Strange things are happening at Casa River this year.
First, the husband wanted to clean out the big barn ( Okay, he didn’t really. It was just a bit of organizing… but I’m counting it.)
Second, the husband helped me make a garden bed. ( I would have laid money on that never happening. )
And a week ago…
I looked out back….
And saw the husband planting a tree.
Planting! Not chopping down.
Somewhere in America, pigs are flying.
Okay, he didn’t buy them.
And only one of the three stands taller than my knee, but hey.
It’s still a miracle.
He dug them up from the wood line and I seriously doubt he got enough roots to make them viable…. which is why I told him they were going to need lots of water for the first few weeks.
Shall I give you one guess who has to drag that water to the far reaches of our property line because we only have 200 feet of hose and it won’t reach?
On a late afternoon trip to Home Depot for baby barn supplies….and okay, maybe a plant or two…. we were desperately hungry and hit the McDonalds drive thru.
If you know how much we hate McDonalds, you’ll know how desperately hungry we were.
Geranium perched between my legs, we scarfed down the (is this supposed to be edible?) food.
And while we were doing that?
They gathered.
One by one, on both sides… as well as in the front and the back.
Not wanting to re-create a Tippi Hendren phone booth scene, we ate quickly and fled.
The husband mowing the grass over the septic tank?
Not blog worthy.
But the husband mowing the grass over the septic tank with one arm because he’s done some kind of damage to his left shoulder and the appendage is hanging uselessly?
Relatively blog worthy.
It took me a week of him alternating ice packs and heating pads. A week of him moaning, groaning and being perfectly miserable before I could get him to the doctors for an exam and an X-ray.
Thankfully nothing was broken or dislocated. They said it might be muscle trauma, might be a pinched nerve. In other words they have no idea.
A weeks worth of Prednisone has helped a bit, but just when we were making baby barn headway….
It seems we’ll be looking at this a while longer.
I’m seriously beginning to think that building is cursed.
Maybe I should rethink that title…. don’t need the porn spammers dropping by again.
Anyway, after we planted our free trees the other day we had to do something with this under performing flowering plum that was now ruining the alignment.
We planted 2 of these before the big barn construction began, but one died and the survivor gets eaten alive by Japanese beetles every year. I was all for heaving it, but the husband had other ideas.
When my mother died in 2014, she was cremated and I planted some of her ashes with a lovely tulip tree in our backyard.
It did well for 4-5 years until we had crazy late spring freezes and frosts that it couldn’t tolerate.
Since I planned to replace it this year? Husband decided to do a little transplanting.
I (very helpfully) told him we’d need a bigger hole since we were moving a mature 12 year old tree with an extensive root system. With this (ever so helpful) advice, he did what he always does….. and promptly ignored it.
Digging up the plum was an absolute nightmare. The roots were thick and deep and under the topsoil? Hard clay that might as well be cement.
Our farming neighbor offered to come over with his backhoe and scoop it right up, but no.
The husband didn’t want to tear up his lawn and went with the spiderweb approach to removal.
It took us approximately two hours of digging and tugging and even then we ended up chopping what had to be 10 foot long roots.
Whoever said gardening isn’t a workout needs to be bitch slapped.
This photo caught the other half gasping for air after the last pull.
I had serious doubts the hole out back was large enough, but away we went.
Yeah, not quite.
There was a lot of twisting. And turning. And laughing. ( Okay, that was just me. Husband didn’t find it the least bit amusing. )
Some quite inventive spiderweb root trench digging later……
He made it work.
Whether it survives is anyone’s guess.
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.