Smith: Second Edition

By Carol Dunk

Smith is a story about a week in the life of an itinerant yardman and a retired teacher. The yardman brings Buddhist quotes to Kate. The quotes help Kate with her transition from teacher to something else. Together they complete tasks in Kate’s garden and explore the possible meanings of quotes from the Tao Te Ching—the writings of Lao Tzu.

Almost by accident, Kate becomes caught up in a school in the making in South America. She is revitalized with the prospect of playing a part in the establishment of a tiny school in Ecuador.

At the end of the week, Smith is on his way again, and Kate is able to say goodbye with a smile. Life goes on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9781669863298

Carol Dunk

Carol Dunk I am a retired teacher. Prior to 1972, I taught public school for 9 years. From 1976 to 1997, I taught business and computer courses at Georgian College in Barrie. In 1975, I initiated the first word processing program at Georgian College and lobbied for, created the curriculum for and taught in the first pc lab at the College. I have been married to Mike for 55 years and have one daughter, one granddaughter and two great grandchildren. When I retired, I had time to spend on my favourite pastime: gardening. I trained and became a Master Gardener in 1999. I have taught gardening courses at Georgian College and often speak at local horticultural groups about my gardening experiences, gardening ideas, soil care and reduction of pesticides and pollinators. It has been my pleasure to speak to many groups in central Ontario. In 2003 and 2004, I was a seminar speaker at Ontario Horticultural Association Conventions. I have been a plenary speaker for 2 OHA conventions. For two years, I did noon-hour sessions on a local television channel and from those shows became known around Simcoe County as Master Gardener Grandma Dunk! I am an emeritus member of the Simcoe County Master Gardeners and have served on the provincial Master Gardeners of Ontario Board as a Zone Director, Treasurer, and Chair of Education. I am also past-treasurer and past-president of Barries Garden Club and published the monthly newsletter for that society for 6 years. I have become part of the provincial organization, the Ontario Horticultural Association, and served as District Director of District 16 (Simcoe County) and as the President of the Ontario Horticultural Association in 2011. While on the OHA Board, I created and published a booklet on Rain Barrels and another one on my pet project, Pollinator Patches. I also initiated a tree-planting project to commemorate the Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth. Ten years ago, bees and their precarious situation became my passion. I planted the first Pollinator Patch across from Canadian Tire with the blessings of the City of Barrie, talked of pollinators up and down the byways of Ontario and created a website to encourage planting for pollinators. I was given the Canadian Pollinator Advocate of the year in 2012 by the Pollinator Protection Campaign an organization out of the USA encompassing pollinator issues in Mexico, USA and Canada for my work in Ontario. Last year I worked with the City of Barrie and a citizens group to begin a pollinator corridor along one of the walking trails in the City. You may visit me on my web site: http://www.caroldunk.com or at my pollinator site: http://roadsides.caroldunk.com or on my blog: www.caroldunk.blogspot.ca I also maintain the OHA Conservation site: http://conservation.gardenontario.org Two booklets I have authored: http://www.gardenontario.org/subdomains/conservation/resources/guide.pdf http://www.gardenontario.org/docs/rollout.pdf Carol Dunk 96B Bernick Drive, Barrie, ON L4M 2V6 737-0147 [e-mail] http://www.caroldunk.com

Book preview

SMITH

In the Beginning

D rat! Kate exclaimed as the sound of the doorbell broke her concentration. Who could that be? Ordinarily Kate disliked any interruption when she was in task mode, but on this Friday morning in late June the intrusion was particularly bothersome. Matthew was away, and Kate liked to cocoon when she was alone. The house was all the companion she ne eded.

Kate had only been in the present house for four years. As empty nesters, Kate and Matthew had thought of moving to a smaller space, thought about it often. Their daughter was married and living across the city; their son had joined the army and was posted every three years to dear-knows-where. They no longer needed four bedrooms and three baths. Both of them had felt that it was time to reduce their living space.

