Moving Dirt

Because my house was sinking the workers were here to dig out dirt in the cellar and install steel beams. Along the north side of the house, a concrete swale was added to move rain water away from the back of the house, so more dirt was moved from there. I have three piles of nicely mounded dirt, two of them adobe. The other, although rocky, is closer to what gardeners and horticulturalists call soil.

The mounds of dirt have inspired me to make a garden. Also, the financial impact of the house fix has inspired me to stay home instead of taking trips to foreign lands.

Since I moved to New Mexico, I haven’t been inclined to garden. Other things have taken my time and energy, but now I find myself checking garden books out from the library and reading carefully ‘The Dyer’s Garden’ to see what is likely do okay here. And I own a copy of ‘Navajo and Hopi Dyes’ which lists more plants for the Southwest dyer’s garden.

There is a movement on to use natural dyes. They are surprisingly colorfast and have a vibrancy not found in procion dyes. Some plants require a massive amount to get dye, but others are surprisingly productive in a small space. I am curious to see what I can pull off in my small spaces and with so little water.

My neighbor-who-takes-care-of-cats had offered the use of his wheelbarrow if needed, so I took him up on it. He proudly told me, “This was my dad’s; he bought it in 1942.” It has clearly been well used. And, it’s a substantial thing. In fact, so substantial, it’s heavy without dirt in it. For a person (me) who hasn’t been working out for some time, it may be more than I want to start with. But it is a thing of beauty in a wheelbarrowish way. The handles are well worn and there is a hint of red on the wood, so I have wondered in my trudging if it were the original red wheelbarrow that inspired the William Carlos Williams poem that has moved so many people in its poignant simplicity. I will probably return the wheelbarrow to my neighbor and buy a lighter duty one, but I am glad to have had this poem come to mind.

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.