I remember L.O. telling me years ago, “You know son, I’m still strong, but year by year I can feel my strength leavin’ me.”
I thought to myself, “Wow, gettin’ older is a bitch!”
Well… Now I know how true that statement is.
This is the tale of the great Intervale dirt movement of ‘09
New waterlines going in, so I can get free dirt. It’s mine of course, but the city acts like they’re doin’ ya a favor.
The tractor sinks trying to go to the back of the property so we dump 1 1/4 yards by the little barn.
(Note the rut, and the fact that I’m already shoveling)

My tools are NOT ideal. A half-spade shovel, iron hoe, and small, rusty wheelbarrow.

I thought I was gonna get mostly top soil, “good dirt” as the guy said.
Erm, No. Didn’t turn out that way, note that this is mostly CLAY

AND IT IS IN B I G HARD CLUMPS!

As of this writing I’ve managed to create a crude motorcycle path where it usually floods

Fill in various low spots created by the dogs, and build up a path for the concrete stones to the Toy Hauler.

Every muscle in my body ACHES.
AND…
If I don’t finish moving that pile of clay before it rains?
I’ll have a motorcycle jump whether I want one or not.
It’s official. If I can’t afford to HIRE such a thing to be done?
It. Doesn’t. Get. Done!