... I can't STAY in here because I'm just too freakin' completely EXHAUSTED to write much at all.
I came in to say that I'm working away on the Dream Garden. Just de-sodding the rows and hoping to get a soil sample or two so I can test in the morning. It is BACK-BREAKING work. Hard, hard, hard. Everything hurts. I have to pop an Ibuprophen every night just to fall asleep and I'm stiff EVERYWHERE every morning. It's not just the cultivating, but also the Big Red-ing all of the clods after I get them harvested.
This morning, on the way to take Ryan to school, we saw three more young deer. SO beautiful. We cheered and clapped like we were BOTH little children. And then, as the deer bounded away, Ryan said, "Mom, I really love this place. I don't ever want to move again. Can we stay here forever?" I had to swallow my tears. "That's the plan, kiddo."
On the way back, I got my camera out just in case they were still there, but with my window open, I could hear that something else was there in their place: Somebody's hounds. I got out of the truck and called to them, whistled, made kissing noises. They ignored me completely and continued sniffing the ground where the deer had been.
The presence of strange dogs doesn't bother me THAT much--though, my neighbor said she saw a rogue rabid skunk in her front yard the other day... that and the sight of these dogs sent images of Cujo flitting through my mind, LOL--but the thought that maybe those hounds might be accompanied by HUNTERS, does bother me. Hunters themselves don't bother me. If they eat what they kill, I'm all for it. I've said before, I believe hunting is probably the most responsible way of being an omnivore. But hunters on my property without permission? The thought of that possibility irked me. I let my neighbors' son hunt on the land while I was gone because, well, I was gone. (I'm sure it wasn't him because I'm CERTAIN they would have called to let me know. Plus, I stipulated that he could only hunt while we weren't living on the property.)
I don't want to have to wear neon vests in my yard because of a risk of getting shot, you know? And Ryan goes running all over the woods. He seldom wears bright colors and sometimes walks out there very slowly. The thought of him getting shot makes my heart drop into my gut. So, I guess I'm going to have to get the GPS out and walk the property line. I'll get some more No Tresspassing signs and post them. I'd REALLY rather not have to do that, but seeing those beagles in my woods, made me think about it seriously.
The plan for tomorrow is to test the soil, de-sod the last two (shorter) rows, haul the clods to the clod pile, hammer the pins into the broken-down cardboard boxes on the walkways between the rows, shower and head into town. The test should let me know if I need to get any soil amendments. Either way, I think I'm going to buy some topsoil go mix with the clay. Even if it's not a matter of pH, the texture has an OBVIOUS need of loam-esque soil to be mixed in. If I have to get compost, I'll probably wait until next week and in the mean time, try to find some organic stuff somewhere. If it needs lime, I can get that at Lowe's.
Oh, guess WHAT? The tomatoes are germinating!!!!!
Okay, I'll leave you with some pix, now and go pop my pill. LOL!
Ryan running around in the woods:
Spaded (but not cultivated) rows:
Spaded rows with house:
HOUSE!!! (notice the new great deck... yet to be stained and sealed):
My funky, MAUVE, rubber boots:
Boxes destined to be walkway cardboard:
Cardboard ready for the garden... wish I had more, actually:
De-sod-clodded row! (notice the pile of clods in the walkway, waiting to be loaded into Big Red):
Big Red full of clods!
Sod Clod pile (it's twice as big as this now... maybe more):
Ryan's "machines" (he builds these complicated machines that produce electricity or get milk out of rocks... cool, huh?):
Taking a break:
Speaking of..... G'night y'all!!!