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desperanceIs there a service that will sharpen spades?
There seems to be a seam of clay running through my garden: such that half the new bed was really heavy and dense and hard to dig, and the other half is lighter. The concomitance to this is that the turf - one can hardly call it "lawn", so rank it is with some kind of stoloniferous creeper-grass - is much thicker and the roots go deeper, and it's actually really hard to get the spade through into the soil. I feel such a wimp, as I stand there grunting and levering and straining with the blade a bare half-inch into the sod...
Also, I have uncovered Archaeology! There's an old concrete pillar or some such, just below the surface. I have dug all around it, and will try to remember to plant nothing above that needs any depth at all.
And now I just want to spend my days rummaging through seed-catalogues and breaking up clods and raking out creeper-grass and and and...
(It's a gorgeous day out there, actively warm for the first time in a while - and that's not just because I've been working.)
Lunch now, though. And when we come home, well, I s'pose I ought to do something writerly. Rather than just cursing my bank and getting scared and running out into the garden again to finish the digging (which is, let's face it, probably just what I will do).
There seems to be a seam of clay running through my garden: such that half the new bed was really heavy and dense and hard to dig, and the other half is lighter. The concomitance to this is that the turf - one can hardly call it "lawn", so rank it is with some kind of stoloniferous creeper-grass - is much thicker and the roots go deeper, and it's actually really hard to get the spade through into the soil. I feel such a wimp, as I stand there grunting and levering and straining with the blade a bare half-inch into the sod...
Also, I have uncovered Archaeology! There's an old concrete pillar or some such, just below the surface. I have dug all around it, and will try to remember to plant nothing above that needs any depth at all.
And now I just want to spend my days rummaging through seed-catalogues and breaking up clods and raking out creeper-grass and and and...
(It's a gorgeous day out there, actively warm for the first time in a while - and that's not just because I've been working.)
Lunch now, though. And when we come home, well, I s'pose I ought to do something writerly. Rather than just cursing my bank and getting scared and running out into the garden again to finish the digging (which is, let's face it, probably just what I will do).