Naturally, our first reaction was disappointment, as expressed by my pouting and Mulch Boy's insistence that we might as well quit because obviously we could never grow anything here.
|Insert copious profanity here.|
But we are resilient people. Or stubborn. Perhaps Mulch Boy was inspired by the sight of his wife sitting in the giant hole that was meant for our garden.
|I'm just sitting in this hole. #glamorshot|
In any case, in short order Mr. "It Can't Be Done" was googling the interwebs, and soon he had devised A Cunning Scheme. One trip to the Dee-Pot, a two-by-four, some metal mesh, and a staple gun later and behold! The Garden Sifter was born!
|Mulch Boy demonstrates his invention,.|
So yeah, we're sifting the garden. This is every bit as tedious as you might imagine. Our best estimate is that it will take 900,000 years.
|Do your job.|
It works, though, freakishly well. In the pictures above, we were sifting directly into the garden, and then dumping the gravel onto the porch. There is a lot of gravel on the porch. Meanwhile, we pitch the bigger rocks into a pile by Muriel.
|That's just the big rocks we've sifted, and we've barely |
sifted 10 percent. The porch is covered in pea gravel.
Muriel can barely contain her excitement.
And so there we are. If/when we ever DO finish this task, we are going to have the best by-golly garden patch that ever was. We may be too arthritic by that time to actually plant anything, but at least we'll have the pride that goes with a job well done. Or whatever.