Chicken & Egg Projects

No, we're not putting in a chicken coop.  Among the many reasons: coyotes, hawks, bobcats and other chicken-thieves (Hungarian literal translation, csirkefogok, a lovely expression which has come to refer to both two- and four-footed scoundrels) are plentiful and we don't need to attract undue attention. This blog title refers to interrelated projects.

Maybe it started when Shari wanted to take out the small, low-raised garden we inherited in the backyard. It's on the north side of the house, so for about half of the year, it's in deep shade. Good for people; not so good for plants. Plus, it adds clutter by the pool and Shari is still dreaming of putting in a pizza oven.

But taking out the garden means finding a place for cinder blocks, bricks, cement rubble and soil. Which brings up the chicken and egg problem. Can't get to one project unless other projects absorb the excess material.

Cinder blocks and rubble make great terraces for a hillside. I'm planting stuff there with the idea of creating additional visual barriers and privacy between us and the three-level house to the west. My track record planting trees and oleander is not great, but hope springs eternal.

I had one line of cinder blocks before. The recycled material forms the lower terrace. Soon I will figure out a way to summon the energy to wheel-barrow more soil, then plant another big tree. Maybe in Spring.

The garden dirt is dark and rich, which is more than can be said about the native desert soil. Plus, if we take out the old raised garden area and make it level, a lot of soil has to be removed. Alas, I cannot use the old raised garden soil because it's destined to be salvaged for the new garden.

The plan is to create a new and better garden on the flat land south of the driveway towards San Simeon. That area in front already has some old cast iron irrigation pipes and sprinklers and loose soil cleared of rocks, so we would not be the first to have a garden there. The priority is to wheel-barrow the garden soil from the backyard to the front.

Trouble is, the low wall curb of the driveway is an effective barrier to a wheel-barrrow. Either I build a funky ramp or I cut out a section to make an entrance for the new garden.

I chose the latter course, and used some of the scavenged bricks to make an inviting entrance. It -- like these other chicken-and-egg projects -- is not finished, but I can get the wheel-barrow through. It's tiring work hauling dirt.

Other scavenged bricks were used to make a platform for my currently favorite outside seating area: a bench overlooking Coat Hanger Valley. That's the gully to the south of the driveway, on the other side from the house, so named because of the coat-hangers, potsherds, broken bottles, wine bungs, wire, and other assorted domestic and construction debris dumped by previous residents. Ah, the cowboy mentality still haunts Arizona.

(More on Coat Hanger Valley in a later post. It's being terraced, planted, path-ed and parked-out to the extent where it will deserve a new name.)

Meanwhile, the old raised garden is still with us as we debate how things should look and be used when it's done, and the new garden is still only a concept as we try to figure out where, how big, and what to use to fence out little scoundrels. As Shari often says and I am learning, the land talks to you.