Chapter 12: Tales of an Emerging Country Boy
As I was departing the Great Smokey Mountains, I took a moment to remind myself what was in front of me. In February, months ago, I had joined an organization called WWOOF (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms) after talking with some friends about their experiences with being 'WWOOFers'. The concept of WWOOF is pretty simple and mirrored in other work share communities: the volunteer commits to a certain number of hours per day to help the farm 'go' (tasks can include most anything, but often revolve around planting, harvesting, digging, building, general upkeep, getting eggs, milking cows, tending to animals, and countless other cool skills most city folk like me are lacking in). In exchange for these work hours (usually 3-5 hours a day, Monday through Friday), the volunteer is given room and board, and two to three meals a day from the farm host. Volunteers can stay on farms for variable amounts of time, but most farms ask for a two week commitment, and ask that you check in once in a while to remind them/confirm you are still coming when you say you are (as there are plenty of preparations made for visiting WWOOFers). I was on my way to Prince Bay Farm in the very small town of Tabor City, NC, a farm recommended to me by my friend Anna, who had told me stories about her time on the farm. Most of the stories revolved around the farm's owner, Nick Prince,
and the stories he had about past volunteers, as well as his opinions about life and the world we live in. To put everything into perspective, I was driving to this farm having never WWOOFed before and with no real farm skills to my name, save for a blind ambition to be of assistance instead of a burden. Other than that, I was going in without any real idea of what was ahead of me...only the feeling that saying 'yes' would lead to some excellent adventures. The drive to Tabor City, NC (geographically straddling the border between North and South Carolina, about 40 minutes (Suni & Nick)
west of the Atlantic Ocean), was tame,
up until the last 40 minutes. Any guesses out there as to what met me as I turned down the first of many long, winding country roads towards Tabor City? If you said 'a storm', you were correct. Another one of those huge, menacingly dark clouds shooting out lightning and bellowing thunder. With only Siri to guide me, I started down a bunch of roads, losing any sense of direction among the downpour, my entire focus on the washed out roads. I slowed down to about 15 miles under the speed limit, though I was still managing to hydroplane once or twice every fourth mile or so. Thankfully, I kept my wits about me, and did finally make it to Prince Bay Farm in the middle of the storm. I sat in the car for a second, looking at the main house for some sign of life before I would be coaxed out of my car. About 10 seconds later, a shirtless man sporting a big grin motioned me over to the side door. I jumped out of the car and made for the side door, getting soaked in the process. The door shut behind me, and the man introduced himself as Nick Prince, the owner of the farm.
Nick is sight to behold...he was tan and strong looking (I imagine working on a farm does that to you), with wiry grey hair, glasses, and a beard. He showed me the house, a domicile that looked messy to the untrained eye, though I would learn over my stay that there was absolutely a method to the madness (Nick is a self proclaimed neat freak, and takes pain-staking measures to keep things
organized). The appliances and countertops looked loved and their appearance didn't reflect a huge need to keep them looking fresh...I observed quickly that how something looks has no effect on it's function, and so long as food was prepared on clean surfaces (cutting boards/plates) and dishes were cleaned appropriately, the kitchen worked exactly like one would in a suburban home, just with a different look. For how different Nick's house looked from what I was used to, I loved the whole place. There was no pretense of trying to impress anyone, yet everything was where it was supposed to be and the place was clean where it actually mattered (Nick used to be a health inspector and knew exactly how/why to keep his place sanitary and functioning). Nick introduced me to Nicholas, his 20 year old son who was on the farm this summer to help him out. Nick was about to begin radiation treatment for a malignant tumor that his doctor had found, and thankfully, the prognosis was very optimistic (still is, actually!), and though Nick was still around during the time he was undergoing treatment, the process took it's toll, and the less Nick was working hard, the better. Enter Nicholas, visiting from school to act as the supervisor for the volunteers when needed, a roll he filled for my entire visit. After getting the tour, Nick and I hung around on the bottom floor watching TV, talking about music, and Nick told me stories about other