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Hudson,
N.Y.
Mon., Sept. 21, 1925
Leaving
the Morowskis' on Friday, we headed for Hudson where Bill
wants to look into a cement plant. Because of a puncture
just as it was getting dark, it behooved us to camp immediately.
While Bill labored on the tire I scouted out a peach of
a site, near a garden loaded with vegetables, and picked
up four rather passe tomatoes and two shriveled ears of
corn, from the ground. Somehow, it seemed perfectly ethical
to walk into someone's garden and help myself to inferior
produce, fallen off the stalk. Be that as it may, I l soon
had my "come?up?ance," as the Irish say. With
my booty safely in the motorcycle, I got permission to camp
on the hill, from a man walking towards us. Then, noticing
a perfectly good ear of corn on the road, I picked it up.
Thereupon the man called out to help ourselves to corn and
tomatoes, as he had more than he could use.
Bill swears he could tell by the twinkle in the man's eye
that he saw me raiding his garden and was heaping coals
of fire on my head. But I think he only saw me picking up
the corn in the road, and out of the kindness of his heart,
gave us the vegetables. At any rate, I surely felt cheap.
Three days after leaving our vegetable garden camp we still
have corn and tomatoes. The corn, slightly old to eat on
the cob, had made luscious fritters with the honey Mother
sent us, making a hit with Bill.
Our new location, outside of Hudson, is not far from a pump,
and also has a pear orchard handy. And, what is more, we
obtained permission to pick the pears. Our tent is pitched
under a cedar tree with a barberry bush at its base. Along
the fence grow wild grapes and bittersweet. In the nearby
field scrubby sumac and purple asters set off each other.
We certainly are lucky in finding charming places to camp.
Saturday we went through the cement plant that Bill wanted
to see, finding it efficient and well run.
A queer thing happened on Sunday. It was easy to do our
week's washing with our two canvas pails and the nearby
pump, and afterwards I hung it on a low line. Upon returning
from a long walk with Bill I noticed a lot of grasshoppers
on the clothes. Closer inspection showed certain garments,
the woolens and silks, were simply riddled with tiny holes,
while the cottons were not eaten at all. I caught a couple
of grasshoppers in the act of devouring my only pair of
silk stockings. How pure their taste is?nothing cheap or
sleazy for them! I can understand now what a terrible thing
the plague of grasshoppers in the Bible must have been.
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