Dabbling in Dirt

Having considered the matter these past few days, I've determined that literal dirt, like the figurative kind, is best kept to oneself.

It started with an idea I had last Wednesday.  Obviously, when it came to the excess dirt in the south garden bed, shovelling it into the cart and then bagging it up or whatever was not going to work.  Then, too, the possibility of coming with a pickup truck seemed increasingly remote.  If I were going to get this soil to my friends' house, I'd have to think of another way.

Well, how about this?

I took one of my big wheeled trash bins, and lined it with a 45 gallon lawn bag.  I then shovelled the dirt into it-- twelve scoops per bag worked out all right--then wheeled it over to the side of the yard, tipped the trash bin over, hauled out the dirtbag (sorry, couldn't resist), and slung it up on the rock mulch under the Norway maple.  Where it could lie pending further ideas.

I think there's 16 or 17 bags here, all told

Did three bags like this on Wednesday, and was thinking of asking my friends if they knew anybody with a truck who'd be willing and able to help.  But Thursday came and I was looking at my front yard.  At the need for soil in the new garden bed where the sod as dug out.  At the rest of the lawn where I've dug out all that soil to try to root out the nutsedge.  I'd planned the make up the difference with compost, but unless I wanted to commit myself to a major tilling operation, that wouldn't make sense.  Even if the yellowjackets let me get to it, it wouldn't make sense to try to grow grass in compost.

So I shifted gears.  Mentally, I mean.  I kept on loading up the bags-- even though it was raining when I started and I wasn't all that thrilled about it-- but with a different destination in mind.  For while I dislike being an Indian-giver (i.e., making promises then going back on them), I see I need the dirt from my backyard in my front yard more than my friends in New Brighton do in theirs.  And as depressing and onerous and Volga-boatmen-convicts-hauling-the-barges a process somehow schlepping those bags of dirt to my front yard would be, trying to boost them into the back of my PT Cruiser and unloading them again in New Brighton would be even worse.  Not to say impossible doing it single-handedly, but close to it.

Got the tomato bed flattened out before time to head for work. So at least that was done.

Almost there

That afternoon, too, I talked on the phone to my friends, explained the haulage problem, and begged off.  Happily, it was okay with them-- I think half of it on their part was wanting to do me a favor and give me a place to put the dirt.

That was one very heavy problem solved, or at least eliminated.  Still had to figure out how to get the bags into my cart to get them round to the front.

But today, I discovered I could turn a defect into an advantage.  A defect in my backyard walkway, that is.  There's a place by the Norway maple where one walkway slab sits a good inch or more higher than its neighbor.  So if I tipped the cart over on its front end and dragged a bag of dirt into it,

I could brace the wheels against the walkway lippage, like so

and pull it upright with the bag in it.

That done, I could empty the dirt into the cart, ready to take around front.

So good for me, I got seven bags of vegetable garden dirt (primarily a mix of compost and sand) into the new front garden bed.

While I was at it, I rejiggered the brick border at the toe of the slope so it'd come out square,

Swiped a couple of matching bricks from another part of the yard

and mixed the remainder of a carton of Preen into the lower part of the new garden bed.

We'll see if it does any good-- it was pretty old.

If I had nothing better to do I'd also figure out how much the average shovelful of that soil weighs and calculate how much dirt I moved.

But I do have better things to do.  Like plant stuff in the dirt I shifted.  But that's a separate post.

The Sound of Crickets in the Night

You know what happens when you put out a call like this on Facebook?

Help! I have some garden soil I need to get out of my yard and some friends who live seven miles away who need it in theirs. Anybody have a pickup truck I can borrow to load it onto?

Nothing, that's what.  Crickets.  Because you have sensible friends who know that it's not just their pickup you want to borrow, but their shovels as well, and also probably (ok, certainly) their muscles and time to wield them.  And that's assuming that any friends who might have pickup trucks even see your post, given Facebook's arbitrary practice as to whose news appears in whose newsfeed.

I posted that plaintive appeal last night around midnight, after an afternoon of fun in the south vegetable garden bed, the one where the tomatoes are to go.  Spent about an hour and fifteen minutes weeding it (though it seemed a lot longer),

then started sieving the dirt into the garden cart.  I have too much and some friends up above New Brighton need some yard fill, but I didn't want to give it to them complete with roots and weeds.

And when I considered how much dirt is involved (and they can't help me, because the wife is older and the husband has a bad back), I was feeling very discouraged.  Like existential-angst discouraged.  Why don't I have some nice, useful, significant-other type guy attached to me who could help me do this?  Why am I not making enough money so I could hire it done?  How could I ever bag up all this and load it into my car?  I'm pretty strong, but that would take forever!

Thus the idea to appeal for a pickup truck.  Finished filling up the cart with cleaned dirt-- and slow work it was-- parked it over to the side with a yard bag over it in case of rain, and focussed on transplanting the volunteer lettuces.

(If they want to pop up without my having to plant them, the least I can do is give them a safe home for the season.)