volunteers he's had in his time. Nick loves to chat and is an excellent story teller. I couldn't repeat half the stories he's told me (either because I can't remember them, or I shouldn't repeat them), but his experiences with volunteers over his five years has been up and down, with some of them providing memorable moments for all of the wrong reasons. Nick wasn't phased by much, as far as I could tell. This proved to be the case when, about 20 minutes later, Nick walked in after hanging up the phone, alerting the room to the fact that two of his volunteers from right now (their tent literally in the back) had just been arrested in Myrtle Beach for failing to produce insurance on the car they were driving at a routine traffic stop. Nick's face didn't exhibit much shock...he just told us the facts, sat back on the couch, and lit up another cigarette. If you ever meet Nick Prince, ask him about his volunteers. The rain let up after I ate some of the leftover dinner foods, and Nick took me to my residence, a colorful wooden shack behind the barn at the edge of his property, called "The Fun House" (on account of the colorful nature). It was a wooden building with room enough to sleep three comfortably, two windows and a screen door. It was going to be home for the next two weeks, so after Nick showed me to the room, I spent some time making it my own, sweeping the floors and organizing my gear as I listened to my music on the Bluetooth speaker I had been keeping in my car. I went back to the house for the evening movie, a screening of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. It was during the screening of the movie that I was introduced to the other volunteers, all of whom were from abroad.
(Beilei, Nicholas, Suni, Carolina, & Ben)
There was Suni from China, who had been there one week already; Beilei, also from China (though about to start a semester at Kent State once she finished up on the farm), who had arrived earlier that day, and Carolina from Chile, who had also arrived earlier that day. It was a motley crew that sat down and watched that Harry Potter movie, but a good crew I would get to know as the week went on. We finished up the movie late and I retired to the Fun House for bed, ready to start my two week stay on Prince Bay Farm. Now, to tell you, Dear Reader, of every single day in excruciating detail, would take me longer than I care to spend, especially when the best stories can be boiled down into important moments and stories throughout the my time on the farm. The daily schedule usually involved getting up early, working for three hours in the morning, having lunch at noon, working two more hours, and then having the afternoon to ourselves for whatever we wanted to do, though sometimes Nick had something in mind for us to enjoy at the end of the day (as long as we were "good volunteers"). We had dinner around 7, watched a movie around 8:30, went to bed late and started the process all over again. Instead of telling you every single thing I worked on or every movie we watched, I want to break the remaining chapter up into smaller stories with some significance to them. I hope you enjoy the Tales of an Emerging Country Boy.
Day 1 (August 1st, 2016): The First Day I woke up early, enjoying the cool of the morning before our 10am start time. After breakfast, Nick gave us the tour of the Farm showing us the many structures (the main house, the old barn, the chicken coop, the high tunnel, the garden, the pallet house, the fun house) and the many crops, flowers, and trees he was growing/harvesting (at the very least peppers, soybeans, asparagus, blueberries, gourds of various shape and purpose, noodle beans, okra, pears, black walnuts, and pecans...plus more than I can remember). I spent most of my work hours that day using a pitchfork to consolidate barkchips into a better pile for making compost. When I needed to blow off some steam, I took some time to practice chucking the pitchfork into the pile, javelin style. I figure I was inspired by the Olympics, which were set to start on Friday. The day lacked any notable moments other than getting some time to hang out with the other volunteers. Suni and Beilei both had a pretty good grasp on English (some things got lost in translation, but with patience, conversations could be had without much issue). Carolina knew some English, but was much more proficient in Spanish, and as it would turn out, I was the only person at the farm with any working knowledge of Spanish, so we became friends pretty quickly as I stumbled through the Spanish I knew, and she did the same with English, comprehending each other after a while. We all spent the evening watching The Half Blood Prince. I asked Nick if it was possible to get up and start working before 9am (closer to sunrise, around 6:30am) so I could beat the heat, which he agreed to, so long as I checked in the night before about what I should be doing. I slept well that night, muscles aching a little.
