Mulch

            I like mulch. A few days ago, a truckload was dumped on the large blue tarpaulin on a corner of our gravel driveway. It was actually a “half-truckload,” which I had ordered not knowing how big the truck was. I think the Nursery mentioned how many cubic yards made up a half-truckload (5), but that would not have been much help, even if I were paying attention.

 

            So, there it was – a small mountain of shredded bark and wood, staring at me accusingly, as if to say, “Your job is clear.”

 

            And that’s one of the things I like about mulch: my job is clear: Use a pitchfork to load it into my wheelbarrow, haul it to one of the open areas without flowers, dump it, and then spread it around with an iron rake. Then go back to the mulch pile and do it again. And again. And again. My goal: Use up the pile. It’s a great collaboration between pitchfork, wheelbarrow and rake, all orchestrated by me.

 

            When in the areas near our plants, I lift large handfuls out of the wheelbarrow to sprinkle onto the bare areas between plants, or toss with freedom and care. I might do a bit of weeding as I work, provided it’s one of the three species of weed that Kim has trained me – not entirely successfully – to identify. She joins in to do quite a bit of the garden mulch spreading, as she is worried when I get too close to valuable plants.

 

            What do we get when we are done? It’s a beautiful brown setting for our trees and flowers, an organic version of a well-framed picture. And what’s more, the mulch frame covers the ugly or boring stretches of our yard – areas that some people would fill with grass.

             It’s a setting that says “nature” in a way that a perfect grassy lawn cannot. I like being in nature Up North. And I confess to a bit of pride in my ability to do the physical labor. Kim has placed most of the plants, but I moved most of the mulch. And unlike my experience shoveling snow, if and when I keel over, I will have a soft place  to land.

            And no, we did not quite distribute all of the mulch – a small pile still calls to us in a way that only slightly admonishes. I like the way it reminds me how big the pile was a few days ago.