I was on Ian’s tractor from eight this morning until sometime just after noon, pausing only for quick tree-watering breaks. And I’m only about 2/3 done.
My neighbor and best customer J looked around and noticed that the manure pile I’ve been working on for years, which is mostly screened from view by a big cargo container, is basically starting to take over the world. J would like it to go do that somewhere else, but there’s this problem with manure piles – they’re hell on wheels for attracting flies and mulching gardens, but they serve no other purpose and can be difficult to get rid of.
And J was lamenting this fact just Wednesday, wondering if there were some way – any way – I could just sort of take his enormous manure pile out for a walk and neglect to bring it back.
And I said, “Do you know who owns the parcel across the road from you?” Because I’ve never seen the least bit of activity there, but it’s a bit off my turf and I might not.
And J said, “Oh, we couldn’t put it there. That’s BLM land.”
And I said, “Perfect!”
And so Gulchendiggensmoothen and I spent our morning on land belonging to the Bureau of Land Management (“Our Motto: Hey, you can’t go there! That’s public property!”) And while there we contributed several tons of first-class fertilizer to the public weal. Because we’re just that kind of guys. It’s back from the road a ways and behind some trees, you’ll have to look close to find it once the tractor tracks fade a bit. But it’s there if you want some, just help yourselves.
make bricks out of the manure then after drying in the sun stack for winter fire wood
There’s this technology called “manure spreader”. I even have an old one for lawn art although it is a bit worse for wear and has daffodils growing in it. The idea of throwing the stuff away rather than spreading it seems wrong to me, but that might be because I grew up in Wisconsin.