Day 2 (August 2nd, 2016): My Darwin Conflict
During my second day, I found myself introduced quickly to the wildlife on the farm. Whether it was the many roosters waking me up at the crack of dawn, or the insects landing on my arm for my inspection (or to inspect me), I found my stay involved animals at almost every interval. This story revolves around Snoddy Dawg, the resident pooch, and a batch of newborn kittens. I was weeding in the afternoon of my second day, when Nick came over and encouraged us to take a break and enjoy the company of the new kittens, the children of a Siamese looking cat by the name of "Chicken", on account of her living mostly inside the chicken coop with the many foul within (three ducks, more than 15 chicken and roosters, five African Guinea Foul, two geese, and one very old turkey). It was an enjoyable break, getting to pick up and let the very tiny kittens run along our laps, listening to them mew quietly, really in no control of what was happening to them. The kittens were hanging out near the old shed, a dilapidated structure that Nick mentioned was the oldest part of the property ("built sometime in the 1850s", Nick mentioned), a little in the open, but pretty sheltered from the weather. We enjoyed the break, but then went back to work, though out of all of us, I was the only one working near the kittens. Predictably, I failed to get much done, opting instead to play with the kittens. Now, as I'm finishing up my work for the day, Snoddy Dawg came along. I had been given an offhand warning from Nicholas about how Snoddy Dawg, a very capable possum hunter, would probably try to kill the kittens if given the opportunity. Sure enough, as I was walking to the wheelbarrow with a handful of weeds, Snoddy was nuzzling one over and trying to bite its underside. Not one to stand idly by, I dropped my weeds and grabbed his collar, shouting "Bad dog! No!", like I was told to. Snoddy Dawg didn't seem to care too much about my appeals, and kept coming at the kittens, who were mewing at him without mercy. I had my hand on his collar, and I ended up holding it for the better part of the next 15 minutes, as I tried to divert his sight and attention to literally anything else without smacking him upside the head with a nearby log. Unfortunately, the kittens did not seem to grasp the gravity of the situation, and every time I pulled Snoddy Dawg far enough away to get his attention refocused, the kittens would come farther out of their cove, mewing and rubbing up against him as though he were their best friend. This went on for a bit as I was shouting for another set of hands, though my calls fell on deaf ears. At one point, I was picking up the kittens and literally tossing them about 10 feet away from me as I used the other hand to restrain Snoddy Dawg, though much like fuzzy boomerangs, the kittens always returned. This went on for 20 minutes, tiring my biceps muscles pretty severely. Around minute 17, I realized that I was taking the principle of Darwin's evolutionary theory (the creatures that die, die because they lack the adaptations or intelligence to persevere) and taking it through the mud. These kittens, though young, were clearly begging to be eaten, and I was stopping the process because I couldn't bear the thought of being responsible for their deaths. All I had to do was let go of the collar and step back to fulfill the same philisophy I had sided with in almost every conversation regarding the reality of the universe. But I didn't. I felt, after some internal struggle about the matter, that these kittens had not gotten the chance to make their way in the world. If they should die, it should be because of their own choices, and I felt them too young to be accountable for the outcomes of this scenario. Where was was their mother? Was she giving them a chance at survival? Finally, after flinging the small grey and white cat with blue eyes (who was my favorite, and who I named Buddy) back towards his shelter, I finally dragged Snoddy Dawg away and got him involved with something else. I decided that in the two weeks I was going to be there, I would do what I could to give these tiny kittens a shot at a life that they could end based on their own choices. It seemed like the fairest thing to do. For the two weeks I was there, three of the four kittens survived due to my intervening as well as help from the other volunteers. One of the kittens, an all grey, brash kitten, met his end as he continually provoked Snoddy Dawg. The rest of the kittens moved into the chicken coop and, though they could often be found around the pallet pile behind the tool shed, they were under the eye of their mother or a human for the remainder of my two weeks.
