A quiet day in the country

My whole body hurts tonight. It’s really all Ralph’s fault. He came down this morning and said, “I’m going to go clean out the leftover stakes and stuff in the garden so if it ever actually dries out, we can till.”

Now, it wasn’t intended that way, I know, but for me this was a guilt-inducing comment.

So I made some sandwiches for Ben and I (one for Ralph, too), tidied up a couple of things, put on my mud shoes, and went down to the garden. Ralph had finished his stuff there. So I pruned four rose bushes and moved three of them, dug out the raspberry starts that were doing their best to double the size of my little patch, dug up a mountain of groundberry roots, and collapsed.

Ben came down, and we went off in the RTV to mark the places where I wanted my trees. Then we picked up the mail, in the process running into Ralph who was weed-eating like crazy on the steepest hill. Ben told him what we’d been doing and he said, “I’ll be right down to help plant and fence.”

So this after noon we planted the spruce (and this is embarassing–I have to learn to do a better job of fact-checking. It’s a Sekkan Sugi, not a Siddon Sugi), the “Blue Ice” (another embarassment–it’s a cypress, not a cedar), the two maples Tom and Lisa brought me, and transplanted 7 noble firs. The first four were all fenced to deter the beaver. The others may get fenced later, or they may have to take their chances.

So now the only thing left to be put in the ground is the “heatherbun,” and it’s a good thing, too. Ralph and I are off to town to see the tax man tomorrow, and on our way home we’ll be stopping to see Merle Dean. So I’m sure there will be more trees.

My arms hurt, my legs hurt, my head even hurts a bit. But after we were finished planting today, I looked up and saw two swallows, the first I’ve seen this season. I was kind of flying right along with them.

We had a spring dinner tonight, baked chicken from a recipe on the Best Foods bottle that incorporated a lot of mayonnaise (surprise!) and Parmesan cheese, steamed rice, and fresh asparagus. It was yummy.

Now I’m on about my third glass of a good Shiraz, and I made the mistake of saying I wanted to leave at 6:30 if I could drag myself out of bed. I think my flashlight battery is charged, so I’ll take my weary flesh and blood and head of to king-size nirvana for the rest of the night.


7 Responses to “A quiet day in the country”

  1. whitishrabbit Says:

    Wow, what a day. Sweet dreams.

  2. Barbara Says:

    Oh my, I relate to those guilt-inducing comments, and to the superior medicinal qualities of good wine. I’ve started my spring cleanup outdoors, a bit at a time, and I’m not in the shape I need to be to do it, but I’m finding that weeding is cheaper than joining a gym. And I have a bumper crop of weeds, so there’s plenty of, er, gym equipment, and no waiting or parking problems.

    (from wildiris in my non-political persona)

  3. mklekacz Says:

    Rabbit, yesterday was even worse. I’m going to go write about it in a minute.

    Barbara, boy do I know what you mean. One of my friends got a bit down and out after a divorce and took a job as a motel maid. I saw her a couple of months later and she’d lost about 50 pounds, looked terrific. When I complimented her, she said, “Yup, I don’t need one of those stair-stepper things. 50-100 trips every day up and down from the second floor of the motel have done the job for me.”

  4. OmbudsBen Says:

    You’ve done body, soul, and your garden a lot of good! It’s home brewing that beats me up that much (hauling out the equipment and then storing the 2 5-gallon carboys is quite a workout) but boy do I sleep while the nights after.

    I’ll bet you will enjoy your garden all summer.

  5. mklekacz Says:

    That’s all well and good, Ben, but I’ll bet you sleep even better on tasting day.

    That’s what the shiraz was for. . .

  6. OmbudsBen Says:

    I have to be careful any more. My misspent well-spent youth is long gone, and the middle age bit is zipping right along, too. If I have more than 3 – 4 beers tops now I find I only get about 4 hours of good sleep a night and then I’m restless. The trick with not pouring a 3rd or 4th beer is remembering that after you’ve had 2 or 3.

  7. mklekacz Says:

    ;^} A favorite old saw: “Too soon old, too late schmart.”

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