T is for Tools of the Trade

It's the end of my first full day on the farm at Santa Cruz. My hands are a bit roughened but satisfied by the first visceral task of a farm apprentice: preparing the tools of the trade.

Fork and spade. While I've certainly gardened before, I received my new tools in half-awe like a kid using pens for the first time. I wanted to enjoy the newness of a moment that wouldn't come again.

Tools in hand, today I learned the ready-bought shellack coating the wood is more suited for home gardening than farming. Intended for protection, the coat causes the tool to eventually crack after long use and exposure to the elements. The wood endures best over time if it can breathe...much like people, it seems.

We laboriously scraped off shellack by hand, strip by strip, sanded it down until smooth, and rubbed the bare wood with linseed oil. It took me over 2 hours to prep my tools, and I was tempted at times to leave it half-finished. But I realized, why shortchange the process? Why leave a task undone, as though someone else will do it for me, or it will do itself? It was surprising to see my patience wear thin at a repetitive task for a tool that, with good care, could help to grow food for a lifetime. When I finally finished removing the coat, and sharpening the spade until it could cut clean through a blade of grass, it felt good.

It made me reflect on how the tools of the trade - any trade - are living things. I thought of my father, a doctor, and the meticulous way he'd care for his hands - vessels of healing more so than the stethoscope or the scalpel. I recalled the sharpening of chef knives, of polishing and storing, not just for practicality but also pride. I remember how our kumu hula, dance teacher, would guide the hula troupe to prepare gourd drums, harvest ferns and flowers for lei instead of buying them, and urge us to become familiar with the dance implements like they were family. And I remember watching a musician tune a guitar with a distant look in her eyes, seeking just the right note.

These relationships of knowing defy the throwaway culture now prevalent in the US. Things that last a lifetime have become foreign, and instead we face an endless parade of iPads, cellphones and disposable commodities that promise to be better, faster, smaller, more convenient...and instead have short lifespans, becoming obsolete far too quickly and out of reach for many.

Heirlooms are not only diamonds and gold. Maybe one day I will pass on to a grandchild a well-worn spade and fork, burnished with years of working the soil. I will tell her these are hers to use and they are good for growing food.