Day 6 (August 6th, 2016): First Day Off
It was Saturday after a week of working hard in the sun. I found myself in possession of a nice tan (complete with tank top tan lines), a little extra muscle, and some knowledge of what is required to make a farm run. Shockingly, it seemed to involve a fair amount of manual labor. However, Nick had decided we could take Saturday off (normally a work day) for some fun and museum visiting. At 9am, we all (myself, Beilei, Suni, Carolina, Nicholas, and Nick [all wearing shirts!]) piled into Nick's silver town car and headed towards Conway to visit the L.W. Paul Living History Farm. The living History Farm, as you might be able to surmise from the name, was an historically accurate looking farm, complete with people still harvesting the many crops being grown there. It was, simultaneously, an exhibit regarding the way old farms used to look and run, while also producing crops for market as a normal farm would do. We took a look around, observing the blacksmithing and wood working going on their their respective sheds.
We saw a mule hauling a cart full of freshly plucked tobacco leaves, and we followed it to the tobacco barn. We chatted with the older folk there who were expertly stringing up the tobacco leaves for drying inside the barn (I asked an older woman how long she had been stringing up tobacco, and in a thick southern drawl she replied "since I was a little girl!"). The workers asked if we would like to help a bit out and flesh out the experience for ourselves, and I jumped at the chance. I ended up stringing an entire length of tobacco leaves, and then hauling the length to the barn so it could dry. If you are planning on smoking a cigarette later, you are welcome (also, you should consider finding a healthier habit). We enjoyed walking around the grounds, introducing ourselves to the livestock, checking out the pioneer house, and the church, slamming our palms down on the bible in dramatic fashion. Carolina also played some for hole with me! After we enjoyed our time at the L.W. Paul Living History Farm, we went to the Horry County (pronounced Oh-Ree, "like the French pronunciation" Nick said) Museum in the historic Burroughs High School. Greeting us as soon as we walked in was a giant, elaborate fish tank, complete with plenty of fish, including the odd-looking 'long-nosed gar". The signboard nearby proudly explained that this fish tank had been installed during the filming of Animal Planet's original TV show "Tanked", and was one of the prides of the museum. It was a very nice fish tank. We walked around examining the exhibits, one on stuffed animals (real ones), one on the art of Clay Rice, which included beautiful portraits of silhouette art used in Rice's children's books (one of which I purchased). There was more to learn about old technology or the days of the past, of WWI and WWII and powerful women of the past. In the end, the trip to this museum was a wonderful visit, where I got to learn more about the county and ask Nick some good questions about some of the 'who's, 'where's, and 'why's. After we finished up, it was time to stop at the Pizza Inn for the lunchtime pizza buffet, something I took full advantage of. When we returned to the farm, Nicholas asked if I had any interest playing video games with him. Without getting into the pain staking details, Nicholas is a pretty accomplished video game emulator, and his favorite games were Mario Kart and Super Smash Brothers. I won't go into the game descriptions, only remark that Nicholas had found community mods (or game changes) that added user created content into both games, allowing for levels I'd never played in Mario Kart and characters I've never fought with in Super Smash Brothers, which added some novelty to games I'd played extensively through college and my adult life. After the enjoyable video game break (I managed to perform above expectations, winning strongly in both games), Nick asked if we had any interest in shooting his gun and checking our ability. I, again, was eager to fire his shotgun, though it appeared I was the only one. We were each given a half of a two liter soda bottle to fire at (mine was Diet Pepsi) and five rounds to put into them. I volunteered to go first, putting my bottle into the hillside of the wood chip pile I had been working on all week. A pretty good shot from my experiences prior to this, I put all five of my shots into my bottle from about 40 feet out, rendering the bottle nearly unrecognizable. Beilei, Suni, and Carolina all shot the gun as well, though only Beilei made it
through five shots. There was a lot of apprehension about firing a gun, something I relate to though I enjoy the practice (in the realm of sport and not hunting). After we finished shooting, we threw together the ingredients for homemade ice cream, taking turns cranking the old looking bucket until it was ready. I got to lick the beater, which was pretty awesome. Ended the day calling my parents to wish them a happy anniversary (a day early) and hearing about Cait buying her new car.
