The phone rings, in my hurry to get it I stumble over the cat. “Sorry, Fred.”
“Hello.”
“Hi, whatcha doing?” asks my friend Angele.
“I’m going through the paper, looking at jobs, want to come with me and drop off some resumes?”
“That’s what I’m calling you about, I’ve been told that the MNR (Ministry of Natural Resources) will be hiring tree planters, I’m applying, you interested?”
“Umm, what is that?”
“Duh, you plant trees.”
“Ok, smart *** have you ever done it?”
“No, but how hard can it be, besides the pay is good.”
“How good?”
“$18 per hour.”
“Ok, where do we apply?”
“We can go to the MNR office, drop off our resumes.”
“Mine isn’t done.”
“Can you be ready for noon?”
“Sure.”
“Cya then, bye.”
I finish my resume, then have a shower. What does one wear to apply for a tree planters’ job? Jeans? Definitely jeans. Tee shirt? Just not the pink, girly one. Hair? Leave it long, a ponytail or braids? Long it is, tucked behind my ears. Makeup? You would not wear makeup to tree plant. Well, no job yet so a touch of mascara, pink lip gloss, a spray of Obsession perfume, I’m ready.
I hear Angele’s car. Grabbing my purse and resume I head out the door.
“Hey.”
Looking at her, I’ve over thought my clothes, she’s wearing cut off jean shorts, a pink tee shirt, cute Roman sandals on her feet. I look at my scuffed runners, ‘ugh.’
Backing out of the driveway she tells me we’re picking up our friend Dianne, she wants to apply too.
“Cool. Angele, you like your job at the grocery store, why leave?”
“I do, but this is too good to pass up.”
“Yes, but we’ll be looking for jobs again come the end of summer.”
“Ya, but that’s the good part for me, I can always go back to the store.”
“Umm, if you say so.”
“Hey, they like me there.”
“Maybe not after you quit.”
“True.”
We pull up in front of Dianne’s house. Honk
We all say ‘Hi.’
The speakers blare The Clash as we head to the MNR office. It’s a sunny, warm April afternoon. Windows down, breeze ruffles our hair.
After handing in our resumes we drive around, talking, laughing, enjoying ourselves.
“I hope we all get calls, I’m so bored with my job at the pharmacy.” Dianne says.
“Wow, it would be so cool, the three of us working together!” I say to them.
We make a pact to call each other if or when we get a call. A few days pass. No call for me. In the meantime I’ve dropped off other resumes. Angele is the first to call with the news she is hired. She starts on May first.
“Did you get a call?” she asks me.
“Nope.”
“Well, they’re starting to make calls.”
“Ok, I’m happy for you, have you told the store yet?”
“Yes, they said to come see them when tree planting is over, they’ll see if they have anything for me.”
“Cool.”
“Talk to ya later.”
“Bye.”
‘Shit’ she got a call and not me, ‘hmmm’ maybe I better take the next job I get a call for.
Next morning, around nine, I’m in my Minnie mouse pajamas, sipping coffee, teasing Fred with string when the phone rings.
“Hello.”
“Cynthia?”
“Yes.”
“Hello, this is Tammy from the MNR office, we’d like to know if you’re available to start work as a tree planter for May first.”
“Yes, I can.”
“Good, come to the office today, we’ll do the paperwork and give you a list of things required for the job.”
“Thank you, I’ll be there soon.”
Doing my happy dance I call the girls. I have five days until I start. Dianne is the last of us to get the call to work.
It’s Sunday, day before my first day of work, I’m ticking things off the list, filling my backpack. Steel toe work boots, rain suit, toilet paper, bug dope, sunscreen, spare clothing, water, lunch. No jewelery. MNR will issue gloves, hard hats, puttaputki. Ok, all was good until puttaputki, what the heck is a puttaputki? I’m sure to find out tomorrow.
My bus pick up and drop off is only a half block away. I’m to be there by six thirty am, sharp.
Monday morning, the alarm goes off at five, ‘ugh’. Reaching to shut it off, rolling out of bed, yawning, rubbing my eyes, I tug off my gown on the way to the bathroom. The hot shower does the trick to wake me, the sweet, scented coconut lotion I slather on after smells delicious. Wrapped in a big bath towel I make a toast with cheez whiz and drink a glass of milk. I had gone through my clothes last night to find the ‘right’ tree planter attire.
Old, faded jeans, white tank top, dark blue button up shirt, grey wool socks, pink bra and panties. I quickly French braid my hair. I tie on a headband, made of a red bandana. Tugging on my new work boots, I take a quick look at the clock, time to go. Tucking my lunch and drinks in the pack, I tie the drawstring tight, buckle the straps, it’s bulging with stuff.
At my stop I’m the only one there. The backpack sits at my feet. I look down the street, hoping I haven’t forgotten anything, ‘oh well too late now.’ A knot in my tummy, cause it’s a first time thing. The bus stops at me, swoosh the door opens. I hoist up my pack, climb the stairs.
