Excavation, earth, and restoration

Holy Mary mother of God manual labor is hard.  I say that in those terms because it sounds Catholic and for some reason, it sounds like the appropriate thing to preface my lamentations regarding pick, shovel and wheelbarrow.  But I digress already.  Yes, landscaping is hard if you have an ambitious plan and are doing a good portion of it yourself.  It's also stressful because there is this big expensive mess in our front yard that runs a very high risk of becoming the stereotypical eternal project that those of the male persuasion seem to be pre-disposed to start and never finish.  However, finish I will.  Come hell or high water or credit card abuse, finish I will.

What's interesting to me is that the earth, in this story, just sits there and doesn't want to do anything except sit there and do nothing.  "The" Earth is vibrant and changing and moving and evolving in so many other ways, but in my yard, shit just sits there.  And that shit is heavy.

Days of pounding, breaking, lifting, shoveling and moving large chunks of aforementioned earth have left me sore and worn but with a renewed appreciation of why I avoided the allure of construction apprenticeships and criminal enterprises and went to college.  But I will admit, smashing the shit out of something does something for the soul.  Especially if it needed to be smashed and the replacement is entirely dictated by the needs of your soul.  Yeah it's only a front yard, but it's MY front yard and dammit it's gonna be built like my front yard was meant to be built.  Pleasant, organized, clean and appealing, but with a hint of different and a large dose of attention to details.  And I sure as hell will not have any damn lantanas.  Or palm trees.