the gravel. They looked so much like little bits of gravel that we had not noticed them before. Indeed, they were baby snails. Bazillions of them....

Recently Berta got the idea to pull the twenty-gallon fish tank out of the guest room and clean it up so that we could once again use it to contain fish. The tank still had little rocks in it left over from our last functional tank, but in addition to the dried scum that seemed impossible to remove from the glass, that's about all we had.

As it turns out, a little vinegar will remove all of the scum from the tank. She removed the rocks into a little plastic trash bin (which sat like some kind of modern art sculpture on our kitchen island for a while) and proceeded to scrub the tank to good effect.

Of course, we needed to get supplies if we were going to restart the tank, since the only thing we had were rocks. A trip to Pet Smart yielded a small bounty of fish items - clean tank rocks, an over-the-edge filtration device with extra filters, an in-gravel aerator, and a heater of a size suitable for heating our tank....

I'll tell you now about my own near death experience, which happened while driving, of course.

I had just started working at the new job within the week, and hadn't quite figured out the best way to get to the building yet.  The way that I had taken is much different (and surprisingly less interesting) than the route I take now. 

You might enjoy a diagram:...

We went to the orchard on Saturday morning for our yearly pumpkin picking ritual, but came away somewhat disappointed.

One of the great things about Northbrook Orchards was that it was an orchard.  There were apple trees where they grew their own apples.  They made their own apple cider from those apples.  They had peaches and strawberries.  They had their own pumpkin patch and even a see-into honey bee hive that produced real honey.

But no more.

When we arrived at the orchard, there were two things I noticed that were different.  I'm not sure which was first.  I noticed that the parking area, which had always been a gravel lot overflowing into an open field, had been paved with fresh asphalt.  I also noticed that the sign on top of the barn was torn in half and only read "Northbrook Or".  This was clearly a portent of things to come.

I knew from last year that they had sold their strawberry field for land developers.  The last time I went to pick strawberries out there was just a couple of years before.  I suppose that it just wasn't paying out for them to harvest their small crop and sell it to local stores.  It's hard work, and even as an outing ("Let's go pick strawberries!") it's not exactly entirely fun ("I've got a bushel, let's get out of the sun.").

But looking behind the barn, I was startled by the new homes that had taken the place of the apple trees.  In fact, as far as I could see on their old land, there wasn't a single tree standing.  I wonder what happened to them all.

We parked on the lot and wandered over to the pumpin display, which looked like something you might see outside of KMart.  People unfamiliar with the family orchard experience just aren't going to get what a disappointment this is.  You see neatly organized pumpkins on bleacher-like stands, awaiting inspection and purchase.  The only thing that was any different from buying at the grocery store was that there were no price tags on the pumpkins.

A woman we met in the asphalt pumpin patch arrived with her son and also lamented the days, just last year, when you could pick pumpkins and get cider and take your picture with your head in the wacky farmer cutouts.  The hayrides were gone.  The animals were gone.  It just wasn't a farm any more.

The sign near the road advertised sandwiches and coffee at the Northbrook Country Store.  Apparently, they don't call themselves an orchard any more - not that they have the right to.

Later, we were inside the store.  Full of trinkets and knick-knacks not grown on a farm, not seen in an orchard, we might as well have stopped at Acme.  There were some more natural-looking supplies.  There was unsweetened apple butter (yum) and different cake mixes and preverves (grape, orange, tomato).  But they were all...  manufactured.  It's not that these things weren't there before, but in this new context, everything just seemed more fake.

They still had the donut machine.  Abby and I watched the machine drop donuts into the fryer and sizzle.  We bought a dozen.  Apple cider donuts are a hallmark of the season for me, even if they come from a dusty ramshackle country store as opposed to an actual orchard.

I feel like I should have seen this coming.  Last year, they started with the bins of different apples.  I thought it was a nice way to compare what they were growing to that from different local orchards.  But it seems their plan was to sell only apples from other orchards.  Berta packed up a bag of Gala apples, which are pretty tasty, especially when cold.

I think I would prefer to remember Northbrook as it was even last year with Abby running among the pumpkins pointing to each one and getting excited.  We got the biggest pumpkin we could find from the lot, and a little one for Abby, which turned out to be still a little too big.  I was saying that the size of our huge pumpkin will be an adequate deterrant to weak-armed theives, but I can't help but question that motive.  This grand pumpkin seems like compensation for the let down of the orchard - a failed attempt to bring this occasion to as high esteem as times past.

A short chapter in a new idea I'm writing out.  A fantasy story.  This should be troublesome, since I don't even read fantasy. more