AKA 5 yards of compost.
5 yards of compost equals approximately 5000 wagon loads. I am talking a small wagon here, a yard wagon, deeper but the same width and length of a radio flyer. Who would move 5 yards of dirt with a wagon ? The same person who mows an acre of grass with a walk behind mower that's who. Namely me.
My week has been spent hiking through the grass towing a wagon full of rich lovely compost. I've filled my garden beds, planted trees, topped off flower beds, transplanted, and weeded till my arms are about to fall off. There is still compost left. I have faith in myself. Faith that this is NOT like the time I over ordered chicken by confusing 4 cases with 40. Or like the guy who I bought gooseberries off of who ordered 500 instead of 50. No, I know I will use every inch of 5 yards of compost. I am just not sure I will ever be quite done hauling it.
However, it is a meditative job. Working out under the sun, while birds flit around talking to each other about the spring weather, the ocean murmurs in the background and the breeze rustles the leaves in the trees. Watching a bunny hop around, or a duck race after a bug and discover some grass. It's just me, and the dogs. And the mountain of compost. I spend a lot of time thinking of my Grandma, who spent her life tending living things, both to support her family, and also for the sheer joy of watching things grow. I think of my mom who tended growing things, as a teenager working in the fields, and then as an adult tending the minds of preschoolers. And I think of how gardens link us as a glimpse of our soul visible to others. Each one is different, showing the colors and personalities living in us (yes I said personalities - is anyone, only one personality? To quote Jacqueline Kirby -each person is at LEAST 12). My soul is evidently large, slightly haphazard, a little weedy but very enthusiastic.
The yard is starting to look lovely though, the tulips are just bursting with happiness, and even the daffodils are hanging on. The entire world is happy that it's spring. Most of all me. Because armed with a shovel, a wagon, and a mountain of compost, we will make things grow, flourish and live in this garden.
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5 yards of compost equals approximately 5000 wagon loads. I am talking a small wagon here, a yard wagon, deeper but the same width and length of a radio flyer. Who would move 5 yards of dirt with a wagon ? The same person who mows an acre of grass with a walk behind mower that's who. Namely me.
My week has been spent hiking through the grass towing a wagon full of rich lovely compost. I've filled my garden beds, planted trees, topped off flower beds, transplanted, and weeded till my arms are about to fall off. There is still compost left. I have faith in myself. Faith that this is NOT like the time I over ordered chicken by confusing 4 cases with 40. Or like the guy who I bought gooseberries off of who ordered 500 instead of 50. No, I know I will use every inch of 5 yards of compost. I am just not sure I will ever be quite done hauling it.
However, it is a meditative job. Working out under the sun, while birds flit around talking to each other about the spring weather, the ocean murmurs in the background and the breeze rustles the leaves in the trees. Watching a bunny hop around, or a duck race after a bug and discover some grass. It's just me, and the dogs. And the mountain of compost. I spend a lot of time thinking of my Grandma, who spent her life tending living things, both to support her family, and also for the sheer joy of watching things grow. I think of my mom who tended growing things, as a teenager working in the fields, and then as an adult tending the minds of preschoolers. And I think of how gardens link us as a glimpse of our soul visible to others. Each one is different, showing the colors and personalities living in us (yes I said personalities - is anyone, only one personality? To quote Jacqueline Kirby -each person is at LEAST 12). My soul is evidently large, slightly haphazard, a little weedy but very enthusiastic.
The yard is starting to look lovely though, the tulips are just bursting with happiness, and even the daffodils are hanging on. The entire world is happy that it's spring. Most of all me. Because armed with a shovel, a wagon, and a mountain of compost, we will make things grow, flourish and live in this garden.
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