Aunt Klara's Farm by General Galveston

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After driving for six hours along the open roads and fields of the countryside, they had finally reached their destination. They turned the corner and caught their first glimpse of it. A small, unassuming farmhouse, flanked by a much larger barn, around which were several animal pens. Behind these buildings lay the farm’s mainstay, wide fields of ripe strawberry plants, neatly laid out in rows. The sign they saw as they drove in was unmistakable - GELLER FARM, written in large bold letters.

The car came to a halt. "Before we go in, are you sure you have everything you need?" his mother asked him. "Yes", replied Erik, "But I still don’t see what the point of this is." His mother smiled and looked at him kindly. "It’ll be a good experience for you, you’ll learn how to work with your hands." She said enthusiastically. "Plus", she added, "being a farm boy for a few weeks might toughen you up a little!" She gave him a light punch in the arm.

He considered this for a moment. He did want to become tougher. He’d always been sort of scrawny and didn't have much muscle on him. Plus, while his friends would talking about having done the usual summer things, he could tell them about what it was like working in the fields, really roughing it. How cool would that be?

"Okay", he finally replied. "Great" she said, "Now let’s go meet Aunt Klara." They, got out of the car, walked to the door and knocked. Klara Geller, his mother’s sister, quickly answered the door. "Hi Fiona", she greeted her sister casually, "and you’re Erik, I haven't seen you for a few years." Aunt Klara looked him up and down. "You’ve got pretty long hair for a boy", she remarked. Erik didn't know what to say to that. His hair was long, just the way he liked it. Nobody he knew had ever really commented on it.

Sensing that he was uncomfortable, his mother broke the silence. "Is there anyone else at the farm right now?", she asked. "No", Klara replied, "The workers don’t arrive till next week. I thought it would be nice to start Erik on the harvest a little early, so he can get familiar with the work."

Fiona nodded. "Well, he’s very excited to get started!", she exclaimed, putting her hand on Erik’s shoulder. He wouldn't exactly characterise himself as "excited", but he smiled nevertheless. "Glad to hear it", Klara said. "I need a good, hardworking young man to pick those strawberries."
"Well, I’d better go now", his mother exclaimed. "Everything Erik needs is in his backpack." She turned and hugged him. "Bye Erik, see you in three weeks", she said, smiling. Then she walked back to the car and drove off. He watched until she was out of sight, then turned to Aunt Klara. "Well", she said, "you’d better come in." He followed her inside. "You’re bed’s up in the loft", she explained, pointing at a stepladder. "You can put your backpack up there and then come down for supper. I’ve made some beef stew. You can start work in the morning." "Yes ma’am" he said simply. It seemed the right thing to say.


It was hard work picking strawberries. The technique was simple enough but the effort required to fill just one basket was significant. Erik had to pick them one at a time to avoid crushing them. The same action over and over again. He’d been working working for three hours and he’d only managed to fill four of the baskets Aunt Klara had given him.

And on top of it all was the heat. The scorching July son furiously beat down on his neck and arms and legs. He’d have a real farmer tan if he kept this up for three weeks. Sweat trickled everywhere on his body. He wore a hat but it didn't stop his sweaty hair from itching like crazy.

After enduring this for a couple more hours, Erik went inside for his lunch break. Aunt Klara was in the kitchen when he walked in, she saw him as he sat down. "Working hard eh?", she asked drily. "Yeah", he said, feeling exhausted. "Well, there’s corn for lunch if you’re hungry." she told him.

Erik took off his hat and scratched his hair aggressively. Aunt Klara looked at him with concern. "That sweaty mop must really be bothering you", she said, frowning. "Yeah, it’s pretty hot out there", he said, too tired to pay that much attention to her. "I knew it was too long, I think you need a haircut", she said.

"A haircut", he repeated. She stood up and walked toward a kitchen cabinet. "Yes, that hair’s too long for this heat. I had three boys and I kept all their heads nicely shaved during the summer. Boys don’t need long hair, in fact I’ve always thought they don’t need any hair at all." She retrieved something from the cabinet and walked back towards him. Only then did he see what she was holding - a pair of scissors and a hair clipper.
This sight finally roused him from his tiredness. "Wait, no!", he protested. "You can’t cut my hair!" Unable to think of anything else, Erik added: "I’ll tell my mother!" Klara looked very calm and undeterred. "While you’re under my roof, you follow my rules", she said definitively, "I’m don’t think your mother will care much. She put you under my authority after all. Anyways, she didn't argue against you having long hair like she should have, I’m sure she won’t say anything against it being short. Who knows? She might even like it better. Now sit down and let’s get this over with."

Unable to protest against this brutal logic any further, Erik sat down. Klara put the clipper and scissors on a small table and left the room. She returned a minute later with a towel and put it around his shoulders. "There, now we can start", she declared. She took the scissors and began cutting his hair.

He winced as he heard the snip of the scissors and saw long strands of his hair fall to the floor. She continued ruthlessly and efficiently, and he could start to feel how much hair was coming off. She stopped cutting for a moment and he ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn't believe it, his hair had never been this short before!

Hoping that this would satisfy Klara, Erik tried to reason with her. "Isn't that enough?, my hair’s really short now!", he said desperately. Klara was unimpressed. "No, I’m not done yet. It’s all got to come off", she declared. Then she turned on the hair clipper.

He was still unhappy, but he had run out of arguments and sat there silently as she began to buzz his hair off. She began from the bottom of his neck, the clipper producing an odd sensation as he felt the vibration. After she was done with the back of the head, she started on the sides.

She made firm and decisive strokes with the clipper and it was obvious that she was very experienced at cutting hair. She’d mentioned buzzing her son’s heads. Erik wondered whether they had protested like him or silently submitted. Klara would be an intimidating mother to have, especially since she seemed to believe it her duty to keep the heads of all boys on her farm neatly shaved.

She had finished clipping the sides and now moved to the top. She held his head with one hand and began applying the clipper with the other. She made short work of the top and then ran the clipper over his head one last time to capture any stray hairs that might have escaped her.

"All done", she proclaimed, with pride in her voice, "now you’re ready to be a real farm boy." Erik felt his head for the second time. Even now he was still shocked. She had completely shaved his head, with not a trace of hair remaining. Aunt Klara only smiled at his open mouth and said: "you’ll get used to it. And if you don’t, that’s just too bad."

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