So, four years ago, she and Matthew had sold the family home and moved to this small house chosen as much for the quiet, semi-rural setting on a quiet cul-de-sac as for the attractive aspects of the house. The one-and-one-half-story Cape Cod was close to the road on good-sized lot. The house was designed with a central hall and stairs—the living room, the dining room on the left and Kate’s study, a half-bath, and the eat-in kitchen on the right. The master en suite took the entire upper half story. All the rooms were spacious but cozy at the same time.

The house, with a garage and a driveway on the west side, was on a quiet cul-de-sac at the far west end of town backing onto a green space—almost rural. The houses in the area were built with ample space between one another. Trees shaded the sidewalks, and shrubs and gardens and more trees divided the lots. Although their house was just a block and a bit from a major road, sounds of traffic and urban life were muted by those surrounding trees and shrubs. In the semi-seclusion of this middle-class, suburban small street, a stranger at the door was most unusual.

Kate tiptoed to the window at the side of the door and peeked out to get a glimpse of the intruder. Standing at the entry was a man, tall and lanky, neither young nor old, neither handsome nor ugly, carrying no clipboard or brochures. He was dressed in clean work clothes and seemed as comfortable in his well-worn jean jacket as he would have been in a silk suit. Kate was interested by his easy manner and his Sam Elliott looks—not a false-friendly salesman, not an overly zealous Jehovah’s Witness, definitely not a canvasser. She decided to see what he wanted.

As Kate opened the door, she heard G’day, Ma’am. My name’s Smith, and I do yard work. I finish the jobs that husbands begin and begin the jobs they’ve forgotten about. My rates are reasonable—fifteen dollars an hour plus lunch five hours a day usual and six hours a day max. Is there something you’d like done? he inquired in a lovely tumbleweed baritone.

Intrigued by his offer, Kate mentally scanned the property: a white picket fence with several teeth missing, back and front gardens in need of watering, several hostas ready to be divided, a bit of a path from the back door of the garage to nowhere, a garden shed full of this and that, so full that it took half a day to find the tool you wanted.

Kate maintained the hostas under the lilacs on the east side of the property but let the cedars on the west side go their own way. They gave a feeling of privacy to the property and greatly increased the bird count. Along with the lilacs, hostas, and cedars on the sides of the property were the two border gardens: one on the north side inside the picket fence and one on the south side abutting a link fence and a municipal green space.

Managing the grounds fell to Kate, although Matthew did the heavy wheelbarrow-and-shovel work and odd bits of construction. He had a list as long as his arm, but with his busy schedule, getting around to yard work was difficult. At fifteen dollars an hour, a few hours work might lead to a nice surprise for Matthew when he returned. It would certainly ease her work. With some of the chores done, she and Matthew might even take a few days away.

Kate surprised herself by saying, Sounds like a deal. When and where will you start?

Both Kate’s and Smith’s eyes turned to the picket fence, built years earlier by a former owner. It had once added romance to the Cape Cod house; but now, with pickets missing, it made the whole property look unloved. Matthew had started to fix the fence earlier this spring. He’d bought all the materials he would need. The wooden pickets and the white paint were in the garage. Matthew had started to paint the new pickets—six weeks ago. Since then, there had been no progress. The unpainted pickets would probably still be there as summer crept towards fall.

As if he was reading her mind, Smith said, "How about the fence on

Monday, ma’am?"

And thus the week began.

MONDAY

The Teacher Appears

CHAPTER 1

In which We Meet Kate’s Dilemma

K ate Anderson had retired from teaching at the end of the last semester, taking advantage of a good offer from the board to retire five years early. She thought that she was prepared to enjoy retirement. Then summer arrived. This was her first summer of retirement, the first summer without the need to work on material for fall classes. The urge to plan for next semester washed over her in waves. After all, course outlines and preparation had been part of her late summer routine for thirty summers. A feeling of general unrest hung over her, a sensation of having forgotten something. She had talked about this sensation with her three Wednesday Coffee Mates earlier this month.

Kate and the other three Mates (Lois, Anne, and D’Arcy) had met years ago at a course they had taken at Ottawa University and had hit it off immediately. They had kept their relationship fresh with Wednesday lunches while they worked. Through the years, they remained friends and sounding boards whenever one of them was