Bush can keep his oil. . .

And the Texans can have THEIR black gold. i have found my own, and a new source of therapy. Yes, tack one more issue onto my list of disorders. i spent the morning turning over a concoction of wood shavings, grass trimmings, chicken poo, and old food scraps. i broke a little sweat and rediscovered some muscles that summer allowed me to forget. Yes it was like shoveling snow, only in the summer. . . and there was no snow. But what i found as i got toward the bottom of my stinky little pile was a hole lot of black gold of my own - moist, dark rich compost rich soil!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It looked happy, smelled happy, felt happy. . . and no i didn't taste it. But i bet next years veggies will sing praises of it's yumminess.

Not since childhood do i remember being so overjoyed about dirt.

So here is to dirt, the stinky gross slimy things that make it up, and the otherwise really irritating little critters that creep and crawl and help the gross things metamorphosis into it.

It's never to early to start planning for next years garden