Day 7 (August 7th, 2016): The Atlantic Ocean
Sunday morning, and I spent it sleeping in until 8am again. At 9, I made my way to the house to see off Suni, as she was getting a ride with Nick to the Myrtle Beach airport, presumably to head on home to China. I was planning on driving to Myrtle Beach myself, but after I took care of my laundry at the nearby laundromat. Beilei said she was interested in joining me for the trip to the beach, but that was about it In terms of who wanted to go. Beilei and Carolina drove with Nick to drop Suni off, so I took Nicholas and myself to the laundromat. Getting a chance to wash the now nasty tank tops I was burning through during the hot work days was necessary, and we were able to knock out the trip in about an hour, grabbing lunch at Hardee's before returning to the farm around noon. When I got back, there were a few new volunteers who had arrived while we were out. Fiona, visiting from Washington, DC, was only staying for two days, while Lauren, a sophomore from Michigan University, was going to be staying for two weeks. I asked both Fiona and Lauren is they had any interest in joining the beach brigade, and they said they were interested (even though Lauren was in North Myrtle Beach just yesterday). The four of us (myself, Beilei, Fiona, and Lauren) drove off to Myrtle Beach, reaching our parking spot about an hour after leaving. We hit the beach and marked a spot with our gear before I started walking towards the ocean. It was sort of a monumental moment of sorts. I had driven the entire way across the country, by myself, all while making this huge story. By stepping into the Atlantic, I was officially at the halfway point. Without getting too dramatic, once I left that salt water, I was on my way back home to the life I was living before. Still, with reckless abandon, I bull rushed the ocean and threw myself in (after getting a video of my first steps). The water was sensationally warm and salty, something I hadn't experienced since visiting Barcelona and the Mediterranean Sea in 2010. I continually threw myself at the water, as though attempting an open field tackle in football. I feel like, though no one said it, I must have looked crazy to the new volunteers. Lauren, Beilei, and Fiona all came over. Beilei, not a very confident swimmer, enjoyed the water with Lauren close by. Lauren, in contrast, is on Michigan's swim team and probably the best swimmer of the four of us. Fiona opted just to soak her feet and take some pictures. I proceeded to fight the ocean, an homage to Pete and Pete, an old Nickolodeon show from when my sister and I were kids. We all spent a good two hours in the water or on the beach before we decided it was time for dinner. And so the second half begins, I thought, as I walked away from the Atlantic. Though, in reality, I was only half way geographically...it would still be a week or so before I was halfway through the trip in terms of time spent. At Nick's suggestion, I took everyone to Vietnam House for some real Vietnamese food, where I got the B5 with peanut sauce (Nick said to get that, immediately adding "it's so f***ing good man", which seemed as good of an endorsement as I could get). While we were all there, we could see a billboard off in the distance for Myrtle Beach's 'Ripley's Believe It or Not' attractions, including a 4-D theater, an 'Odd-itorium', a Haunted Adventure, and a Mirror Maze. The crew decided it was interested in trying one of those, and after some Yelp review reading, we settled on the Haunted House. I bought dinner for the group (Beilei had bought the meal at Pizza Inn yesterday and I was hopping to help out too), and we walked over to the boardwalk, where everything was happening. The boardwalk was a large mass of chain restaurants, neon signs, and stores trying to get you to buy henna tattoos or ugly looking brightly colored tank tops (I already had ugly tank tops...). It reminded me of a smaller iteration of Venice Beach in Los Angeles, which is not much of a
compliment. We walked the length of the boardwalk, passing a surprising number of young people in those ugly tank tops and henna tattoos, before finding Ripley's Haunted Adventure, which according to the set pieces, was taking place in a coffin factory. If you don't know this about me, haunted houses have never really done much for me. Even in the moments of those cheap 'jump' (Fiona)
scares, I'm able to keep a level head and
move on without the 'jump'. It's a point
