16 Penny Nails
We saw the sun this weekend! It was so bright and shiny! I had almost forgotten what it feels like to squint.
I took the opportunity to do some outdoor spring cleaning, tackling two projects that had been bothering me for years. First, I cleaned up piles of wine bottles we, long ago, saved for some vague building-with-bottles plan. I've recycled three car trunk-loads, and there's plenty more to go. Good riddance to bad rubbish that was likely to cut someone's foot someday.
Second, I cleaned up a pile of salvaged gutter we decided we were never actually going to use (see a theme here?). Once that was out of the way I was able to do some more archaeological-style cleaning. The gutters had lain next to a shed last in use when Jeremy was a kid which we pulled down a year and a half ago (I remember the precise date because we did the demolition on our anniversary - aren't we romantic?). With the gutters gone I could get the last of some rotten pallets out of the way, and then just kept finding more and more odds and ends from thirty-plus years ago.
My finds included: an intact glass citrus juicer, an intact glass Smurf cup, an old Santa ornament, several barely recognizable caulk containers, broken canning jars, a hand saw, a table saw blade, a wrench, sheets of styrofoam, and loads of 16 penny nails buried in the soil.
This last find immediately brought back a memory that makes me smile every time I think about it. The year after I graduated from college I lived with my parents and worked construction. I had no experience and was nervous about appearing so, especially as the only female on the crew. During my first week on the job, my supervisor Paul asked me to bring him some 16 penny nails. Hesitant, I asked, "...you want sixteen of them?" thinking penny nails were what they were called, and sixteen was the quantity he needed. He kindly held in his laughter (though I could see it took some effort), smiled and said, "No, I could use the whole box..." Out in the tool shed I found a box labeled 16 penny nails and returned, embarrassed by my exposed ignorance. It was a great lesson in humility for a fresh-out-of-college smarty pants.
This weekend as I excavated a coffee can full of old 16 penny nails, I thought about all that has happened since my first encounter with them fifteen years ago. Around every bend in the road I've been reminded how much more there is to know about the world. Every new job, class, book, farm misadventure, or failed recipe attempt (pineapple upside down cake is trickier than it seems!) has brought a new chance to practice humility, humor, and perseverance (or, depending on the day, frustration, curse words, and tears). Parenting is by far the greatest teacher of humility - my children remind me on an almost hourly basis how little I know, with questions like these recent gems from William: "Where do foreheads come from?", and "Do jellyfish have ears?", and "How many people have died?" Maybe I should make an art piece out of these found nails as a reminder: don't worry about embarrassing yourself, just take in new knowledge with humility and gratitude, and never stop asking questions.
I took the opportunity to do some outdoor spring cleaning, tackling two projects that had been bothering me for years. First, I cleaned up piles of wine bottles we, long ago, saved for some vague building-with-bottles plan. I've recycled three car trunk-loads, and there's plenty more to go. Good riddance to bad rubbish that was likely to cut someone's foot someday.
Second, I cleaned up a pile of salvaged gutter we decided we were never actually going to use (see a theme here?). Once that was out of the way I was able to do some more archaeological-style cleaning. The gutters had lain next to a shed last in use when Jeremy was a kid which we pulled down a year and a half ago (I remember the precise date because we did the demolition on our anniversary - aren't we romantic?). With the gutters gone I could get the last of some rotten pallets out of the way, and then just kept finding more and more odds and ends from thirty-plus years ago.
My finds included: an intact glass citrus juicer, an intact glass Smurf cup, an old Santa ornament, several barely recognizable caulk containers, broken canning jars, a hand saw, a table saw blade, a wrench, sheets of styrofoam, and loads of 16 penny nails buried in the soil.
This last find immediately brought back a memory that makes me smile every time I think about it. The year after I graduated from college I lived with my parents and worked construction. I had no experience and was nervous about appearing so, especially as the only female on the crew. During my first week on the job, my supervisor Paul asked me to bring him some 16 penny nails. Hesitant, I asked, "...you want sixteen of them?" thinking penny nails were what they were called, and sixteen was the quantity he needed. He kindly held in his laughter (though I could see it took some effort), smiled and said, "No, I could use the whole box..." Out in the tool shed I found a box labeled 16 penny nails and returned, embarrassed by my exposed ignorance. It was a great lesson in humility for a fresh-out-of-college smarty pants.This weekend as I excavated a coffee can full of old 16 penny nails, I thought about all that has happened since my first encounter with them fifteen years ago. Around every bend in the road I've been reminded how much more there is to know about the world. Every new job, class, book, farm misadventure, or failed recipe attempt (pineapple upside down cake is trickier than it seems!) has brought a new chance to practice humility, humor, and perseverance (or, depending on the day, frustration, curse words, and tears). Parenting is by far the greatest teacher of humility - my children remind me on an almost hourly basis how little I know, with questions like these recent gems from William: "Where do foreheads come from?", and "Do jellyfish have ears?", and "How many people have died?" Maybe I should make an art piece out of these found nails as a reminder: don't worry about embarrassing yourself, just take in new knowledge with humility and gratitude, and never stop asking questions.
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