Boys and Moving Earth.

P.O. = Personal Observation. - Today hasn't exactly progressed the way I designed it.

But then again it is Monday.

Monday's never get on the way they are designed.

I've come to expect that.

I'm Okay with it.

Really.

But I'm grinding my teeth none-the-less.

Why?

Because I'm working on a project. My novel. Hey what a novel idea. Yadda yadda. Whatever.

Anyway, I had this idea, this plan, this 'Hey I like that. Let's design and implement that right now.' idea.

But I've hit a snag, a snafu, a 'Why's that fly snorkeling in my soup' problem.

And I've been scratching my head for the last two hours trying to find a way around, over, under, or through this problem. Thankfully the sledge hammer is locked in the tool shed.

So here I sit.

Grinding my teeth.

Along with the urge to remove the enamel from my pearly whites, I also have this great urge to write. So I'm blogging my frustration.

'But Hal?' you ask. 'What's boys and earth moving have to do with it?'

Well, I'm not being vague or anything. Nothing veiled here about kids and dirt in the above.

No that's just me being frustrated with the last two hours in front of this stupid little box.

But having the need to write, I thought I would tell you about a well known fact which I watched manifest itself today.

That fact is: Boys Love to Play in the Dirt.

Last Saturday was supposed to be a work day at Church. On the docket were two main items.

1) Pull the remaining trees blown over by hurricane number four (whatever its name was) out of the lake where they are currently resting.

2) Dig out the two sorry looking flower gardens at the end of the sidewalk, refill them with good soil, and plant two rose trees, some Mexican Heather, and some other donated plants in them.

Well, can you guess what happened last Saturday?

Ah, never mind. I'll tell you.

It rained.

It wasn't supposed to rain, but it rained anyway. Stupid forecasters.

So plans one and two didn't get accomplished.

This Saturday is our annual Harvest Dinner put on by the gracious ladies of the Church and our hope was to have those two flower beds at the end of the sidewalk ready to greet all those coming.

So today, I thought to myself, 'Hal, you may just be one simple man, but you could go over and get to work on digging out those two beds.'

So I took the hint from myself and headed over to the Church. After all, it was a beautiful Florida day. The kind of day one moves to Florida for, or in my case, the kind of day that one claims for refusing to leave Florida.

There were three plants in the beds; one really healthy and the other scraggly. But I couldn't waste them so I decided to replant them elsewhere on the property.

I did so and was moving along fairly well by the time I got to the third plant when someone showed up. Can you guess who?

It's rhetorical, but you might have the idea that it was a neighborhood boy. Hence the title of the post.

He immediately wanted to help dig a hole. And at 5-years-old who could blame him?

Unfortunately all I had was a big man's shovel. No problem. He could handle it, I was assured.

I had to break the earth up for him to make shoveling easier, but he did pretty good and we got the third plant in the ground.

His name's Seth, btw.

So we went back to the flower beds and proceeded to fill the wheelbarrow. I wish you could have seen him get down into the flower bed and struggle to lift that shovel filled with dirt out of the hole into the wheelbarrow.

It was a testament to determination.

About half an hour later another boy showed up. Brian is a couple of years older than Seth and seeing the fun Seth was having moving earth he asked if he could help.

Brian said he was used to this kind of work.

Boy, that'll put a smile on your face.

So I gave him a shovel and he went to work and I stepped back and watched them move the earth high in sand and salts out of the bed and into a freshly emptied wheelbarrow.

We had to occasionally stop and examine fat earth worms that squiggled and wriggled with much laughter.

But after a bit, I said that was deep enough (about 8 inches) and then I unveiled what was under a black tarp next to the flower bed we just had emptied.

Their eyes lit up and their mouths went wide in huge grins.

Seth said, "Wow, I want to jump in it."

It was a yard of fresh dirt.

Brian asked what we were going to do with that and I said fill up the hole.

Both went right at it with great joy.

Man, to be a boy again.

Well, tomorrow I guess I tackle the second flower bed.

Should be fun.

And you know what?

No more teeth grinding.

Phew!