of pride. Much more than screaming my head off, I love taking in the details of these haunted houses and making light of the situation, something that often goes unappreciated by the group I'm touring with. I'm not a buzzkill...I play along (I know that the actors in the haunted house have to get make ends meet too), but my blood level never rises and I never break my leisurely pace, even with the roar of a chainsaw behind me. Lauren, Beilei, and Fiona all mentioned before we went in that they were, ostensibly, the polar opposite of that. I promised to be the front of the line to help avoid any heart attacks, which is something the party all agreed to happily. Fiona bought our tickets (which was very considerate), and we were lead to the start of the tour. It was our group of four, along with a group of about eight members of a Hispanic family, including two rather built looking men. Still, I was the front of the line, and so we marched forward, through about fifteen rooms of loud sound effects, screaming actors, and the occasional moment where we were chased through some dark hallways by someone with a chainsaw. It was dark for most of it, and someone (either Lauren or Fiona) was grabbing at my arm so hard, their fingers were leaving marks. I was the only one not screaming, but I was enjoying the occasional offhand comment in the dark rooms. "Huh...the light in here seems to be broken..."..."These monsters seem to have a talent with black light paint!"..."Hey guys, I think that book is going to mo- *book moves* -ve. Yup. Keep your eye on that door people!". Finally, we were chased out of there, nearly all of us screaming and running. Because I chose to keep walking, I was the last one out. I exited the door to see the girls, and with a deadpan expression, I walked right up and said "You know...I'm beginning to think they don't actually make coffins in there!". Classic. We all took one more tour of the boardwalk, enjoying the ice breaking experience of fearing for our lives together, before hopping in the car and leaving Myrtle Beach. As we were leaving, Lauren wondered aloud "I wonder if real people actually live here", to which I replied "Who knows...". We drove back to the farm amidst a heat lightning storm, and crashed out.
(Nicholas, Carolina, Beilei, Ben, & Lauren)
Day 11 (August 11th, 2016): The Perseid Meteor Shower
I woke up at sunrise and knocked out my morning task of edging the yard and using a swingblade to cut tall grass near the high tunnel. The work portion of the day went by quickly. Lauren and I had quickly connected throughout the week over our shared desire to swim as much as possible after the sweaty, tough work of the day was done. This particular Thursday, I had pitched the idea of checking out the Pee Dee River, which Nick had taken everyone to last Tuesday (teaching Beilei how to swim and the 'big splash fight of 2016' were the highlights of that visit). Everyone was onboard, so I drove Nicholas, Beilei, Carolina, and Lauren out to the river, which was considerably higher than the last time we visited. A river with a strong current, we stayed relatively close to the edge (though we swam a couple of times out to the main island), throwing frisbees and other items to each other, going for diving catches and splashing a lot. As we left the river, Lauren asked if she could, for a laugh, respond to a text message for me, so I gave her my phone. Lauren then proceeded to send a bunch of nonsensical texts to my friend, while also messing with some other settings on my phone (though she was laughing the whole time and being transparent with me as I was driving). We all stopped for ice cream before making it back to the farm for sausage and grits (one of Nick's best meals yet!). I spent the hour after dinner playing guitar on the front porch as the sun set in the west, while Beilei and Carolina joined me for a bit, clapping after I finished each song (Beilei: "You sing very pretty Ben!", Carolina: "Buen musica! Mas por favor!"). After our movie of the night, I made the pitch to everyone to stay up until midnight to view the Perseid Meteor Shower, where there would be an 'outburst' of meteors between midnight and 1am (a very uncommon occurrence, happening only once every decade or so). No one bit, so I made my way out to the Fun House and spent the evening writing until 12:30. I then went outside with my folding chair and watched the meteors fly by, counting about seven before 1am showed up. Exceptionally tired and knowing I had to be up in about six hours, I laid on my bed trying to sleep before making my way to the window and watching the skies for another 20 minutes. Laying there, watching that space debris hurtle close to Earth, only to burn up in the atmosphere...I felt weirdly complete. I had made it all this way, and now I was watching this beautiful natural event I might not be able to see if I was back home in Portland (without exerting more effort, anyway). On this farm, on this journey...I am where I'm supposed to be, doing what I am supposed to be doing. Accepting this lifted a big weight off my shoulders. I fell asleep dreaming of space rocks, burning brightly as they flew through the sky, ceasing to exist moments later.