But as I say, nobody (at least not so far) has risen up to be a hero and champion in the way of pickup trucks.  Not even after I pleaded for mercy for the tomatoes:

This is kind of urgent-- I can't plant my tomatoes until I remove the mound that's built up in the garden bed.

So this afternoon I took stopgap measures and potted them all up in gallon pots using the soil from the bed where they'll eventually grow.  Sunk them deep in the bigger pots to give them more support and encourage them to develop roots from the leaf nodes.  Should give the "Red Brandywine" a chance at survival, if anything can.

Other than that, dumping yesterday's cartload of dirt in the new planting bed in the front, and digging out a few more trowels full of nutsedge-infested soil from the lawn, I've let things sit today.  Let's give it awhile longer.  Maybe there is somebody out there I know who's dying to haul a few loads of dirt for gas money and free pop.  Maybe my friends in New Brighton know somebody who has a truck.  Can't hurt to ask.

Plugging Away-- and Getting Plugged

Just a little progress report.  All garden related, of course.

My friend brought the tomatoes he promised to give me to church this morning.  One "Italian Goliath,"

one "Red Brandywine,"

one "Brandymaster,"

and one miscellaneous cherry.  Just now they're all leggy seedlings in 8 oz. yogurt cups.  The "Red Brandywine" broke on the way home, which is too bad, since I like me a Brandywine tomato.  But maybe it can be nursed and recover.

They won't get planted for awhile, though:  Over the years the garden bed that I'm rotating the tomatoes to has gotten so mounded up with soil amendments that it's more than a foot higher at the center than at the edges.  And the beds in the round vegetable garden aren't that big.  It needs to be levelled off before anything goes into it.  Oh, yeah, and it needs weeded before that.

Which didn't happen this afternoon or evening.  What did happen is more digging and spading of dirt off the bare places in the front lawn, where the nutsedge is emerging where I dug it out before.  Not as thickly yet as before, but still there.  It's very depressing having to deal with this, such a waste of time and topsoil, too, but what can you do?

Finished cutting up sticks and shifting leaves from the part of the open compost pile I began cleaning off yesterday.

There was a little finished compost at the bottom of it, which I spread on the new planting bed in the front garden.

At least, I think it was compost.  May have just been a mounded bit of topsoil.

Whether or no, after that it was time to make a new compost pile where that bit had been.  Didn't have a lot of "green" material, unless you count the Virginia creeper I pulled off the fence.

Organic parfait

Instead I made layers of grassy sod and leftover unmulched leaves.  Yeah, I know you're not supposed to put dirt in the compost heap. But what else am I supposed to do with all those turves?

A lot of the leaves I was using for that I shook off the branches and sticks that came off the limb that fell down last year.  There weren't too many large ones left on the pile to cut up for kindling today, so I just took the leaf rake and drew the leaf residue off the old pile to use it on the new.

Where things got left, in a hurry

Or I did until some apparent residents of the old pile took exception to this disturbance. First I knew of it was when something  tried to fly up my right nostril.  I sniffed out violently and tried to bat it away, whereupon it stung me twice on my nose right above the lip, on the septum.  Ow!

Quick but careful removal of self into the house-- don't want to be precipitous and trip on the porch stairs-- all the time hoping it wasn't a honeybee, since their stingers remain in and you have to tweeze them out.  Quick, find the baking soda and make a poultice with water.  Dab it on the affected area . . .  know one looks like an idiot, but never mind.  It kept the swelling down where the creature plugged me, and within five minutes the pain was gone too.

Returned to the scene of the incident, though not to do any more raking.  Yellowjackets, it was.  There were still three or four hovering around.  Not going to mess with that pile again until I've consulted the exterminator.

So as much as I wanted to get that pile turned for the first time in three years, it was time to drop it and do something else instead.

Like plant the Berberis thunbergii "Crimson Pygmy" barberry I bought Thursday night from the Outside Lawn & Garden department at work.  I was thinking I needed a reddish specimen in front of the right-hand Alberta spruce . . . but one will do, since my neighbor to the east has four or five or these.

She was out in her front yard, too, while I was planting this.  I told her about the yellowjacket sting.  I mean, I didn't expect to go into anaphylactic shock from it, never have before, but I know some people develop that reaction when they get older.  So in case I suddenly quit breathing and keeled over . . .

I didn't.  I finished getting the red barberry into the ground and went on to transplant a few volunteer Blackeyed Susans into the little strip next to the Siberian iris at the toe of the slope to the sidewalk.

Still so much to do, but the light ran out.  It'll all get done-- eventually-- if I keep plugging away at it.  At this rate I should be able to go back to working on the inside of the house by, oh, late September or so.

Marking Boundaries

Gratuitous existing front border shot

I don't need to tell chronic house renovators how often one can make a reasoned, cerebral decision regarding phasing on a particular project, then suddenly change one's mind for any reason or none at all.

In my case, I'd decided to put off doing much planting in my new front garden bed until the path and seating area could be done. But then I came across a really good sale on plant materials at Wayside Gardens' online store, which included items I've wanted for years.  Should I?  Could I?  Would I be more foolish to spend the money on plants now, or crazier to wait and risk the things I wanted not being available in the future?

