I worked with an Alabama nurse named Minerva at a nursing agency in Texas--we were bonded by our country girl backgrounds. She came by her name from a mother who was into Roman mythology at the time of her birth. Minerva preferred to be called "Minnie" because she said no one understood Minerva--when people heard that, they thought of "nerves." Being called Minnie was just as bad, because when she introduced herself as Minnie, sometimes people would say "Minnie Pearl!"

Minnie was tall with reddish hair and freckles, and married to a hometown boy and they were stationed in Texas with the Army. They weren't getting along well at all. He had a temper and felt constrained by marriage and wanted out. They lived in a teeny apartment off base, surrounded an all sides with other apartments and parking spaces. Some of the apartments had a little balcony, but not theirs. Spring came and Minnie the country girl got an insatiable urge to walk barefoot in new turned dirt and plant something. She showed me some seed packets she had in her purse.

After a particularly bad spat, her husband left and said he was divorcing her. Minnie was upset at work that night and said she would go back to Alabama to her parent's farm in a few weeks. Driving back to her apartment after our shift was over, she passed a field of grass; some rich rancher's place with hundred's of acres of pasture. Far in the distance over gently rolling hills she could see the top of a red barn. Along the pasture fence she could see where the owner had replaced some fence posts; newly dug rich black dirt was piled against the new posts.

Minnie circled around until she could go back and park as close to the fence as possible. She took the seed packets of cucumber and squash and flowers and went through a ditch up to the fresh dirt and planted the seeds. Dirt smudged her uniform, but what did it matter. She was leaving Texas behind. Minnie was so intent it wasn't until she heard the snort of a horse that she looked up to see a man on a big bay horse, cowboy boots in his stirrups, cowboy hat sitting nicely on his head, looking at her. He had been riding the fenceline and saw a woman with her hands in the dirt. Oh Boy, she thought. I'm in trouble. He'll probably call the law. He asked "What are you doing?"

She mutely showed him the seed packets. "Country girl, eh?" She nodded. "My name is Minerva," she said, "This is good dirt." She reached over the fence with a grimy hand. "I know I'm tresspassing or something. I'll leave now, okay?" The man studied her and nodded, turned the bay on its heels and rode away, pausing once to watch her car pull onto the road. Three weeks passed and Minnie looked at the fence posts every time she passed. She could see green sprouts and her heart soared knowing the seeds had sprouted. She stopped once, looking around for the bay and the cowboy, and not seeing him, she weeded her plants. She didn't know the cowboy had come to the fence almost every day, looking for her.

The plants flourished; squash bloomed and cucumber vines climbed the fence, flowers were starting to bloom. She stopped one last time on the way back to Alabama. I'm leaving Texas behind, she thought as she looked in her rear view mirror. I'll never come here again. The squash and cucumbers were producing luxurianly. The cowboy came and found out she was leaving Texas, probably forever. Their hands touched through the fence.
The plants started to die off as high summer came; and the cowboy thought of the red haired girl every day. He remembered the company nametag she wore and contacted them. After going in person to the company office, he cajoled the owner into giving him the name and address of the Alabama girl.

Can I only say that after months passed and many phone calls and letters back and forth, Minnie did what she never thought she would. She came back to Texas and married that cowboy and lives with him on their ranch--and every spring he puts aside the bay horse and helps her plant a garden in that "good dirt."

susil. PS Happy Earth Day


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