Really Digging It

The plumerias are back. In fact, Chris from Fort Worth who saw this blog helped us unload them … he just popped by and we had a beer. Lori had just driven back from Austin with a load of ten; I think we gave away another ten but kept the good ones. So, now they go in the ground, which is basically dirty sand. Hey, we are on a sand-spit in the ocean, right? Daughter Samantha drove down last night with her two pit bulls (sweetest things, they are), and will help. So off they go to Wally World for some things for her and some mulch for the plumerias. And maybe some stakes in case the wind gets up.

OK, I played the girls too hard in the surf today, 3-4 foot waves on the second bar (wish I had my new Blaster 45” body board). They well, fell asleep for a big nap about 5:00. Tomorrow for planting, then. There’s a law you can’t mulch after 5:00, right?

In the meantime I dug four holes in the ground for the largest plumerias. It was hot and heavy going, with not much progress. The soil was hard as concrete. Here I come all the way from Limestone City and gave away my six-foot digging bar and I wished it back sorely. I darn near passed out making four starter holes about 5-8 inches deep. “What the f@&$#!,” says I to myself, “this was supposed to be pure sand.” I was dripping with sweat.

OK, there was some heavy clay in there, like bay silt or Rio Grand Mud. So I got smart and watered each hole with the hose, all the way to the top and then more again. Time for a relaxer brewsky and a cool-down. So after the break I go back out there with my sharp-shooter shovel, on the attack. “Baby I’m a-comin’ home” I yell as I plunge the shovel … almost halfway up the handle. I’m trying to extract said shovel out of the hole, which is now buried in like gluey quick-mud, when the neighbor who is a house builder drives down the street.

What else to do but lean on the shovel just like a state highway worker? Yup, I buried this shovel on purpose, dude! He gave me a friendly wave and looked as if to say “Wow, nice shovel plant you got there, son.” Using the other shovel to get the first one out of the hole I quickly saved face and scooped the poopy mud out of the holes in no time at all.

It turns out it hasn’t rained here since May. I can see why the landscape looks a little fried. And nope, my son can keep that darned digging bar!