June 12th, 2023

I am rather tickled with myself right now.  It's a lovely feeling and I want to savour it.   And it's funny that I have such big feelings about such a relatively small thing. Still, it's the truth.  It's not pride (which goeth before a fall) it's just pleasure.

And what is it that has me so very pleased with myself?  Well, on Saturday, I dug a swale.  That is not a typo.   

If you are unfamiliar with the term, a swale is: "A swale is a shady spot, or a sunken or marshy place. In US usage in particular, it is a shallow channel with gently sloping sides. Such a swale may be either natural or human-made. Artificial swales are often infiltration basins, designed to manage water runoff, filter pollutants, and increase rainwater infiltration".

In short, it's a path for water to take through our yard and back out into the bay (which is behind our house) where it belongs.  It's a good thing.

When we bought the house, there was already a swale in place. And it works great!  Even though we live in a place that, during the rainy season is prone to rain storms that are locally referred to as "gullywashers", the rain stays out of the house and also does not create itself a pond in the yard somewhere.  Nope, it just goes right on past the house under the fence. Bye bye !

But somewhere along the line, during the construction/deconstruction necessary for the project room, a considerable amount of dirt got moved by the builder guys with their big old diggery machines and they, inexplicably, moved the dirt to the side of the house, effectively filling in the swale. Hmmmm.   Our assumption at the time was that when the project was done  they would take the same big old diggery machines and move the dirt.................elsewhere.  And of course we all know what happens when we assume.  

Since they never finished the project, we will never know if they intended to do anything about the filled in swale.  But clearly, we needed to.  And not just because it's one of the many things that gets inspected before the project is officially complete, but also because we don't want water in the house!    That's a firm rule.

So digging out the swale was on the list of things that still needed to be done.  Saturday was a pretty day, not too horrible yet to be doing an outside project.  Even though it's very definitely getting warmer, the humidity hasn't climbed to the top of the pile yet.  And that is something to take advantage of while we still can.  Tim elected to finish up work on the fascia of the exterior.  And since that involves being way up high on a scaffold which requires climbing a ladder to even get to, and my general feeling about heights,  I volunteered to dig.

I can dig.  We own a shovel.  I've planted flowers and vegetables before.  I've planted trees and shrubs!   And I have shoveled snow from more walkways and driveways than I care to recall in my lifetime.  So I was not remotely concerned about whether or not this was a task I was really able to do or not.   The fact that I am an out of shape, nearly 70 year old never once crossed my mind.   Not sure if I am in denial or delirious but over breakfast that morning I just casually said, "While you are working on the trim, I think I will dig out the swale".   To his credit, Tim did not scoff.  He looked at me for a long minute and then (very wisely) said, "If that's what you want to do".

In preparation, I put on my junkiest clothes, loads of sunscreen, a set of sunsleeves and a pair of gloves.  See?  Even though it's been awhile, I remember some important parts to the art of shoveling!   I grabbed the shovel and headed outside, ready to get it done.  I was ready to knock this out.

The first order of business was a size up the task.  I approached the filled in area from every direction possible until I had an idea of the width and depth that needed to be moved.  Then I pulled over my little garden cart.  It's easier to move than a wheelbarrow as it has 4 wheels instead of three and is, therefore, far more stable.  My idea was that I would shovel the dirt into the cart and then pull the cart to a different, non-swale, part of the yard to dump it.  Good plan.

Everything was set up and in place, I was ready to go.  

I began with great energy and good attitude, shoveling dirt into the cart and then pulling the cart to the opposite side of the backyard and dumping it over and over, spreading the dirt all along the side, under shrubs and trees. I didn't want the pile of dirt to be all in one spot.  Sometimes this meant getting whacked by tree  branches and stabbed by thorns.  No matter, the job was getting done.

Occasionally, Tim would climb down from his perch atop the scaffolding and offer a gentle suggestion but otherwise, he allowed me to be me and do the job my way.   He is a smart man and we have been married a long time.  He gets me.

I began to run out of steam in shockingly short order.  About an hour in, I had to take a break.  I needed water and I needed to just not be shoveling for a minute or two.  I stepped back into the house.  I carefully stayed just in the kitchen because at that point, I was  beyond filthy.  Digging is dirty work.  I was also so sweaty that it was making my sunscreen run into my eyes and if you've never experienced that little bit of delight, let me just say that it stings a bit.

After I cooled off a bit, I took a deep breath, re-did my ponytail which was trying it's best to go AWOL,  went back outside, grabbed my shovel and got back to it.   I said I was gonna do it, so I was by gawd, going to do it.   I can be very stubborn.

With far less energy and enthusiasm I continued.  If it was just shoveling perhaps it wouldn't have been quite as  difficult.  But it was the shoveling, plus the removing of rocks.  I'd dig into the nice soft sandy soil for a few shovelfuls and then "clunk"  I would hit a rock.  And the thing about rocks is, you have no idea how big they are, or what shape or how deep or, well, anything.  There is nothing to be done but to take the time to dig the rock out and remove it.  Then what do you do with the rock?  Well, in my case, I tossed it to the side along the fence where, to this day, they still remain.  There are now enough rocks along that fence to build a small rock wall if I was so inclined.  (by the way, I am not)  Then of course there was the pulling of the cart to the side and dumping it. Over and over, again and again.

Eventually on one of Tim's check in's, he proclaimed that I had dug deeply enough and that all that remained now was to smooth it out.  Apparently I do not dig neatly.  So I got a rake and smoothed things as best I could. I filled in a few spots that were too deep and lopped off the top of a couple of places that we a bit too high.  

I stood back and checked it out from, again, several different directions.  Utilizing just eyeball measurements, it looks ok.  In fact, I'd say it looks pretty good.  Tim was happy with it, I was  happy with it. We called it a day, congratulated ourselves and each other on jobs well done.  We put away our toys and went inside to clean up.

I was so incredibly dirty it looked more as if I had burrowed than shoveled.  Geez!  Not sure how it is that no matter what task I take on, when it's finished, not only am I unbelievably dirty but so is my work area.  That applies to painting, cooking, and clearly also shoveling.  The difference is that if I make a mess outside, who cares?  The birds?

Maybe a part of my delight in this task is that it's over.  Perhaps it's the feeling of satisfaction that comes with a job that is both started and completed all on the same day.  Maybe it's that I did a pretty good job for a old lady. I've never been the prissy sort.  I never objected to getting dirty or doing a physically demanding job. But as I get older, more and more of those sorts of chores are not such a good idea.  I have to admit that there are things that are now really beyond my ability to tackle.  I hate admitting it, but it's the truth.

Turns out, I can still dig.   And for the record, my hat is off to anyone who digs for a living.  Dang that is hard work!   And therefore, Yay  me!