(Tuesday: head out to a nearby farm to help a friend vaccinate her horses and haul back a load of horse manure for the garden)
Manage to sleep until 7:00 AM, in spite of the best efforts of two cats. Jumping out of bed with eagerness is not possible when a large load of horse poop is waiting.
7:30: suck down coffee while wondering if it wouldn't be best to not be fully awake
8:30: notice it's supposed to rain later. Not sure what that will do to a truckload of horse manure, but bet it won't be pleasant.
8:31: Sigh heavily, get dressed, grab the shovel and wheelbarrow.
8:35: Feel very "empowered" to be doing the physical labor while my husband works to support us
8:40: Secretly hope that the neighbors who keep letting their dogs out to poop on everyone else's lawn without cleaning up after them let their dogs out TODAY, thinking that having a nice smelly dog might be adequate repayment
8:45: Wonder why, if everyone is so "into" organic gardening, we are the only ones who ever seem to shovel manure?
8:50: Reflect that some of our friends swear that horse manure really doesn't stink
8:55: Reflect that these friends obviously haven't spent much time with an entire load of the stuff
9:00: Start to tire, but remember that Andy unloaded the previous loads of manure and compost by himself. Decide to continue
9:05: Arms starting to hurt
9:10: Chastise oneself for not going to the gym more often and arms being a bit out of shape
9:15: Reflect that there probably isn't an exercise to prepare one's arms for shoveling except more shoveling
9:20: Notice it's looking a bit more like rain. Need to work faster
9:25: Decide friends who think horse manure doesn't stink are out of their cotton-pickin' minds
9:30: Arms really hurting now
9:35: Seriously regret asking the fellow loading the manure to pack it down so it wouldn't blow out.
9:40: Start to wonder how much would look like a "good effort" before leaving the rest for Andy
9:45: Remember that one is a "liberated woman" and "man's equal" and decide to keep shoveling--at least until it rains
9:50: Where the hell is the promised rain?
10:00: Decide the beds closest to the truck could really use more manure
10:05: Decide the lawn closest to the truck also didn't get it's fair share of manure
10:10: Discover a technique of "flinging" manure that spreads it pretty evenly across the lawn
10:15: Discover the "flinging" technique, if done from the wrong spot, flings manure onto the hot tub. Bless the hot tub cover and make mental note to sweep the patio around the hot tub before using it
10:20: Arms have just about lost all feeling now.
10:25: Decide that the women's movement probably never had shoveling manure in mind anyway.
10:30: Where is that damn rain?
10:35: Decide that there's a reason people buy their food instead of growing it.
10:40: Wonder if the "organic" movement would truly accept horse manure as organic, or would one have to check what the horses have actually eaten to produce the manure to label it as "organic?"
10:41: Can't believe one can have philosophical horse poop thoughts
10:45: Decide that friends who don't think horse poop stinks are completely deranged and should not be trusted
10:50: Where the *#&$% is the rain??????????
10:55: Arms have lost all feeling, 90% of the manure is unloaded, and the remaining amount is too far in the bed to reach. Decide it's time to "share" the experience with my taller spouse.
11:00: Sprint to the house and take a 30-minute shower to make sure no trace of the horse poop has survived. Loofah until 3 pounds of skin have been shed.
11:35: Wonder if it's too early for pajamas.........
2 comments:
Confession time: I am one of those people who think horse manure smells go-o-o-od! Cow manure comes in second place. Veal barns are what make me gag.
I’m not all that fond of manure smells – doesn’t matter from where… but here’s one that will make you pause… I can’t stand the smell of molasses, because it makes me think of goopy runny oozy cow poop. I actually gag.
At one point we fed the cows a supplement that was liquid. It’s primary ingredient was – you guessed it – molasses. The cows loved it. We fed it in these big square metal containers next to the bridge, just on the side of the road, so a high concentration of cows in one area. One spring (calving season) when all the cows were there and it was really rainy, there was a foot of mud and cow poop that you had to drive through every day going to and from school. It would actually fold back into the tire track after you passed, and from then on the smell of molasses conjures the smell of cow poop.
My Dad tries to tell me that it smells like money to him, but I think his nose is just messed up.
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