What? Has it already been eight weeks since my first blog entry? My life has been too busy and too hectic. The bad-hectic is a thing of the past and the good-busy is picking up speed.
Today's report on the place known as 27.741602, -97.128663.
After the record-setting rainfall we've seen the last several months, we had to wait weeks for the island water table to go down and our new yard's low spots to dry before we could see what sculpting the land needed to control the outcomes of future downpours. Finally, in came the backhoe and a few loads of sand to encourage future runoff to keep heading into the ponds. Next, we had the last segment of the driveway poured — the entrance from the street — which suddenly gave us free drive-up access and a psychological boost.
Then the topic of sand came up again for a different reason. Finally, after years of waiting, it became time for the yard to take shape. That meant dozens of truckloads of sand brought in, and I could finally see what I've imagined billions of time but didn't yet exist. The builder wanted to wait until after we moved to bother with the yard, but then where would our hundreds of potted plants go as they're waiting for me to plant them?
As of April 8, we have sand. Lots of sand, though, now that it's spread out and in its rightful place, it looks rather ordinary, much like what you'd call a yard. Or perhaps a desert. Much of it is sloped sand, or perhaps sandy slopes, angled down gracefully from the house up on its hill. Some slopes are more graceful than others, ranging from gentle to enthusiastic. Most of it is now relatively smooth, if you take off your glasses and let your eyes relax, though it's not yet done. My new best friend, Roland, came back Saturday morning with his bulldozer and rake to push and smooth the few remaining rough spots.
I'll continue to smooth bumps as needed, and even wheelbarrow in sand from the unwanted berm around that big pond way over yonder, and make a little raised, mounded bed to add a little interest. There will never be a "done." Nothing could be worse. It's the process I'm here for, not some "done," perfect yard. If I ever get to that point, I'll have to tear it all out and start over.
Below was the scene last Wednesday morning showing a third of the sand piles received and waiting for their exciting new lives of bringing fulfillment and happiness to a multitude of flora and fauna. This is the sidewalk across the front of the house looking east toward the gulf — see the Lot Plan image on the top-right of this page.
Note the line of rocks in place in the bed below the roof drip line, with the bed waiting for filler — sand and possibly soil enhancements. Most plants will have nothing but sand and like it, but for the two beds alongside walkways, we may include a couple of fancy things more exotic that like their soil a little richer.
Below provides a wider angle of the front as the process was underway.
This shot below is from the far back corner of the lot — the top-right of the Lot Plan. These piles made up two-thirds of the total sand delivered, with 10 more truckloads arriving later to fill out the lowest two corners of the lot.
The bright gold worker bee guided by the most skilled and amazing artist.
Ms BrightGoldWorkerBee and her friend, Mr. EveryGoodandPerfectGiftfromAbove dancing their Texas two-step.
This was near the midpoint of mini-piles distributed but not yet smooth. I personally raked the whole yard, focusing on the slopes, and raking them over and over to achieve as much smoothness and continuity as possible. The back was singing halleluia when we finally let ourselves rest that night.
And then it was Thursday. Who would have thought it would take from 6am till 2pm to spread four bales of protective hay spread-eagle over the most enthusiastic of the slopes? Maybe it was in part from the help of that 40 mph breeze that kept rolling the spread hay into adorable little mini tumbleweeds. Chasing those down was a nice break from the stooping and bending, I found. Watering it down flat was more fun, and also watering all the unprotected sand, too, to give it a tight and all-together-now outlook.
Take that, cloudbursts, as you dare to rain again on those sweet slopes.
And with that dare, rain was officially forecast for the weekend. I'll cover how Ray and I prepared those slopes for rain in the next segment.
Just imagine becoming the way you used to be as a very young child, before you understood the meaning of any word, before opinions took over your mind. The real you is loving, joyful, and free. The real you is just like a flower, just like the wind, just like the ocean, just like the sun.
