Transplanting Fruit Trees or Alternatively, Never Again.

Behind my second only-for-storage mobile home there are two cherry trees. Oh wait hold on, what I really meant was behind my second mobile home there were only two cherry trees. Now there are many. How we got from one to a shit ton was that, when you stop mowing the lawn, apparently the cherry trees take that as in invitation to spread motherfucking everywhere.

Instead of looking at this as an unfortunate event, we said, hey free cherry trees.

So, in a moment of optimism so foolish I am kinda surprised we went for it, we decided to transplant the trees into buckets. So that we could then move them out of the yard and into the orchard at our leisure.

Ha ha ha.

So armed with shovels and a wheelbarrow we went out behind the other mobile home and began to dig up trees. Now, one of things about trees that are all growing together out of one master tree is that the roots will be one giant mess. But if you cut off too much root the tree won't make it and then you will be a tree murderer and then you will never be able to go into the woods again for fear of angry Ents.

Also, and I not sure I have really mentioned this enough, the soil is really rocky. Did I say really rocky? I meant like super totally a lot sweet Jesus god where are these stones coming from rocky. So what started out as a simple concept, dig in a wide circle around the tree and then pry up to force the root ball out of the ground became a super fun full sun adventure.

First off, I would only ever make it about a quarter of the way around the tree, before I hit a rock. Then I would move to another side and try that, only to hit another rock. Then I would have the choice of making the circle wider or smaller to avoid it, if it could be avoided, and then I would fuck it all up and kill too many of the roots and then Scott would glare at me because he is really good with plants and all the trees he dug up were perfect and alive and shit.

So after murdering a few I got the hang of it.

And by got the hang of it I mean I was so paranoid that I would dig an extra wide perimeter and then separate out the roots by hand. Which of course was just the fastest method ever. However even with my crazy paranoia about my unintentional plant murder, we started to run out of tree tubs. So then Scott went to the shed and got more tree tubs. And then we ran out again and he went and got all the tree tubs.

Which is how we ended up with 25 trees.

Which is, for those of you not following along well at home, a lot of motherfucking trees.

So then we were all like, where the fuck are we going to put these? In the end we ended up setting the tubs right outside the garden. Which was up hill from where we were working because of course it was because life is a dick like that. So in end we just lined them up outside the fence and Scott watered them and petted them or whatever it is one does with plants and then I went inside to wash my hands and discovered I had sunburn all over my torso. Again.

So now wearing my shirt hurts and the garden looks like a Chia Pet and I am dead tired but it's all worth it because now we have more cherry trees that are probably about to die.

Did I say that? I mean that they are going to live forever and we will love them and they will be the happiest trees ever.

Yes. Ha ha ha haa. That is what I meant.

Totally.

Also, Ent's aren't real, right? I mean hypnotically speaking, if I just accidentally killed a bunch of fruit trees and then said that the ones we moved are going to die, they wouldn't come to my house and kill me right?

Right?

RIGHT?

Oh boy.

Fruit Trees and Not Getting Enough Sleep.

The past week has been an triathlon of not sleeping due to that job thing I have to go to. Basically, I was working ten hour days, and one fucking motherfucking 20 hour one, and catching three hours of sleep between jobs whenever I could.

Because money.

Of course we would plan on planting trees the day we got home from work, because we are bad at thinking things through. Now, in a fit of preplanned madness, Scott had already purchased all the trees, and set them up on our deck. Which happens to be right outside our bedroom window.

So we did our overnight job, said goodbye to our coworkers, and drove in the darkness. When we pulled into the driveway the sun was just starting to come up, turning the eastern sky an unfortunate shade of pink. So I staggered into the house took the dog out, checked on all the ungrateful hungry mouths, and then face planted into bed without taking a shower like a fucking hobo.

So when I awoke, sometime around noon, my first thought was that I should go back to sleep. Possibly forever. I felt hungover, even though I didn't get to drink anything. Which is bullshit people. Unfortunately my sleep forever plan was interrupted by me rolling over and looking straight out onto the deck where the fruit trees were watching me.

Accusingly.

And then I had to get up.

So I tore myself out of bed and threw on whatever clothes I could find because it's not like I had showered anyway and then I threw myself outside. After a hasty breakfast Scott, King (the backhoe) and I went out to dig the holes for the trees. Which was the best part of the whole thing really. After spending so much time digging things by hand, watching King dig holes was like watching the hand of god come down. It was all like, BOOM. DONE. It's what I always thought being friends with a dinosaur would be like.

It was everything I dreamed it would be.

Which was probably a good thing, because holy hell the rest of this sucked. There is some sticky, horrible place that involves not getting enough sleep, and of running yourself into the ground without pause that once you get to certain point, nothing short of sleep and food will fix it. And I was at that place.

So out of the nine trees we needed we cursed and fought four of them bitches into the earth. Of course the holes had so much rock we were running out of dirt clay mush to refill them and then we kept having to stop working to do that thing where you zone out and stare out at the horizon for a few minutes because everything is pain.

Although that wasn't too bad because it was the perfect day. Warm and soft and not yet spring but almost, where the breeze is soft and smells no longer of snow and the sun is hot on my back. Where I can look out over the mountains and it seems like the whole world just opens at my feet and keeps going out and out forever and everything is wholesome and good and gentle and open and free and wonderful in every meaning of the word.

Which is pretty much how I got my first sunburn of the season.

Ow.