I've been leaning towards doing it . . . provided I can come to a decision on the minimum amount of plant material to qualify for the free shipping offers that seem to come and go on the site . . .  But if I'm going to go through with it, I have to know exactly where I can put the shrubs and perennials I might be getting.

Which means defining where the shrubs and perennials won't get put.  So this afternoon out I went with the tape measure, the string, and a handful of millwork off cuts to use for stakes, to lay out the area that will be paved.

Since I'm working with curves I had to use a lot of stakes, and I ran out before I got to the other side of the bed.  Had to use metal plant stakes, and broken-off paint stirrers (which don't stand up too well). It has occurred to me that those pieces of 5/8" painted quarter round I put out for the Large Item Pick-Up three or four weeks ago could have been cut up for layout stakes.  And plant stakes, too, for that matter.  Oh, well.  Inutiles regrets.

Didn't take too long to get the general shape down and marked, a couple hours or so, though I had to tweak the shape of the path a time or two.

I tested the width with my lawn mower, and initally it wasn't wide enough.  No problem, move the stakes and shift the line over.

Once the stakes were in the right position, took the string and marked the line on both sides.

Frankly, I wish there was a longer path in relation to the size of the seating area, but it is what it is.  And how I pave it will make a difference.  Right now, my hope and dream is to do the paving in flagstones.  If I can get them free from some friend or acquaintance's land, all the better.  But that means the boundary line doesn't have to be precise.  And I want the flag at the west end to intrude into the grass past the brick border.

It'll also need a teeny-tiny "retaining wall" at the south edge, since the ground slopes as much as 6" in the 6' or so this area will be wide.  Rough ashlar limestone blocks?  Or nice Beaver County breadloaf-sized roundy rocks?  Whatever's cheaper!

Once the paving area was laid out, I had just enough time before getting changed for work to move the brick border to reflect the bigger radius I scribed and grubbed out yesterday.  This time I broke the line where the path will emerge, so only a couple non-matching bricks were needed.  Nice.

I think the enlarged curve looks a lot better.  What do you think?

Stripping in Public, Again

Last time I had a post with this title, it was the summer of 2008 and it involved standing on my screened-in back porch removing the finish from pieces of wood trim.  It still gets a lot of hits, probably not from people looking to find out about on woodwork refinishing.  The way people's minds work!  Though come to think of it . . . Oh, never mind.

Anyway, this time I was stripping in public again, in broad daylight.  In the front yard.  The dead brown thatch and the unneeded clumps of grass had to come off the new planting bed, and I did what had to be done.  And after three or four days of effort (seems longer!), the area is stripped.  Denuded.  Bare.

Well, all except for the spotted spurge and the sorrel that has opportunistically covered a lot of the ground I deturfed last autumn.   And yes, I'm still digging out the nutsedge, wherever it pops up its head(s).

Monday morning

Project took a good part of the past two days, not including what I stripped off the last weekend in May.  My good pointy-ended steel trowel turns out to work really well for getting leverage under the old grass roots.  Though sometimes it was easier if I stood up and hacked it with the hoe.  I'm not sure if it was easier with the songs that kept going through my head . . .  "The Farmer in the Dell" and "Oats, Peas, Beans, and Barley Grow" as earworms are bad enough.  But when you get the "Ode to Billy Joe" going on your cerebral MP3 player starting the morning of the 3rd of June and can't get it to stop for the next two days . . .  Well, maybe it did help.  You stab and pry the roots of the unwanted grass all the harder, just to compensate for the annoyance.

Early Monday afternoon

Where I left it late Monday afternoon

Found a few interesting things as I stripped thatch and grass.  Not artifacts, no.  No buried gold.  (*Sigh*)  But natural history, like evidence of the tree the previous owners took out of the yard way before I bought the house.

Decaying tree root

And bits of brick that tell me this was to some extent fill dirt (ok, that is an artifact) and not native soil.  And most interesting, a deep tunnel, too deep for me to get my arm to the bottom of it, extending down into the earth from the depression where a mother rabbit had her babies in the front yard two years running.  A warren?  Had no idea it was there.  Dumped dirt and more dirt down it, and I hope it won't sink in.

Rabbit hole.  Yeah, this is a picture of a hole in the ground.

Tuesday-- the last of it before the last of it.

Got the last of the unwanted grass up at around 3:20 this afternoon.

Gone!   (Barring the spurge, of course)

But it wasn't time to go in and wash up. No.  Because I'd been contemplating how the line of the new planting bed looked in the gener neighborhood landscape.  Overall, the shape of it seemed well enough.  But the more I looked at it, the more I saw that the 4' radius quarter-circle that swung off what's left of the straight front border was just too tight and finicking.  So out again came the tape measure, the stakes and the string, and I replaced the initial arc with one with a radius of 6'-6". Pulled the grass off that new sliver, but as for moving the bricks to redefine the border, that has to wait for another time.

Revised radius

Dare I admit that I bought two purple lupine plants last Sunday after church?  And that I have hopes of getting them in in the next couple of days, not to mention the broccoli and the eggplant?

Hopes-- or delusions.  Well, we'll see.

Stripped for action!