Brigits Flame, entry for the first week of April
“Hey, Sarah,” Nate sang out, pedaling up the drive. Sarah dropped the handles of the wheelbarrow she was pushing, and turned around.
“Hey, Nate. What’s up?” She crossed her arms, tapping the fingers of her left hand against her right bicep.
“I stopped by to see if you wanted to hang out, or something.” Nate leaned on his handlebars, grinning. He looked like a Labrador Retriever with a tennis ball.
“Sorry, I have work to do. Maybe later.” She picked up the wheelbarrow’s handles and marched off.
“O.K., how about if I keep you company?” Nate hopped off his bike and leaned it against the barn wall, trotting after her.
“Well, Nate, I think you’ll probably be bored. There aren’t any video games in here.”
“Oh, well, no big,” he shrugged. “Mind if I have a look around?”
“Whatever. Just don’t mess with anything.” Sarah disappeared backwards into one of the stalls, pulling the wheelbarrow.
Nate wandered off, A few minutes later, Sarah heard him rummaging around in the tack room.
“I said don’t mess with anything!” She shouted, “I don’t need to clean up after you, too!” a few seconds passed, and Nate appeared at the door, polishing an apple on his shirt.
“Did you get that out of the basket in the tack room?” Sarah glanced up from her shoveling.
“You mean the room with all the saddles and stuff in it? Yup.” Nate grinned again. Sarah wondered if he had any other expressions in his repertoire.
“Nate, those apples are drops; they’re for the horses to eat. They’re not the best apples.”
Nate examined the apple he held. “Looks O.K. to me,” he took a huge bite, munching away and swallowing. “Tastes pretty good, too.” He grinned (again!) and lounged against the wall, watching her work.
“You have to do a lot of digging when you have a horse,” Nate observed.
“What do you mean?” Actually, what he meant was pretty clear; after all, Sarah worked away, shovel in hand, mucking out. She just wanted to hear him explain himself.
“Well, look at you,” Nate waved his apple at her, and then around at the whole barn. “You‘re digging the horse poop out of this stall-“
“Shoveling, actually”
“Same difference,” Nate shrugged.
“No, you dig with a spade, and you shovel,” she punctuated her words by shoving her shovel into the bedding, and dumping the refuse into the wheelbarrow, “with a shovel.” Sarah held the empty shovel in front of her, as if she were trying to sell it.
Nate made an impatient noise. “Semantics.” He flipped his hand as if to shoo her explanation away.
“Really?” Sarah cocked an eyebrow. It was time to teach Mr. Smarty Pants McGrinny Grin a lesson. “Come with me.”
She stalked out of the stall, carrying her shovel like some staff of office. Nate levered himself off the wall and followed her. They proceeded to the tool shed. Sarah marched along, and Nate shuffled loosely after her, whistling.
“Right, take this.” She thrust the shovel at him and wrenched the shed door open. She disappeared into the musty darkness, and emerged a few seconds later carrying a spade.
“We are going to dig a small drainage ditch, to get rid of the big puddle over there,” she proclaimed. “You are going to dig with this shovel, and I am going to use this spade. Ready?” She turned and stalked off, Nate again shambling along in her wake.
“See, we want to dig here,” she pointed at a spot on the edge of the vast puddle, “to here,” she pointed at another spot a short way down the hill. “O.K.?”
“Yeah, sure,” Nate shrugged.
“O.K.” Sarah turned, placed the point of the spade in the dirt, and her foot on the top edge of the blade. It bit neatly into the dirt when she leaned her weight on it, and she levered a neat chunk of earth over onto the ground. The water in the puddle immediately filled the hole she’d made.
“Let’s see you try.”
Nate copied her movements exactly: he placed the broad edge of the shovel on the ground and the sole of his sneaker on the top of the scoop. When he leaned his weight on the shovel, nothing happened. Nate grunted, and pushed harder, causing the edge of the shovel to dent the ground, muddy water oozing around it. He looked up at Sarah and grinned sheepishly.
“See?” she said archly, “You shovel with a shovel, and dig with a spade.” She smiled smugly.
“Well,” Nate puffed out his cheeks, and blew out a long breath, “I guess I’ve been schooled.” He grinned, held the shovel out to Sarah, and grasped the handle of the spade. He jerked his head at the barn, “Why don’t you go finish shoveling, and I’ll dig this ditch here. Then we can go hang out.” He waved his hand in front of his face. “After you’ve showered, of course.”
Sarah blinkd. “O.K., Whatever”, she smiled, as she walked back to the barn. Maybe Nate would turn out to be something other than a pest after all.