I dirtied my hands this past weekend, and it felt good. Saturday and Sunday were spent digging in the yard, cutting back dead branches from trees & shrubs, and generally wasting time in an effort to avoid any indoor projects that may require actual skill or thought.
Saturday started off great as I headed out with my radio. I had to turn on the switch for outside power to my pond to listen to my radio, so I got the sounds of running water along with my music, as if I were listening to a concert alongside a babbling brook. I know that my pond doesn’t sound very natural if I have to turn on the power for it. But what if I told you that my pond’s pump is powered by a small wind turbine and solar panel? Pretty cool, right? Well, it’s not. The pump just plugs into a power outlet outside. But the end result still was the sound of running water and some good music, until this happened …
No, my neighbor didn’t propel himself around the neighborhood with his leaf blower. That only happens in Florida, because, well, Floridians. But he did don his jetpack and blow every speck of debris off his lawn while drowning out my music and water sounds.
Fortunately, that didn’t last too long as I puttered and pondered the nature of our very existence.
EDITOR’S WARNING: This idiot is about to wax philosophical. The last Mite Be Funny cartoon was about René Descartes, Cartesian dualism, and of course, dead skin flakes. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Stop reading now. Or, click on through to continue reading at your own risk.
EDITOR’S WARNING, PART 2: Bad decision, but read on.
As I dug in the dirt, I was reminded of this song from Fleetwood Mac in their pre-Buckingham/Nicks days. Danny Kirwan wrote it, adapting a poem from Rupert Brooke for lyrics. Impreccable vocals provided by Christine McVie with help from Bob Welch. I loved that Mac line-up.
I thought it was so cool when that somewhat obscure Mac song played on the radio while I was digging in the garden, but it turns out that only happened in my daydream. Anyway, it reminds me that dust is from whence we came and our ultimate destination. So, as we wander down life’s road, we may as well accomplish something that we like to do while stumbling about.
EDITOR’S WARNING, PART 3: Well, that wasn’t so bad. He must be back on his meds. Read on.
After clearing away weeds, I needed mulch. I hit upon the idea of making my own mulch using a sledgehammer and some soft, rotting tree trunk segments behind my shed. It’s too early in the season for us to get free mulch from the county, and it’s not like I am willing to pay for decomposing wood. Sounds to me like a good spot to segue to a Mulch Ado About Nothing cartoon.
EDITOR’S WARNING, PART 4: Uh-oh.
EDITOR’S WARNING, PART 5: So much for being back on his meds.
The sledgehammer mulching plan worked well, and the homemade mulch looks very nice. I thought it was so neat when “Sledgehammer” by Peter Gabriel came on the radio while I was making mulch, but that also didn’t happen except in my head. However, it is an outstanding music video worth another look …
I’m always amazed when I see him now and how he’s aged, but he has a good perspective on it.
I love him for saying that and for this song that also did not play while I was digging in the dirt.
As I explored more remote areas of the garden, I did come across these beauties at the base of a tree trunk …
Fun guy finds fungi. I have to assume they are truffles and my family will love them when I mix them in with the pasta sauce.
It wasn’t all good news though. I’m afraid my pair of yard work shoes may not make it through the summer, and my wife seems to have no interest in mending them.
Well, the yard work may not be good for the sole, but it was definitely good for the soul.
EDITOR’S WARNING, FINAL: It’s never too late to unfollow Jim. But if you’re the type of person that likes watching train wrecks, then don’t forget to read Jim’s book.
Available from Amazon. Click HERE.
Jim Flanigan Looks at the World 