The Great Compost Arrival

My beautiful top soil and mushroom compost mix arrived at 4:00 pm, and my mouth could not smile any wider! The compost smelled earthy and rich, and was speckled with real mushrooms. I actually salivated for my plants while I shoveled its deliciousness. I worked until dark, then begrudgingly gave up and came inside.

I awoke the next morning, stiff and sore but ready to go. I shoveled all day until my wheelbarrow seemed to be weaving with my weariness. The clouds were increasing and it was sprinkling a bit, so I came inside at a decent hour. The next day was Sunday and after church it was raining so hard, I decided to take a short nap and rest my weary body, hoping for a power surge and dry weather when I woke. I slept for three full hours, and the rain poured on throughout the day. I decided to finish the next day, rain or shine.

Monday arrived and my remaining compost was sprawling out like an ugly brown monster with its fingers greedily grasping more and more of my driveway. I suited up in my rain gear and headed out to do battle. The compost in my wheelbarrow was now, wet sloppy mud, bubbling with mirth at my tenacity. I slung wet aimless shovels of it in the direction of my flowerbeds and it met the earth with slaps and spatters, looking like a barnyard neglected in the rain. The rain and wind drummed on through out the day, stopping only to change venues into hail or sleet. My rubber boots split at the seams and my socks slipped down them, wet and covered in mud.*

My flowerbeds now looked like a heard of elephants had backed up and unloaded a month’s supply of manure. I dumped my last load of compost and every ounce of me wanted to go stand in a hot shower and cry exhaustively (just a little). However, it was now time to pressure-wash my driveway and sidewalk, or my neighborhood with its all its covenants, would probably haul me off to dirty driveway jail. I pressure-washed in the rain until dusk, my hands howling in protest.

I watched the rain percolate the yummy nutrients of my compost day after day, after day. Finally, after over a month of waiting, the clouds parted and the sun warmed and dried the flowerbeds, signalling me to turn over the compost and mix it with the clay that lurked below. It was hard work breaking through the clay and mixing it with the top-soil/compost blend, and I know this will have to be done each year for years to come, to create an on-going rich soil. However, I'm thinking that maybe I should have it dumped when the earth is still frozen, so at least it resembles soil when I sling it on my plants.

Spring days have followed, and my little piece of earth is getting greener and fuller each day. “The heavens praise your wonders O Lord” as do I.

*This feeling reminded me of when I was a little girl and wore anklets with my well-worn and holey go-go boots. My anklets always slid down uncomfortable to the middle of my foot.