The Dirty Truth

Sometimes I am sure the universe hates me.  Other times I think I'm its favorite creation.  Today was a little of both.

The dirt.

A week ago I was expecting my 5 cubic yards of dirt/compost to be dropped off, but it rained like hell that day and I was dreading the drop (moving mud in muddy grass seemed more horrible than dirt), and I wanted to cancel it myself, but I figured it was too late.  7:30 came and went.  8 came and went.  By 8:20 I was irritated because they were almost an hour late and I received no call saying they were running late or canceling.  So I called the nursery and a guy answered.  When I identified myself he said, "Oh, right, I had you on my list to call today."  At some point today he planned to call.  Apparently they can't drop dirt if it's wet.  I found this out because *I* called *them* an hour after my scheduled drop.  I was perturbed.  They'd already charged my card, and with a week of rain expected, I wondered if I should get a refund, but I let it go.  Friday I received a call rescheduling my drop for 7:30 this morning.  Adam, in the office, was nice and we laughed about the incessant rain, the expectation of good weather, and we were both very hopeful it would go swimingly.  At 8 this morning there was still no dirt and the weather was fine.  At 9 I started calling the nursery, livid.  There was no answer until 10, when I got Adam again and he was baffled about why my drop hadn't occurred.  It took him about an hour to find out that after he called his scheduling manager on Friday to tell him I was first on Monday, the manager promptly forgot to put it down.  I got a little irritated, said to Adam this was my second vacation day taken for dirt, and now I was going to have to take a third, each time sitting around for hours wondering where my dirt is and why no one is calling me.  He managed to get a special drop to me by 12:30.

Here is my dirt.

It's a long walk from my driveway to the back of my house, and the wheelbarrow and shovel were about to get the workout of their lives.

 

I'd put down cardboard to kill all the grass, but grass is really resilient, stupid grass.  Anyway, for the record, cardboard makes everything harder. 

I worked at it alone for a while, then I got help and it went much faster.  As in, it took all day instead of taking multiple days.  Many weird items were found in the soil mix that made me question the "organic compost" they were selling me.  I found lots of packaging tape, a crushed pop can, lots of electrical cables, chunks of unidentifiable glass and plastic, a cable cord, and other man-made objects.

By far, my favorite discovery was this guy. 

Hello, sir or madam.  How do you do?  Welcome to my garden.  There will be countless bugs for you to munch on.  I hope you find it hospitable and a happy place to live out your life. 

He/she did not like being in my hand.  My pet frogs used to love it because my hand was warm and they'd nestle in and sit there happily forever.  Not so here, but that's okay.  He/she was probably in shock from such a dramatic trip. 

 When all was finally put into the raised beds, I couldn't even celebrate, I was so exhausted.  My back hurts.  My legs hurt.  My soul hurts.

But they are done!  I am so thrilled!  And it is supposed to rain more this week to pack down the dirt so I can level it off better (note to self: need a rake, not a pooper-scooper) and hopefully start planting soon.

So, this is where I'm sure to be spending much of my time in the upcoming months.  I'm stoked.  And I want some damn zucchinis now!