Day 14 (August 14th, 2016): A Prince Bay Send Off
I put in my last work hours of the experience today, finishing up around 9:30am. Nick called it a half day, so I didn't have to put in my last two hours, which officially ended the work portion of my visit here. I spent lots of time doing manual labor, which I had no problem with. As Nick's radiation treatments progressed, and he looked more and more exhausted with each passing day, I found meaning in doing whatever I could to alleviate any physical burden on him by working my ass off. Besides the muscle I gained, I also learned a lot about drying vegetables and herbs, how to pick seeds and which ones to pick if I wanted to replant, how to train some plants upwards and how to dress them when they got bigger, how to identify certain plants and when they are ready to harvest, and how to pull all of the weeds ever. Honestly, these are helpful skills, and ones I can use if I ever need to be self sufficient (I always ask myself how useful would this skill/information be if the world ended and I had to live off of what I knew). Knowing that tomorrow I would depart, I felt that same mix of excitement and sadness that comes with finding comfort in a place.
More so, I had made friends. Lauren, Carolina, Beilei, Nicholas, and Nick had been wonderful people to talk to, joke with, share stories with, and try new things with. It's always a sad business to leave, and I do so with a heavy heart, but I know theres more out there that I need to do. I spent the afternoon hiking around the Prince Bay property (a huge forested expanse at the back of the farm) with Nicholas, Carolina, and Beilei. We trotted around the
winding paths, only Nicholas truly knowing the way forward (though my sense of where the farm was never got fouled). I found a large stick and played Pinecone Baseball with some of the gigantic pinecones littering the grounds. Carolina took a few swings too...I think she got a home run (though I got a walk off triple, which is more impressive). We hiked for about two hours, finding hunting chairs and climbing them, making jokes and impressions of one another. I will very much miss these people when I head on...In the evening, I was strumming on Chief and singing on the front porch. As the sun started to set, I put my guitar down to walk out to the main road, and I was greeted with one of the most stunning sunsets I'd ever seen. It had stormed a bit throughout the day, and this post-storm sunset was dazzling, a burning orange mixed with flares of red and pink, with dark blue and purple on the outskirts. It's hard to put into words (though it will show up in the picture section). I went back to the house and shouted at everybody to come see it. At first, Carolina and Beilei showed up, then Lauren, then Nick, and then Nicholas. We all spent time on the front lawn of the farm, admiring the sunset (Lauren hogging the attention from Buddy, the grey kitten). We all chatted for a bit, but then stood staring in awed silence. What a send off from Prince Bay Farm. Back inside the house, Nick and I struck up a long conversation about life that ranged across many topics, including 'sex magic', drug use, past loves, and Timothy Leary. Nick also obliged me and gave some travel advice, and in return, I performed guitar for his Farm's Got Talent segment for his Facebook page, though I'm pretty sure the cicadas drowned out my rendition of "The Ballad of Love and Hate" by The Avett Brothers. I went back to the Fun House after watching The World's End with everyone for my final movie night. I stayed up late writing everyone a note and watching the stars.
The next morning, like all other departures, I took off. Nick had a radiation appointment at 9, so at 8:45, everyone gathered to send me off. Lots of hugs, lots of promises to write, a nice thank you from Nick, and I handed out the notes I had written. Then I gave Snoddy Dawg a pat on the head, hopped in my car, and took off towards Asheville. I learned a ton working on Prince Bay Farm, greatly enjoyed the company there, and found the country boy in myself who got caught up in the small joys of swimming in the river, staring at the stars, and playing guitar on the front porch right after a storm. As I drove off towards the highway, Nick's words rang in my ear "The door is always open here". It's been an amazing experience and I surprised myself by saying yes to everything along the way.
Good luck to Nick in his treatment, to Nicholas in school, to Lauren back at Michigan and Beilei at Kent State, and to Carolina back in Chile. I'm very much looking forward to visiting Prince Bay Farm again someday. For now though, it was on to three nights in Asheville, NC, the only place that could feasibly out-hipster Portland.
Lauren, Beilei, Carolina, Ben & Nick
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