Archaeology

I have dug up the following items during my backyard work over the last week:

One (1) 12 oz. Budweiser beer can with a "Tab Top" pull tab opening promoted on the bottom of the can. Badly degraded. Age: from my web research, this can probably dates from the late 1960s. Pull tabs were outlawed in the mid-1970s to reduce pollution and choking.

One (1) red plastic circus train car, approx. 4" long with yellow wheels and steel axles. Passengers include an elephant, a clown, and a weird fish-lipped horse-giraffe thing. Excellent condition, except for the axles, which show considerable rust. Age: unknown.

One (1) length silver plastic barbed wire fence, 4.75" long. Four posts, three strands of wire. Excellent condition. Age: unknown.

One (1) red and yellow marble.

One (1) stainless steel tablespoon. Too dirty to use.

One (1) stainless steel teaspoon. Too dirty to use.

Million Dollar Rain

I must have some Lucky Farmer in my blood still. Yesterday I planted grass. Today it has been raining steadily. My mom, who grew up on a farm near Menlo, Kansas, once told me that a well-timed all-day soaker like this was called a "million dollar rain" because all by itself it could turn a wheat crop that was going to make 30 bushels an acre into one that was going to make 40 bushels. County-wide, an improvement like that could certainly add up to millions of dollars.

I did a quick Google search on "million dollar rain" and "wheat" and sure enough, the farmers in Michigan had one earlier this summer:

The lunch regulars came into the Judge's Bench in Winn soaked, but smiling.

A swath stretching from Grand Rapids to northeast of Mt. Pleasant through Winn was drenched with more than 2 inches of rain Monday, with some areas reporting more than 3 inches.

"It was really needed bad," said Pat Judge, owner of the popular restaurant and tavern. "This is probably a million-dollar rain."

-- "Rains bring quick relief," Morning Sun (Mt. Pleasant, MI), June 13, 2005.

Of course, for the little patch of grass in our back yard we're not talking millions of dollars. At best, this is a Sixty-two Dollar Rain. But I'll take it.

Johnny Grassseed

Not as well-known as that Appleseed fellow. I wonder why? We take grass for granted, one. And then there's the pesky issue of how to spell J.G.'s name. Grass-seed, Grassseed. Three s's in a row? Easier to just let him fade into oblivion.

On Tuesday July 5 I forked, peat-mossed, manured, seeded, fertilized, and watered the shady little patch of ground in our back yard in the hopes that some grass would grow there in two to four weeks.

Listened to my new favorite radio talk show host, Ed Schultz, throughout my horticultural activities. He broadcasts out of Fargo, North Dakota and his show is what political talk radio ought to sound like.

A Man, A Plan, A Canal, Aleve

For the past two days I have been doing my best Frederick Law Olmsted impression in our postage-stamp sized, shady backyard. On Saturday: created several multi-layered planting areas using the rocks that tumble up from the earth like potatoes whenever I rake the ground. Into these beds went ground cover in three varieties: ivy, pachysandra, and euonymus. On Sunday: dug a drainage canal along the back wall and down to the sidewalk on the west side of the house, then filled it with more rocks for that mountain stream look.

New England agriculture revolves around the disposal of rocks.

Through it all, I have to say that the generic version of Aleve that I have been taking has really helped with the shoulder tendinitis.

And darned if it isn't all pretty rewarding. Why, I don't know. Last time I did anything out there was May of 2000. If that ground cover is going to make it I will have to pay closer attention this time. Certainly as a youth, yard work meant mowing a giant backyard while my dad "supervised," i.e. sat on the swingset and drank Coors, and it was not the highlight of my week. Now I would give anything to have a big yard to mow.

Multi-layered planting beds

Likewise, the various housekeeping tasks I have undertaken lately have also been remarkably drudgery-free. Again, why? Is it the fact that these tasks are chosen by me freely, and not imposed from without, by society's expectations or the demands of a spouse? Or the fact that I can quit anytime during the day and take a bike ride or check email or write or go explore a new beach? Or the knowledge that I can leave this life pretty much any time I want and go back into an non-home workplace? Or maybe it's that I'm not responsible for anyone else, i.e. kids or an elderly relative.

Growing up in the 1970s and 1980s, homemaking as an occupation got such a bad rap in the media and in popular culture that I thought nobody in their right mind would ever want to do it. But so far I find that it agrees with me.

Drainage canal