Woodchips and a wheelbarrow

 

                              March 23, 2024

Feel a bit tired today.

                                I’m pretty tired.

                                My arms are sore.

                                My body is feeling exhausted.

                                And my fingers even feel tired.

                                The wind is blowing.

                                It’s gray outside.

                                Sophy is sitting on my lamp, with her feathers foofed out, and her eyes gazing at me, and then closing. Wanting me to turn on the light.

                                Yesterday morning started out alright.

                                Bess and I were taking care of the puppies, and loving on them, when I noticed a steam rising from heap of woodchips in our old garden. Actually, the tree trimmers, were trimming branches around the neighborhood power lines, and my sister asked if they could leave some of the wood chips, so we could mulch around our yard, and use it to fill in a huge indent in our driveway that makes a huge puddle when it rains. 

The mote in our driveway came about when my parents first separated, and our house nearly got flooded, when my dad was irrigating the field, our neighbor saw the water a flooding us, and dug a trench to help the water go back where it should. And it’s been a beautiful reflection pond, bird bath, ever since. But it’s really not that great when you need to park.

Also we wanted some woodchips to and cover some puncture weed patches.

                                Bess told them they could dump as much as they wanted in our old garden by the side of the road.

We weren’t sure they were actually going to dump the wood chips, as we had asked them before, and they hadn’t.

But this year.

I think we got all the neighbor tree’s chips. They would trim branches around the neighborhood, and then come back. They’d dumped several, I think three four for truckloads.

                                So it was a humongous pile.

                                Anyhow, while we were playing with the puppies, I noticed steam, or smoke rising from this pile. The puppies like to escape and climb onto the is huge pile, and play king of the mountain, then slide down.

                I was concerned because of so much steam was rising. So I went to the pile, and dug down with my hands, and found it was quite warm. The day before, Thursday, the sun was very hot, I did koto lessons outside, and felt a bit sunburned afterward. Then this beautiful storm came out of nowhere, after lessons, and it started this fine rain, with mostly blue sky, and then a beautiful rainbow appeared.

It was quite magic, and I felt it was just for me. This rainbow. And this sudden bit of rain.

                But the woodchips were wet from the rain, on top. But they were also very wet from just been green wood. There were a bunch of willow branches that had been chopped, and cedar, and lots of elm, and I’m not sure what else. But it was wet on top, and wet in the inside.

                And the sun being so warm, I think was making this heat up a lot.

                I asked Bess for her opinion, and she was thinking it was just giving off a lot of energy.

                At first, I was thinking she was right.

                I came back to it later…

                And dug deeper.

                IT was very, very hot. And in places, it was super moldy, and in the moldy places it was hot enough to be unpleasant to my skin.

                This caused much concern. And this was not a small pile of wood. This was several, three or more truckloads of woodchips, next to our woodshop, and our little building, and heaps, and heaps of wood from my sister’s wood business.

I was worried about it combusting.

                I didn’t have a tractor.

                Only a will barrow.

                My sister was busy, with music lessons.

                I wasn’t sure what to do. Do I leave it be?

            Or...try and do something, just in case?

            One part of me wanted to leave it. It'd be fine.

        Then the other part. Said I should do something about it. 

                But it was so very hot. I hadn’t milked the goats, or done my morning chores.

                So I did the only thing I knew how.

                I got the wheelbarrow out.

And scooped, and scooped, and wheeled and dumped the woodchips, and spread them out.

Me and my little wheelbarrow. Back and forth, scooping. I kept thinking maybe I was being too concerned.

Then I’d dig deep down, and find more moldy patches, that were so very hot.

                So I’d keep going.

                In some places, the wood was dense, I think because they had chopped mostly just twigs, and branches.

                It felt a bit rude to my body, to be working so hard, but I didn’t know what else to do. So I just kept scooping, and dumping. Probably too frantically. I was trying not to be. I wanted to feel steady. And calm. 

        But when you're working that fast. Your body thinks otherwise. At time's like those, it's good to pause, and calm yourself. 

                I saw farmers pass with tractors. That could have really  made short work of this.

Sigh.

But we kept going, me and my wheelbarrow, and God.

I stopped to milk goats.

                My sister had a moment to pause, and I showed her how hot it was in the moldy patches.

                She took a turn while I did goats.

                Then she had get ready to teach music lessons.

                So I went back and scooped some more.

                A neighbor stopped in, and I paused for moment, to show her puppies.

Then back to the woodpile.

                A wheelbarrow at a time.

                One wheelbarrow at time. I was covered in sawdust, and my shoes were filled with woodchips.

Sometimes it was so hot in places, it felt like the whole thing was just gassing off heat.

 I did this until I just was too exhausted to do any more, and the mountain of woodchips was quite diminished.

When I finally stopped, my body was so hot, it felt like I’d absorbed the heat from the woodchips.

I was so hot.

Then Bess and her little violin student wanted to sing together, so we all sang. My nephew was at my house, so all four of us sang, and made music together. It was a beautiful moment. 

Then Bess needed to get some pallets, so we hauled some pallets back, and then she paused, and did some more woodchips.

And I took a long rest.

                There are still heaps left. But My sister took over for a bit in the evening.

                And God must have heard my concern, because it rained that night, and has been raining since.

                And though it’s probably hot and soggy all the way through. It’s not such a big pile now.

                It’s weird. Life.

                Sometimes you don’t really know what to do.

                To leave the woodchip pile as it is?

                Or to do what you can, and hope for the best.

                So you start doing what you can, one load at time. Though it feels like your chipping away at huge mountain. 

                I need to remind myself that pausing is a good idea. Also breathing in and out.

            So you can feel yourself.

            And not get so tired.  

            And when you pause, you can hear spirit speaking, which always is a voice of calm.

            And you might feel like everyone is passing by, while you’re going back and forth, trying your best.

                You and your will barrow. Trying to keep things from combusting.

But then, as you just do what you can.

With what you have.

Little by little.

The mountain is moved.

And you may feel the heat first-hand. And you know how soggy the woodchips are, and you’ve delved into the mold.

And perhaps no one else sees or feels, or knows what you know.

So you just start.

You found the hot soggy woodchips.

So the task is yours to do.

Even if all you have is a wheelbarrow.

And if someone helps you, then you get a gift. And how beautiful is that gift.

And if it’s just you and God.

Then, it’s just you and God, and a wheelbarrow. And that’s enough.

And so, sometimes in life.

You might have four truckloads of woodchips. A mountain, a moldy mountain to move.

And you wonder if you can move it. And you wonder if anybody will help.

But as you start going, you realize, perhaps, this was your mountain to move.

And maybe the whole point was, you just did what you could, with what you had, and when you can’t do anything else, God makes up the difference, and sends rain.