Another absolutely glorious day in Southern (sort of) Connecticut, and I’m headed right back into the garden, as soon as I get this down.
Another extremely lucrative trip to Home Depot, the store (Derby, CT) still has those specialized bags of Pro Mix planting mix for vegetables and herbs, as well as for flowers and plants, marked down even more. If you’re in this area, you’ll want to get there. At just over two bucks a bag, this will sell out. Soon.
I grabbed twelve bags. All things come to twelve, in my world…just ’cause.
I also grabbed two bags each of humus/manure mix, and garden soil, both of which mix wonderfully with that peat-based Pro Mix stuff.
I trundled it all out to my car, which was already half-full.
It looks like a freeze-dried mini van.
So, now I have to play Motor-Vehicle Jenga. And here’s where the afore-mentioned Veteran comes in. I’m eying the back part of the car. Both of the rear seats are already folded down, and in fact, live like that. I started moving things into the front seat, front floor, piling stuff up a little higher in the back…and a man, eying the car, eying the pile, eying the car, asked me, “Ma’am, do you have all of that?”
Let’s get this down…I do not mind, “Ma’am.” I don’t mind it one little bit. The gray at my temples allows for it, I earned all that gray, and I have earned, in my 52 years, “Ma’am.” Besides, the gentleman asking me if I needed help had his fair share of gray, too.
I said, “I think so…I really need to make room for it all, and those bags aren’t heavy…thanks, though!”
He’s dubiously eying the pile, and the car. “Okay, well…good luck!”
I got everything moved, grabbed a bag of poop, and he popped out of his truck.
“I’m sorry,” he said. ” I don’t want to spook you, but…I can’t. I can’t let you do this alone.”
So, we played Auto Jenga together, until it was all loaded. All of it.
What a car!!! That’s twelve bags of potting mix, two bags of manure, two bags of garden soil, a BIG bag of potting mix…behind that is a 17-gallon tub filled with groceries, a tool box, more groceries, and a bag of stuff I have to sort. The front seat and floor…more groceries.
He looked at all that my tiny car held, and just shook his head, laughing. When I went to shake his hand and thank him for his help, my eye caught the back window of his truck. There it was…the Marine Corps emblem, next to the newer one, “My Grandson is a U.S. Marine.”
He’s a Viet Nam veteran. His son served in the Gulf War, the first time around in Iraq. His grandson is currently serving in Afghanistan. All of them, Marines. With all of that on his plate, he still took the time to help someone load a bunch of soil bags into the car.
Thank you, Sir….Thank you, Veteran. I’ll give my Navy veteran son an extra smooch today in your honor. He’ll be hauling all of this stuff out of the car, will soooo kill me if I do it alone!