Terp

“The only thing standing between you and the job you want to do is a wet, stinky tarp (henceforth referred to as “Terp…”)…”

Early Monday morning, it was Ed and I opening up shop for the week. He made breakfast burritos while I took one last walk around the veggie fields to assess priorities for the morning. We enjoyed the peaceful breakfast among the birds and breeze, then got into a morning flow, where he trellised peas, and I cleaned up to do some mowing along the edges of our fields.

The outsides of Field 2 were pretty good; save for some frost cloth and rock bags in the southeast corner, and a few scraggly leftover drip lines. Then I got to the middle paths.

Terp… 

“Fuck…” I muttered under my breath. I weighed my options. Do I really have to move this Terp? Would a scoot to the side suffice, then a scoot to the other side? Is there any point in keeping this down here? What’s Ed doing?

I walked up towards Ed. “HEY ED!” I shouted. “WANNA COME HELP ME MOVE THIS TERP?!”

“YEAH!” replied Ed, and made his way down.

Ed and I, practiced Terp movers that we’ve become, took our respective places; me at the front end of the bundled Terp; him about half-way down. It was wet, heavy, and stinky; a smell reminiscent of the circulating waters of a live bait shop. We picked up our respective Terp segments, getting our customary baitwater soak. We struggled momentarily against the weight of the beast, before stopping to reassess.

“Hold on,” said Ed, “I think there may be some rock bags back here.” Finally freeing all the excess weight, we did the downhill slide, to empty out at least some of the smelly baitwater, and muscled her up the hill, to the open patch between the barn and granary, to start folding her up. We got into the customary questions.

“Where’s the corner? We starting this way or that way? Wanna do one more this way, then that way? We crisscrossing the tie like we have been doing? How should we label this one…”

One Terp down; two to go. “Yo Ed, are you down to help me grab those other two Terps quick?”

“Sure.”

Ed

I didn’t get to all of my mowing Monday, and fired up the operation again Thursday, around Field 1 and 0. The outsides of Field 0 were pretty good; save for some rock bags along the east and west sides, and a few scraggly leftover drip lines. Then I got to the middle paths.

Terp…

“Fuck…” I muttered under my breath. I weighed my options. Do I really have to move this Terp? Would a scoot to the side suffice, then a scoot to the other side? Is there any point in keeping this up here? What’s Ed doing?

I walked down towards Ed. “HEY ED!” I shouted. “WANNA COME HELP ME MOVE THIS TERP?!”

“YEAH!” replied Ed, and made his way up.

Ed and I, practiced Terp movers that we’ve become, took our respective places; me at the front end of the bundled Terp; him about half-way down. It was wet, heavy, and stinky; a smell reminiscent of the circulating waters of a live bait shop. We picked up our respective Terp segments, getting our customary baitwater soak. We struggled momentarily against the weight of the beast, before stopping to reassess.

“Hold on,” said Ed, “I think there may be some rock bags back here.” Finally freeing all the excess weight, we did the downhill slide, to empty out at least some of the smelly baitwater, and muscled her down the hill, to the open patch between the barn and granary, to start folding her up. We got into the customary questions.

“Where’s the corner? We starting this way or that way? Wanna do one more this way, then that way? We crisscrossing the tie like we have been doing? How should we label this one…”

One Terp down; two to go. “Yo Ed, are you down to help me grab those other two Terps quick?”

“Sure.”

Ed

Later Thursday, I was working the wheel hoe in a couple of plots that needed mulching. I thought of a plan. If we could just pull the loaded hay wagon right between these two plots, mulching them both concurrently… Was anything standing in the way?

Terp…

“Fuck…” I muttered under my breath. I weighed my options. Do I really have to move this Terp? Would a scoot to the side suffice, then a scoot to the other side? Is there any point in keeping this up here? What’s Ed doing?

I walked down towards Ed. “HEY ED!” I shouted. “WANNA COME HELP ME MOVE THIS TERP?!”

“YEAH!” replied Ed, and made his way up.

Ed and I, practiced Terp movers that we’ve become, took our respective places; me at the front end of the bundled Terp; him about half-way down. It was wet, heavy, and stinky; a smell reminiscent of the circulating waters of a live bait shop. We picked up our respective Terp segments, getting our customary baitwater soak. We struggled momentarily against the weight of the beast, before stopping to reassess.

“Hold on,” said Ed, “I think there may be some rock bags back here.” Finally freeing all the excess weight, we did the downhill slide, to empty out at least some of the smelly baitwater, and muscled her down the hill, to the open patch between the barn and granary, to start folding her up. We got into the customary questions.

“We starting this way or that way? Wanna do one more this way, then that way? We crisscrossing the tie like we have been doing? How should we label this one…”

Ed

Later Thursday, I told Danny I’d help him clean up for radish seeding in Y1. I was working the wheel hoe in Field 0 when he called up for my help. I walked down to the plot. What would be our biggest barrier to opening this thing up?

Terp…

“Fuck…” I muttered under my breath. I weighed my options. Do we really have to move this Terp? Would a scoot to the side suffice, then a scoot to the other side? Is there any point in keeping this up here? What’s Ed doing?

I walked up towards Ed. “HEY ED!” I shouted. “WANNA COME HELP ME MOVE THIS TERP?!”

“YEAH!” replied Ed, and made his way down…

Ed