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Dad Blogs DIY Family Fatherhood

There’s Nothing More Manly than Splitting Wood

It’s probably going to reach somewhere near 90-92 degrees here in the Atlanta area today, and I’ve spent the last three weeks splitting firewood for our coming winter where we’ll be lucky to get more than 20 days of temps in the lower 30s or upper 20s.

But beyond just some need to get out and do something manly for a change (as opposed to watching the kids or sitting in a chair at work on the computer all day), there is something very cathartic about mindless physical exertion, and it is this which has drawn me time and again to one of the two stacks of wood in my backyard these past few weeks.

To be sure there is a satisfaction one can gain from parenting or from one’s chosen profession, but in my experience, few things are as satisfying as rounding a day off soaked in sweat (perspiration for my female audience) and having something as solid as a stack of split wood to show for your efforts; even if half of it will probably go to waste since it doesn’t get that cold here anyway.

Also, for me, I get some of my best contemplating in when I’m doing something singular like cutting firewood or mowing the lawn. It is during these times that I’m most introspective, because let’s face it, you don’t really need your brain when you’re working in the yard. I wonder if Einstein came up with some of his most pervasive postulates while working? Perhaps Da Vinci was planing off a new worktable when he came with the idea for the parachute. Who knows.

But, I finished one stack and based on how things are going at work, I luckily have a whole ‘nother stack to go. Skip the gym, cut some wood, keep my sanity. Not a bad deal all in all.

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Dad Blogs DIY Life in these United States

Old MacDonald had a…container garden?

In my old neighborhood, nary a year went by that I didn’t fill up my 5-gallon bucket with fresh tomatoes, cucumbers and sometimes strawberries and go around doling them out to my neighbors. Although I had a fairly small patch of land, two people don’t eat that much and I usually got a really good return. It was always funny watching neighbor’s expressions as they cracked the door open trying to ascertain who I was and what I wanted from them. Confusion changed to excitement (especially among the elderly) when they realized I wasn’t trying to get them to purchase overpriced wrapping paper or stale bars of chocolate for my high school prom.

But, we moved last fall and for many and various reasons, I didn’t do a garden this year. Primarily because (or at least this is the excuse I’m telling myself) I didn’t know how my sun pattern would fall in my yard and I needed to know this before planting. Also, the only flat area available to me currently is at the very back of my yard and I just wasn’t sure I wanted to trek down there daily for weeding and picking.

Since I haven’t not had fresh tomatoes in probably 6 years, I decided to put a couple of plants out in containers on my back porch, where I was reasonably sure they would receive sun. After all, I can’t keep houseplants back there because they get sunburned, so I figured it’d be just about right for my maters. I also used to grow my own plants from seeds, but it wasn’t worth the effort this year for two little old plants, so I purchased some “Better Boy” tomato plants from the local home store and put them in two large square plastic pots right on the back porch.

To say that my yield was less than expected, would be an understatement. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the National Gardening Association called me and kicked me out of their ranks. For one thing, I believe that I put too much natural compost in there right off the bat because within a week of planting them, they were showing signs of burning (too much fertilizer). Also, despite having a single hole in the bottom for drainage, both containers stayed very wet, despite a perpetual drought (until the last two weeks).

At any rate, I got one little ol’ tomato out of it, and it definitely looks more like a Roma tomato than a Better Boy, but whatever. Next year, I’m gonna suck it up and walk down the hill and plant an actual garden. Cuz…this is ridiculous.

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Dad Blogs DIY Family

You Know You’re Getting Old When…

We bought the house we now live in late last year and when I first toured the house with the Realtor (I’m not sure she’s an actual REALTOR) one of the first things I did was look at the backyard. After walking out on the deck and peering over its edge onto a backyard that had a severe slope that started right after the deck supports and ended up about 12 feet down the hill, I immediately said, “No way!”

But after looking at a dozen more houses and finding nothing comparable for the price, I did what we all do when we REALLY want something, but when there are valid reasons for not getting it…I rationalized.

I rationalized that I could plant grass and shrubs on it and it would be beautiful. I rationalized that I could build steps down the side leading to the flat area down by the creek. And indeed, all these things have come to pass (well, I wouldn’t call it “beautiful” at this point just yet).

However, having had to weed-eat this hill (since it’s far too steep for a mower), while trying to keep from sliding down the hill at every step, I finally decided maybe it was time to re-think my idea. And again…I rationalized, except this time I started thinking about this hill and my caring for it when I’m in my 50s. It went something like this:

“Do I really want to be trying to cut this grass without breaking my neck when my body is 15 years older and more beat up than it is now? Will I be able to afford some kid to come do it for me? What if they don’t do a good job? What if he hurts himself while trying to cut it and he sues me?

So, I finally decided that, while I could leave the shrubs and small trees, perhaps I should just lay down a thick carpet of pine straw and be done with it. And so, I headed to my local Mega-Home Upkeep Mart and bought 12 bales of pinestraw.

It didn’t even cover a 1/3 of it. And have you ever tried to walk on pinestraw? It’s very slippery, especially on a 15 degree slope. There’s apparently some trick to laying down pinestraw on a hill and as far as I can tell, it’s basically that you put the bale on your left, grab some in your hand and throw it on your right. Forget trying to do it uphill/downhill. As I found out, you’ll only sliiiide down the hill every time.

So now I’m considering having someone drop me off another 30 bales and finishing the job. They wanted about $5.50 per bale (spread) for someone else to do it and I can buy just the bales for $3.49 at the Mega-Home Upkeep Mart, so that’s a good bit o’ savings. My only question now is how I’ll refresh it every year. I won’t be able to climb all over the hill to lay a new layer like I did this time. I might just have to stand at the top and toss it down. I’m sure the coverage would be excellent (NOT!).

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Dad Blogs DIY Family

Digging Up Other People’s Memories

We have two rather large dogs, and like all dogs, they LOVE to chase critters, of which we have a-plenty. This means that when any sort of critter is spied and takes to ground, digging ensues. However, sometimes digging ensues even without an obvious critter hole. Such was the case when I peered over my balcony and spotted a fresh hole near one of my sprinkler heads.

Also flapping around in the breeze were two old polaroid pictures and what appeared to be the corner of some kind of box jutting out of the freshly-pawed earth. My curiosity piqued, I walked down the steps and crouched over the pictures. The were of a middle-aged woman, lovingly hugging her Golden Retriever…

Uh huh, now you know what the box contained right? Yep, the apparently cremated remains of one much-loved Golden, contained within a hard plastic box wrapped up in a plastic bag with matching Polaroids.

Part of me wanted to say, “Ick!” and throw it away. After all, the thing was only buried like two inches underground, and very close, I might add, to my sprinkler pipe. The other part of me that likes dogs and understands the owner’s intent, figures I should go bury the thing again.

For now, the box remains where I pulled it out of the ground. It seems pointless to bury it. After all, the previous owners will never know. But what if I don’t, and my basement becomes haunted by the ghost of a Golden Retriever? That would be too weird.