Hoeing
I sometimes fear the younger generation will be deprived
of the pleasures of hoeing;
there is no knowing
how many souls have been formed by this simple exercise.
The dry earth like a great scab breaks, revealing
moist-dark loam-
the pea-root's home,
a fertile wound perpetually healing.
How neatly the green weeds go under!
The blade chops the earth new.
Ignorant the wise boy who
has never performed this simple, stupid, and useful wonder.
John Updike
I loved and hated it. The money was good but the work was ‘back breaking.’ We usually teamed up with some friends and did this job together but inevitably you work at different speeds, so much of the day was rather solitary. We would pack a lunch and a transistor radio and listen all day to country and western music on the only radio station we could catch. If there was an irrigation ditch or pond to jump in for a refreshing swim, all the better. Many a Dutch immigrant will claim this as their first employment. Those were some of my first encounters with First Nations folk who were also out hoeing. We would try to start early, often at first light and finish up by early afternoon before the sun got too hot.
I do think that Updike’s fear is well-founded. Many parents might feel they are ‘sparing’ their children the joy of that kind of simple and stupid manual labor. I still enjoy the pleasure of hoeing and have more of late taken great pleasure in hard physical labor. It is soul forming and has a more immediate satisfaction that a lot of other work I’ve done. It is a useful wonder.