Beat your swords into ploughshares

"Where our hearts truly lie is in peace and quiet and good tilled earth.

For all Hobbits share a love of things that grow."

As many of you may know, we are in the midst of a very warm winter and a drought here in Texas. (It was 80 degrees one day earlier in January.) So I decided Saturday to take advantage of the beautiful weather to start getting the garden ready for the many hopeful plans I have for it this year. (We shall see what comes of them.)

So I brought out our little tiller, expended much effort trying to make it start, (made my shoulders very sore with pulling on the cord), got Papa's advice on which was the proper setting to put it in, (choke, and all that-- I really know nothing about motors), made sure that it was actually turned on, tried a few more times, and finally it sputtered to life for me.

But then, I hadn't reckoned on how hard the ground was-- So, after consultation with Mama, I sprayed the area with the garden hose. (see below)
(By the way, don’t be fooled by the green grass– there isn’t any anywhere other than under the spigot.)

The water helped greatly. But still, the machine . . . you wouldn’t think that something so small and innocent looking as that tiller could be such a trouble. But I suppose it was more the ground’s fault. What is it that Derek says? ". . . a broken back from the ground fighting back at me . . ." It really is the curse of mankind. Well anyway, the end result, on that Saturday, was that I got half of the garden tilled before I had to go in to help get ready for company. I woke up the next morning hardly able to move, my hands and arms were so sore.

But then came the rain. It was absolutely lovely– it rained all day Sunday; steady rain, and very wet. Just what we needed. (I wished all day that I was in Lubbock so that I could go walk around the Tech campus in it with my flip-flops and my red coat on . . .)

So on Tuesday, when I had gotten some more gasoline-and-oil (since the other gas can, with a broken spout, no less, had been left out in the rain and therefore ruined) I put my overalls back on and went to work again. And oh, the rain made such a difference! I was so much more at peace with my piece of machinery– I felt like I was its master, instead of it mastering me. But I suppose it was the ground that changed, not me.

And here, my friends, is the good tilled earth that resulted– this is at the end of Saturday– now the plot is three-fourths done. There’s something poetic about earth, don’t you think? Course you have to see it in person, perhaps even till it in person, to appreciate it fully. But dirt is truly amazing in some way. So is gasoline, by the way. They complained all evening that I was smelling up the house with it, (maybe I did get a little on me when I spilled it that one time– I told you I don’t know anything about motors, or new-fangled gas cans, for that matter), but it’s and honest smell, really, and I’ve always liked it.

At any rate, I’ll probably finish it up tomorrow, should it prove such another fine day, and then on to other work. I hope, someday, to post pictures of the fruits of my labor, but that is as it may be.