Finished with this Job

I am done as a planter, until the fall, when I might go to the coast.

I planted 36 days and earned an average of "enough to buy a camera and travel around in my new (self appointed) role as 'nomadic documentarian' for the next month or so."

My other blog.

This season has been pretty comfortable. I have not been in a bush camp. As a result, I feel, the planters have been less 'wild.'

What I mean: in my land the other day I was thinking "I have not seen anybody going to the bathroom nor have I seen anybody elses' penis on my crew." I attribute this to people showering and living where there is concrete.

Will hopefully never go to a bush camp again.

Brent

Brent is an older planter.
He isn't really forthright about his age - just says things like he has been 'doing this for a while.'

I asked him some questions last night. We went to a strip bar and one of the girls danced to 'I'm on a boat.' Another girl had narrow hips and visibly strong abdominals. I gave her ten dollars just to be nice, I guess.

'Do you feel rootless, like, a vagabond?'
'Yes.'
'Do you like that?'
'Yes, sort of.'
'Do you feel a strong pressure to not be a tree planter anymore?'
'Yes.'

Brent is writing a book of stories. I don't know what he writes about. I think he is going to try to get Benny and I a job on the coast for the fall.

8 more days til the season is over for me.

His nickname is 'the doctor.'