Today is shaping up to be one of those perfect days: a pleasing blend of work and fun. I had intended to post about our Foodie Field Trips, but that will have to wait until tomorrow . We found time midday to perform a much-needed yard chore: clearing sod for more garden space.
In the past — at this house and the house in Canby — I’ve dug up sod by hand. I’ve used my shovel, wheelbarrow, and back to clear space for flower beds, berry patches, and vegetable gardens. Kris and I have been itching to expand our current vegetable garden, and to add an herb garden, and the sod-removal for these spots has been daunting. “We should rent a sod cutter,” she keeps telling me, but I pooh-pooh the idea. Why rent when I can do it on my own?
Well, when Mike and Rhonda expressed interest in splitting a four-hour rental with us, the idea became more appealing. And when we realized that it was a gorgeous afternoon, and that tomorrow (our planned sod-cutting day) is supposed to be wet and windy, we shifted into high gear. The four of us tackled both yards, ripping up sod like pros.
Mike wrestles with the sod-cutter
It’s amazing how quickly the work goes with four people on the job. We had our garden space cleared out in forty-five minutes.
When we were finished, we had cleared a space seven feet by thirty-five feet, 250 square feet of new garden, all of it already in full sun for most of the day.
Up on craigslist tomorrow…
We’d also cut a smallish (80 square feet?) angled patch for the herbs.
I can’t wait for our herb garden; we’ve been two years without one
At Mike and Rhonda’s house, we took up most of their back yard, as well as the parking strip in front of their house. It’ll be great for Rhonda to have some room to garden. For her, the worst part of their recent move was sacrificing her lavish established vegetable and flower gardens.
It was great for us to squeeze in some much-needed yardwork between delicious food excursions (about which more tomorrow or Monday).
On the way to Mike and Rhonda’s, the pickup truck in front of us lost part of its load: a long narrow box fell into the road. I had about two seconds to decide what to do. I couldn’t veer to the left (oncoming traffic), and I couldn’t veer to the right (parked vehicles). I could have tried to slam on my brakes, but I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to stop in time or that the car behind me would have trouble. I chose to run over the box, and pull to the shoulder. The box scraped along under the car.
I hopped out of the car, but the car behind me — an upscale sedan driven by a posh young woman — was cranky with my open door and honked. I could read her lips: “Fucking asshole.”
I leaned over and said “Relax!” as she drove by. To my delight, the back windows were down.
The driver of the pickup had run to the box, which contained a brand new weed-whacker. “You think it’s okay?” I asked.
The young man punched the air. “It’s shit now,” he said, and for a moment I thought he was angry that I’d run over it. (I realized after a few seconds that he was just mad at the situation.)
“What an adventure,” Kris said as I got back in the car. We drove to Mike and Rhonda’s for more sod-cutting fun.