For exactly one year and eight days now, we have lived behind a nasty patch of old pine needles and accumulated flotsam like cigarette butts and bits of food wrapper. It has been ugly. It has been imposed upon, as the needle tree has its own entire patch on which to scatter its dead hairs; it does not need to blow them all over into other uninvolved patches of dirt. Furthermore it has been useless, except, as aforementioned, as an unnecessary additional trash storage annex, which was woefully undersized and under organized anyhow. But mostly it has been ugly.


Yesterday morning I got up at what my body considered to be eight thirty, and I raked all of the crap out of this patch of dirt for literally hours and pulled all the weeds and their horrible clever old roots out of it and eventually after literally hours it turned into beautiful soft warm dirt. Also I have callouses.

so much raking

And the dirt is jammed so far under my fingernails that at all times and regardless of grooming implements my fingertips faintly reek of fertilizer. But hey! Potting soil’s not going to fling itself onto the ground in uniform poofiness.

liso y suave

And now there is salad planted in it! This previous king of the eyesores is now home to a bunch of lettuce and spinach, and hopefully there is some room left in there for kale, because ideally I want to just walk out my front door and pick a salad bar.



I am