I bought half a yard of that dirt and hauled it in a truck. Then I shoveled it. Then I wheel barrowed it. Then I dumped it. Then I spread it with a rake none the less. Although it did lend an aesthetic improvement to how our plot looked, the amount was still not enough to target some of the concern areas we have with our plot, clay. Because of this long sustained drought we have been suffering in the Texas Hill Country area, the soil's baked, looser sandier soil falls through the fissured surface leaving only a shiny thick muck of slated clay.
No one has time to deal with those clods just getting in the way of your ho. Each strike of the ho met with a tense vibration running the course of the wooden handle up your arms and through your bones.
Deborah and I were getting bored, no plants in the garden yet, and we knew we needed a load of compost which we would get another day- so it was time for a diversion. Deborah knew of a place off Lime Kiln Road where wild tobacco grew. She said it would be perfect for picking since these tobacco leaves dried a nice golden brown on the stalk. I was up for a little jaunt outside San Marcos. Before we left I dumped my coffee ground and citrus rind compost in the middle of the plot and placed a sign that I would hope accurately express my garden's sentiments.
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