Covered in Literal Crap

My first visit to Jim’s house I learned all about the history of the house – how it had been in the family for over 60 years and all the changes it had undergone. Casually thrown in there was the possibility of an unannounced “drop-by” from his parents. While not the biggest of obstacles I’m not going to lie, it did worry me a bit. I had already envisioned the meeting of the parents and none of the visions included anything unannounced. The thought, though, had slipped my mind the weekend Jim decided to involve me in the plans he had for his garden.

I’m not saying one of the main reasons Jim continued to date me was my V.I.P access to fresh manure but I’m sure it’s somewhere up there on the list. I should have realized it wasn’t my remarkable conversational abilities that had him hooked when I found a way to work manure into our conversation. My knowledge of garden related things extended to the fact that people use livestock manure on their gardens and my parents garden always smelled like coffee because they used coffee grounds on their gardens, for a very long time I thought it was to make it smell good.

Quotes from the Farmer:

“The first time Jenny took me to the farm to show me the horses that she loves to ride, I did notice the large piles of aged manure being stored behind the barn. In my plans to transform a depleted suburban lawn into rich organic gardens, there is the need for lots of soil building, lots of organic matter, and lots more life for the soil. Aged manure is one of the best ways to infuse organic matter and life into soil. Organic matter is the solution to almost all soil deficiencies. Organic matter aerates the soil to improve drainage, it raises the nitrogen content to provide better plant growth, and it supports moisture retention by providing better water storage.”

So come April 26th we prepared to relocate (hopefully) a large amount of manure from Green Acres farm in Enfield, about 20 minutes away from Jim’s. Naturally, we both have fantastic cars for such a project: He (at the time) a blue Prius and me, a purple Honda Fit. Our plan to remedy our teeny tiny car situation was to fill 12 plastic totes (yes, plastic) and load them in our cars and be on our merry ways. At just barely 4’11’’ and 5’3’’ with combined not a whole lot of brute muscle we are absolutely the best people for such a job.

It’s called a Honda Fit for a reason!

Six totes in the back of my car (two of them cracked) and I was bored and tired so I took a break and jumped on a horse while Jim kept working to load his car. Horse break over I helped him load the last couple of totes in the back of his car, watched while he bottomed out trying to get down the dirt road, giggled hysterically at the disappearing tops of my back tires and sluggishly pulled out in my new low riding car for the journey home. We spent a surprisingly short time dumping the 12 totes of manure in a nice, neat pile that measured about three feet wide and … to our knees.

For all the sweat and toil the pile was quite a sorry sight, but it was a start. As we revealed in our success, an unannounced “drop-by” occurred. I had gone in the house to try and rid my hands of the several layers of muck they had acquired when I heard voices outside. Peering outside the kitchen window I saw two people that were unmistakably related to Jim. My options were to hide or run – until I realized they couldn’t have missed a quite noticeably purple car out front. So I attempted to shake the straw from my hair, brush the horse dust from my pants and gave up on my shirt covered in actual crap and met the parents.

I believe the term that was used to describe me later to Jim’s brother was “she seemed like a very down to earth girl.” There you go new girlfriends, meeting the parents? Worried about seeming too high maintenance? Try wearing actual Earth. That should remedy it.