Our Maine Street's Aroostook Issue 14 : Fall 2012 | Page 34

oldest was in the truck. I looked over and I could not see evidence
of any canola being in that truck. I asked him again, “Where is
the canola?”

“Debi, it is right there in that truck!”, now he was
perturbed at me, and I just kept
looking for the canola. Now,
is a good time to remind you
that I never paid any particular
attention to what crops were
being planted and harvested,
and I didn’t really know what
canola looked like. I walk over
to the truck, climbed up the
small steel steps and looked
inside the bulk body, which
is painted black. It was then,
I dipped my hand inside and
discovered that indeed, the
canola was there. Small tiny
black seeds, teeny tiny black
seeds. I was amazed at how
small these seeds were and how black they were. How can a plant
that blooms the most beautiful yellow, end up as a small teeny
black seed?

It was then that I decided that I would pay closer
attention to what my farming husband told me, and that I would

personally inspect everything that he harvests. Much to his
chagrin, I am involved again, very involved. I may not be driving
trucks, digging up ground or bringing the snacks, but I am there
with my camera, in my farming husband’s way. Asking all kinds
of questions and being totally
amazed at how much this
man of mine knows about th B