Perfect Fingers

by

Myron Night

Chapter 54

The hay in the lower pasture is ready to be cut, and though it is my childcare day, I decide to scythe the pasture while I oversee Anna and Eli. Jake is at the school.

It is mid-morning, but the sun in the lower pasture is already hot. The insects buzz. Toddlers Anna and Eli, stripped down to their diapers and plastic pants, play happily together in the tall grass.

For days, I have been carefully sharpening the antique scythe with a whetstone. The scythe has two little wooden handles that jut out from the long, gracefully curved wooden shaft. I hold one of the wooden handles in each hand, and rhythmically swing the scythe by twisting my torso from one side to the other. The cutting stroke is to the left, finishing high, then the return stroke draws the scythe back to the right. Then I take a small step forward and begin another stroke. The tall, dry stalks of grass fall neatly with each pass of the scythe, which makes a satisfying swishing sound through the grass.

Every now and then, I glance up at the nearby kids, to make sure they are ok. And they seem to be content, happily engaged in their play with rocks, sticks and stalks of grass at the edge of the field.

I start to sweat. This is really good work. I get completely absorbed in the swinging rhythm of the scythe, cut to the left, return to the right, and the little step forward. Left, right, step. Repeat. Left, right, step. Repeat.

The mechanical rhythm of this procedure is pleasing. What if I were a machine? Stroke-stroke-step. Stroke-stroke-step. With each cutting stroke, the sharp point of the blade flashes high into the air above my left shoulder...

I perceive a movement to my left, at the periphery of vision. Before I can check my momentum, the scythe blade swishes up to the left, and, as I look to my left, there is Eli, and the scythe blade swishes in the air high above his blonde head.

The scythe drops back to the center and falls to the ground in front of me. My hands are shaking. Was that as close as it seemed? Maybe not. But maybe it was. What if...? Perhaps having the children run loose while I use the scythe is not such a good idea.

Eli stands at the edge of the swath of cut hay and looks up at me with his blue eyes. He shakes his golden curls and grins. Behind him, Anna carefully picks her way through the tall grass to join us.

I take a deep breath. I hold out my hand.

”Here, Eli, let’s go over to the water trough.”

He takes my hand.

“Here, Anna,” I say, reaching out to her.

It is only about twenty feet to the edge of the pasture and the watering trough beside the gate, an old bathtub set up on concrete blocks. A black plastic pipe sticks out of the ground beside it, with a faucet on the end. Since we have not been grazing the cow recently in the lower pasture, the tub has only a few inches of cloudy water in the bottom, and some dead grass. I pull the plug and drain the tub. I scoop out the dead grass. I run some fresh water in, and wipe the sides and bottom with my hands. When the tub is clean, I replace the plug and let the fresh water run into it.

The sun is now straight overhead, and it is hot enough for the children to enjoy a cooling dip in the trough. One at a time, I lift them in. They stand side-by-side facing me, and clutch the side of the tub with their grimy fingers. They laugh as they splash the cool water with their feet. I let the tub fill to their knees, then shut off the water.

“Happy now, babies?” I ask.

They laugh and smile and shout and splash their feet.

I walk back and pick up the scythe, pleased with myself for attending to the children’s safety in this clever way.

“Hi, Anna! Hi, Eli!” I call out to them, and they look at me with their clear, bright eyes, and shake their heads and dance in the water.

I begin the scything again. Every few strokes, I glance back at the children, glad to see them having such a good time.

I get back into the rhythm, gaining momentum. Stroke-stroke-step. I make my turn at the end of a row and give the kids another look.

Something isn’t right. I see the tub, I see Anna holding onto the edge of the tub, bouncing up and down. But where is Eli?

I drop the scythe and run quickly to the trough. There is Eli, lying on the bottom of the tub under the water, looking up at me, his eyes wider than I have ever seen them before. His little mouth makes fish-like movements, his arms and legs flutter against the slippery sides of the tub, trying to find a purchase to pull himself up.

I plunge both hands into the water, grab under his arms, and lift him out. He chokes and coughs, water dribbles out of his mouth. I turn him upside-down and slap him on the back. He spews water, his throat clears, he cries out lustily. I turn him right-side-up and set him on my hip, my arm curled around him. His little arms flutter, still trying to pull himself out of the water, though he is safe in my arms. His crying is loud, angry and frightened.

Anna clings to the edge of the tub. She coos and bounces up and down in the water.

I think I am done with scything for today.