Okay, so last Tuesday I looked out my kitchen window at 3 Green Street again and thought, damn, that side patch by the driveway looks like crap. Just dirt and a couple sad weeds. Figured it’s past time I actually did something about it instead of just complaining to my cat.
Digging In
First thing Wednesday morning, I grabbed that rusty shovel from my shed – yeah, the one with duct tape on the handle. Started hacking at the dirt. Found like fifty billion rocks under the surface, some big as my fist. Sweat dripping into my eyes after ten minutes. Nearly whacked my own foot twice trying to pry one out.
Running Around
Took a quick drive to the garden place downtown. Grabbed bags of cheap topsoil and compost since my wallet ain’t thick. Forgot my gloves in the car, so I carried everything barehanded and got dirt under my nails. Felt dumb. Back home, dumped all that dark, crumbly stuff onto the patch and shoved it around with the shovel like frosting on a sad cake.
Planting Mishaps
Had these marigold seedlings sitting on my porch for a week. Tiny yellow guys. Made rows of little holes with my finger, popped ’em in. Forgot to water ’em right away. Realized when they started looking drunk and flopping over around lunchtime. Panic-watered them while muttering “live, dammit, live!” like a crazy person. Covered everything with mulch chips, sneezed three times from the dust.
Standing Back
Finished up just before sunset. Hands filthy, back aching. Stared at those wobbly little plants surrounded by fresh dark dirt. Looks pretty ragged right now. Zero guarantee those marigolds won’t croak by next week. Neighbor walked by, gave me a thumbs up. Felt weirdly proud even though it’s basically just dirt and hope right now. The cat sniffed it and walked away unimpressed. Gotta check it daily now.