Sunday was mulch day. Well, Saturday was mulch day too. At the end of mulch day, it’s the butt muscles that hurt! Yowza — all that bending and stretching.

There are many different techniques for mulching, and I used them all. There’s the grab-as-much-as-you-can-and-spread-by-hand method. There’s the “parmesan cheese” method. This is where you hold the mulch above the ground (by hand, or from a pitchfork) and you shake-a-shake-a-shake, letting it sift down and spread lightly over the ground. There’s the-take-a-pitchforkful-and-lob-it-over-there; then, spread method. There’s the dump-to-whole bag out, and spread. Then, one of my favorites, pick up the ¾ empty bag and shake it out onto the ground (this is a variation on the parmesan cheese technique). When you are really tired, and you can’t reach, and you are too lazy or sore to get up and move, there is the grab, aim, and toss method, where you hope you hit the right spot.

The mulching task came after a lot of Saturday weeding and cleaning up. It was 77 degrees. It was the end of the day, and the family and I were tired. And hot. One after another, the family retired to the house, one from heat exhaustion, one to watch a hockey game and one cause, damn, we’ve been out here long enough, Mom. Obsessor that I am, I ignored each rational thought I had for calling it a day, including: I’m tired. We can do the rest of this tomorrow. It is way too hot and I should not be in the evening sun. Everyone else has gone in. The family will be waiting for me, because they want to watch a movie together. None of these was enough to make me call it quits. What finally did? The butt muscles. At some point, I said to myself, Hey, do you really think you can bend down one more time? And myself said, Why, no. Ow. As a matter of fact, ow, I think if I bend down right now, I will not be able to get back up. Ow. I am done. That was Saturday.

Sunday came, and with it another opportunity to mulch. It became even more important, because, although yesterday was 77 degrees, today would be 54, and Monday promised below freezing temperatures! Perhaps a toasty layer of mulch will help avoid catastrophe.

While I was at church, Gil had gone out and bought more mulch from the local hardware store. “I can help you, but I can only give you an hour, because the game is on in an hour.” So, I went and changed clothes while he got started.

We’re side by side now. He points to a tight clump of perennial Veronica sprouts and says, “Aren’t you going to pull that?” NO! Good lord. That’s not a weed! “Oh. Well, it looks like it to me. I would have pulled it.” I give him an incredulous look. “I guess I’ll stop pulling weeds,” he says.

I’ll bet you’ve already pulled some of my flowers. Sure enough. We were mulching the outer edge of the garden, which is where my bachelor buttons like to grow. Not in the middle, but out there on the edges, by themselves– all volunteers. I love bachelor buttons, not least because they are electric blue. So I am always excited to see them, no matter where they decide to grow. Who am I to tell my bachelors where to sow their seed? But I could see how the errant sprouts could look like weeds to my spouse. I look in the weed pile, and sure enough — bachelor buttons.

You are not to pull any weeds you don’t know the names of, I tell him. Like, “dandelions,” for instance. That is clearly a weed. Otherwise, let it grow.

I think about the garden of my heart, my life.  Seeds blow in from relationships with others. Sometimes the Gardener will plant something there which we have never seen before. I think it is good advice to be careful about what I pull out, especially if don't really know what it is.  It may be something special that I have to get to know, like electric blue bachelor buttons.


Copyright (c) 2008