“Good morning.” The lady driver says.
“Hi.”
A quick scan of the bus, no one I know. The bus is about half full. The ages, sizes of the women vary. Some drink coffee out of cups from their own kitchen. I pick a seat by myself hoping one of my friends join me. We get close to where Angele lives. I see her, wave to her, she makes her way to me, throws her pack up on the rack above our seat, plunks down beside me.
“Hey, Cyn.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I bet Dianne is on another bus.”
“Aww, I thought we’d all be together.”
“Ya, well with three buses, what are the chances we’d all end up together.”
“Ya, I guess.”
“Cyn?”
“Ya?”
“You don’t have perfume on, do you, cause I smell something sweet, and it’s you!”
“Umm, not perfume but I have body lotion on, why?”
“Do you realize that bugs like sweet smelling stuff?”
“Awww, ****.”
“Well, the days are still cool, let’s just hope it does not get too warm.”
I sigh, wondering what else will happen today, going to be a learning day for sure.
We settle in for the ride. Driving a half hour down the main highway, then another half hour down an old logging road. We lurch to a stop, there are two other buses, several MNR vehicles and twenty uniformed MNR staff waiting.
We troop off the bus. They group us in lots of ten. Angele is not in my group. I mouth a ‘cya later’ to her. I look at my ‘crew’, most are older than me. A man approaches our little group.
“Good morning ladies, I’m your crew supervisor.”
“My name is Richard ****.”
You could have heard a pin drop, that is how quiet we all are, not a sound. I look at my feet, the sky, not trusting myself to look at anyone else, scared I might laugh or at the least smile.
He begins to hand out gloves, hard hats. He pulls a bright blue implement out of a box. “This is a puttaputki. It’s one piece, you snap it open, it resembles a small shovel, with a barrel like attachment running it’s length. You will dig a hole, about six inches deep, the claws hold the dirt, you deposit the dirt beside the hole, take a tree, drop it in the cylinder, it slides through the hole, with your boot, move the dirt around it, stamp it, the tree will be upright, planted.”
“Any questions?”
No one says anything.
“Trees are to be planted roughly five feet apart, in a straight line. Leave your backpacks here for now, I’ll bring them later.”
We are given sacks of trees in a sling holder, they resemble big purses. He lines us up, tells us to start, he’ll bring us trees to refill our bags when we need them.
I attempt my first planting, sinking the shovel into the ground, clink! Hitting rock, I move to the right, try again. This time it slides in the ground, I bring up the dirt, set it beside the hole, grab a tree, insert it in the barrel, it slides down, it’s sitting perfectly in the ground, pulling dirt over with my boot I stamp it around the tree. Satisfaction, I did one!
The sky is bright blue, sun warms me as I work. Around me I hear women talking, singing, whistling while they work. I’m quiet, just wanting to get the hang of it.
Lunch time. We have a half hour. Finding rocks, we sit, close enough to talk. I rustle in my pack, finding my peanut butter and jam sandwich. After I devour that I have a banana. Next I open a bag of salt and vinegar chips, and a Coke. I look sheepishly at the woman beside me.
“I’m so hungry.”
“Me, too.” “I’m Linda.”
“Hi, I’m Cindy.”
We all exchange names. Everyone seems to be talking at once. I hear a giggle, someone says “Richard ****, when he said his name I thought I was going to die right there.” Lots of laughter.
I feel a blush on my cheeks, some crude and funny things are said of our crew boss. Lunch time is over, back to work.
Our tree bags full, we start planting again. After planting for awhile I notice we are coming to the edge of a swamp.
“Umm, Linda?”
“Yes?”
“Do we plant in the swamp?”
“Yeppers.”
Another “UGH.” Out of me.
Turns out it is easier to plant in swamp. Once you get used to your feet being wet, smelly swamp water, sometimes to your knees. I stand there trying to untangle some trees in my tree sling. I’m losing my balance.
“SHIT!”
I’m lying on my back in the swamp. Struggling with my tree bag, I haul myself upright. The women who can see me are laughing.
“Could you not wait for a dry place for a nap?” someone yells out.
A grin from me, “Nope.”
I pray the day is done soon.
Out of the swamp, walking on dry ground my boots make a gurgling sound with every step I take. From the back I’m sure I look like I peed myself.
We have a half hour walk back to the bus. Our packs get to ride the four wheeler with our supervisor.
Angele catches up with me as I’m climbing on the bus.
“What happened to you?”
“Fell in the swamp.”
“HAHAHA.”
“Laugh it up, maybe one day you can try it!”
I toss my pack on the floor by my feet. Slump in the seat. My damp jeans feel icky against my skin. My feet ache. I smell.
“Hey Pippy, wanna gum?” Angele asks me.
Grinning, I hold out my dirty palm.
Leaning my head against the window, the trees a green blur to my eyes, the bus rolls on.
So ends the first day of tree planting. I’m looking forward to a shower, dry clothes, all the comforts of home.
Bring on day two!

fantastic!!! and still....such a girl...