What is your dirt doing in the warden's hole?!

So this actually happened a while ago but it took this long for me to be able to operate my hands again.

As you may recall, we hired our cousin Doug to help us with the landscaping. He has his own business and is a machine in terms of getting things done. Generally he is also full of useful information and tips about how to proceed with our landscape work. Then, sometimes he's not.

We wanted to put two new trees into the barren mudscape in front of the house. Any fool knows that this involves digging, and to be macho I decided that I would do ALL of the digging myself. Doug, scheduled to show up Sunday morning with the trees, was all too happy to tell me how big the holes needed to be - roughly 5' in diameter and 3' deep. (any of you who know better can stop reading now and go jump off a cliff).

Saturday was 115 degrees and sub-tropically humid. Reagan, who usually wears a parka into July, was seen in shorts. The sun burned down like a burning sun, facing down. Our neighborhood organization had organized its annual community yard-sale. There was a crowd.

I awoke early and went for a run with our dog who knew better.

Then at 9 I grabbed my brand-new shovel and went to work.

Eight and a half hours later, I had bored two holes into the rock pile that we call a front yard, and I was 5 inches shorter.


me and my hole.


These children had clever parents who told the older child that I was hunting for treasure, and the younger child that dirt tasted good. I didn't see the parents from 11 am to 3 pm. The little viper in the green shirt spent half the day kicking dirt back into the holes as I was trying to dig them.

Somehow, Sunday morning I regained consciousness and Doug arrived with the trees. In a casual sort of way he said, "why are those holes so big?" Sort of like you might say, "hey there friend, why is there so much water coming into this boat?" or "Nice day isn't it, why are you dragging that bicycle under your car."


Here I am filling in one of the holes to the required depth of 9". Notice the pile of rocks that I was too weak to throw at Doug's head.


Here is Doug putting the finishing touches on the "backfill." Thanks for the help Doug. Don't get tired though.


All that is left for me now are the memories.


But in addition to a severe stoop, we got two nice new trees in the deal. The one on the left is a Red Bud and the one on the way right is a Dogwood.


Red Bud


Here I am being held up by a hose.