Like a vengeful, if somewhat slow-moving, Norse god the Pile glowers at me as I walk past. It was there when I set off for work yesterday morning, it was there when I got back and when I put the bins out, and it was still there when I brought the bins back in this evening. It's there now while I write this. It waits, its humus-filled mass accusing, its gently sloping sides a mute testament to the power of the rain.

We have a pile of compost on our driveway.

We got it delivered last week after the trellis was finished since, we reasoned, there was a lot of bare earth that needed mulching. The soil is not uniformly good, either, but the main point is to put the compost down to stop weeds running riot.

Then Jen put her back out, so her weeding targets have been unattainable. Then I was worn out from disc golf, so I've just been wiped in the evenings when I might reasonably have been doing some compost distribution. And now the guilt has started, because we've had the compost a week and I haven't moved a single shovelful. This weekend isn't looking any more likely, frankly, nor the weekend after that, and after that I won't be doing anything much for a while because my knee will have been hacked about.

Still, Russell likes digging in it.

Posted by Dunx at June 5, 2008 07:04 PM