The pond is full of algae. It's been a growing problem since we left the water running during the summer for the tadpoles to have a fighting chance to realize their frog-ness and so the birds have water in the dry summer. We've not had enough really cold weather to put ice on the water this year, which I suspect may be part of the problem. So it looks like I'm going to be putting on my old waders and raking out the slime and drowning some barley straw to prevent further growth.
The weather is cooperating this week with a minimum amount of precipitation so I thought I'd fulfill my side of the bargain with a token gesture of organizing the brush/burn pile. Not as easily said as done.
Late last fall we had a crew come in to take out some trees and shrubs, and clean up the much-neglected flower beds. The larger wood was bucked and is still waiting for me to come around with the truck to load it up. The smaller branches and plants went onto the burn pile. The flower beds were full of dead weeds and leaf mulch. The crew might have been a tad bit overzealous in their manicure, for when they were finished, everything was gone down to the dirt. That in itself isn't so bad because we planned on blowing in a couple inches of compost come spring; yet, what was an issue was all of that humus went onto the burn pile as well.
Observant readers with good memories might remember that late autumn was not a good time for me. It took everything I had just to go out to speak with the supervisor, and at the end of the day walk the dog and have a look around. I never did make it out to the pile on those days, so I had no idea until it was too late. Everything went on the burn pile.
I picked out as much humus as I could today with the front end loader. The rest I tried to strategically spread throughout the wood. No, it wont burn, but perhaps the heat will sterilize it so weeds don't start coming up in it. What I could retrieve went onto an old compost pile. I could now use about forty yards of urine and manure-soaked straw to get that pile cooking. I'll put a good spin on it and consider it our ceremonial last compost pile before pulling up stakes. Or one more overgrown pile of dirt for which I'll have to figure out something else.
Looking back, knowing that I couldn't be more hands on in the clean-up, I might have been a little more precise with my instructions of where to put what. On the other hand, a little common sense or, if necessary, thinking things through on their end and asking for clarification would not have been unreasonable either. As it now stands, there is still the potential that we will have exchanged one mess for another. And this time with a workforce of one with a tractor.
When it comes right down to it, miscommunication is pretty much a given. The simplest exchange between two people gets shunted through a myriad of unseen filters, and some of the finest ones go unrecognized within the recipients of the information themselves. It's probably happened twelve times for all of us in this seemingly straightforward post, and this with the benefit of editing!
The above paragraph pretty much sums up my recent mantra. Yes, those waters, dear friends. While it might first seem to be rather fatalistic, I see latitude and freedom, but not without responsibility, and always with a purpose; although "purposeful" may be more appropriate, for as it goes with listening, all manner of motivations may too escape me at the time. Mistakes will be made. So be it.
"At what price?" you might ask. If I thought about that, I would do/say/write/make nothing.
yet still
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