After corresponding with my padre over email about
what to do with the piles of leaves in the backyard, I summoned up enough
energy the next day to finish the task at hand.
I took my trusty rake and, after being instructed to rake all the leaves
and nuts into the compost pile in the backyard, headed to the scene of
yesterday’s conundrum to finish the job.
The second I started raking up the piles of nuts and leaves onto a tarp
I had dug out of the recesses of the garage, I realized it was going to be a
long afternoon. I’m not sure how long it
took me to get everything squared away but it felt like hours. HOURS I tell you. It wasn’t the leaves – no no. It was the damn Black Walnuts. Each nut weighs about ½ a pound. Each tarp-full had about 120 nuts in it = 60
lbs of nuts. Wait, that can’t be
right…sixty pounds?! Good God, no wonder
my entire body is sore.
After the exercise in patience and appreciation for
nature, I decided to take a quick bike ride in hopes of blowing off some steam
‘cause I ain’t gonna lie, raking up Black Walnuts made me want to hack all the
trees in my dad’s backyard. I biked out
of town, passed the family cemetery and paid my respects to my deceased
ancestors (‘sup namesake), and admired the gorgeous sunset. I was rounding a bend in the road, smiling at
a chained up dog that I’m sure was rabid and trying with all his might to break
away and gnaw my legs off, when I came upon a farm property that was spreading
manure across its entirety. Usually I
don’t mind the smell of manure. In fact,
I kind of like it because it makes me think of home…although even that is kind
of strange because I didn’t grow up on a farm.
Right. Anyway, at first I was
enjoying the pungent smell of cow poop.
But I quickly realized that the manure was fresh off the boat, literally
being spread as I biked by, and it was covering fields that were on either side
of me. I was surrounded by cow shit. Then what should appear on the horizon but a
truck that is carrying the hot, steaming, fresh manure. The thing is taking up most of the road so I
pull over to let it pass. The truck
kicks up all this dust in the road that I end up riding straight through so
I’ve now got dust and poop particles (as I’m sure there is such a thing) in my
mouth and hair. It’s right about this
time that the poop stank goes from charming and nostalgic to foul and nauseating. I bike up a hill and see an intersection that
will allow me to escape this poop hell because at this point I’m gagging and
fighting back the urge to ralph all over the road. I make a right at the intersection and for a
moment I have fresh air. SWEET RELIEF.
At least that’s what I think until I bike past a row of trees and
realize I’m on the other side of the poop field. I haven’t escaped the farm property spreading
fresh manure. I am biking around its entire
perimeter. Elizabeth, you idiot. And somehow the stench seems stronger on this
side of the field. The smell gets so bad
I have to use one arm to vampire cape my face to block some of the stank while
I steer my bike with the other.
Balance becomes increasingly difficult as I continue
to mask my nostrils. I pass a small
farmhouse and what’s out front but a psychotic dog that is not chained up. OF COURSE.
So I have my vampire arm caped around my facial orifices, Cujo nipping
at my heels, and what I swear is vomit rising in the back of my throat. As I
look past the farmhouse (and pray for the dog to lose steam or be struck by
lightening) I see, out of nowhere, two people biking towards me on the same
road. Somehow this makes me feel
better. Maybe I can warn them about the
manure they are heading towards and we can all have a good laugh. Or maybe I can tell them to punt the crazy ass
dog they are also headed towards. But
when I get closer to them I realize they are two pubescent boys whom I’m sure
are lovely but stare at me as if I have a second head. And they kind of look like the McPoyles from
It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. No
joke. All they were missing was their
sister and a glass of milk.
Finally I arrive home and all I can do is laugh at
myself. Where the hell am I? I am battling it out with Black Walnuts,
manure, and rabid dogs. I spend most of
my day doing yard work, creating greeting cards and biking through the
countryside. And I am participating in
community activities like Rotary Chorus.
I am loving every.
Single. Second of this.
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