Hauling Muck

I was up late and woke a few times this morning before I got up to check out my garden. The plants are all doing well and I put some of the zucchini out in the first garden bed. The potatoes haven’t come up yet, which is strange since some of them were already sprouted, but the asparagus is doing well.

The first task was going to my car and getting my asparagus that was still in the sack so I can plant it as quickly as possible. While I was there, I heard Bashful using his chainsaw so I went to chat with him. He suggests that I might want to use his bridge as mine, since I haven’t put mine in yet. I told him about my poplar log but he didn’t seem to think that made any difference. He was prepping wood for the winter and while we talked the blackflies became worse and worse so I cut the conversation early and put my root ball of asparagus in my old pack and brought it into the woods. Here I planted it, and then hid from the bugs while I thought about my next task. While inside, I hooked up my little laptop and found it works great, so maybe I will use it to transcribe my writing on this keyboard and then only carry a USB stick out of here every week. More high tech all the time.

My next task was going back to the car, although this time with pants and boots instead of shorts and sandals as I had earlier, and work on the pallets I’d brought with me. I tore them apart and then brought the small one back with me as well as a harness of ten pieces of tongue and groove cedar. I hauled some muck today too, although I am rapidly losing enthusiasm for that project. I should put a big rush on that though, so I can get the garden all in and then just fight slugs.

I finally turned back to my story set in Russia and made good progress on it tonight. I’m not sure how long it will be but so far it is one of my many adoption stories. It is one in the morning now, so I’ve let the writing go for the night, but I really wish I knew how the mosquitoes were getting in here.

About Barry Pomeroy

I had an English teacher in high school many years ago who talked about writing as something that people do, rather than something that died with Shakespeare. I began writing soon after, maudlin poetry followed by short prose pieces, but finally, after years of academic training, I learned something about the magic of the manipulated word.
This entry was posted in The Land, Writing and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.