It’s weird what you remember about your youth, especially when you reach the vaunted accumulation of years that I’ve acquired. Yesterday I had an appointment to drop off the old toilet and sink from the bathroom renovation along with a couple other large items that don’t fit in the weekly trash bags for curb pickup (that’s how Worcester rolls and it’s surprisingly effective). You must make an appointment and pay a fee to drop off these larger items. When I backed the car up and started throwing the stuff over the side, I was hit with those memories (yes, finally getting to the point). Back in the 1960s a weekly event, usually on Saturdays, was taking the accumulated week’s trash to the landfill. It was affectionately referred to as “going to the dump”.
Trust me, I know this sounds weird, but I have some really good memories about these trips. It was usually just my dad and I. That much younger version of myself loved both the time with my dad and seeing how far down the slope I could pitch the trash. My dad usually ran into people he knew and allowed me to do most of the throwing which I relished while he socialized. We always had a station wagon, and we’d load the trash into the back Saturday morning hoping it wouldn’t seep too much that my mother would notice. Going to the dump replaced burning the trash in the backyard, which I have much less fond memories of (especially on really cold winter days). Strange how pitching a toilet over an incline into a downhill dumpster should resurrect memories, but it did.
I’ve written in the past (some would say
eloquently, others excessively) about my Favorite Panamanian’s vast garden
complex. While she tends to it, I am charged with providing the brute force and
ignorance that is occasionally required. I thought my time creating retaining walls
to expand the vast garden complex was over. There simply wasn’t any more space
in our relatively small yard to expand. You know where I’m going with this, don’t
you? I once again underestimated her thirst for additional garden space. An
area next to Deckzilla had featured three huge flowerpots that she had me cut
the bottoms out of, into which she planted flowers each year. The part of the yard
there is kind of boggy so she didn’t trust putting them directly into the
ground. 
The Selected Site
My first inkling of an impending project
was when she didn’t plant anything in the pots this year. I then foolishly
asked her why not. She answered with a question of her own. How difficult would
it be to put in an elevated garden along that side of Deckzilla? My fate was
sealed. Strangely, I almost enjoyed it because there were none of the massive excavations
required of creating the terraces on the backyard hill. It only took me a
couple hours Wednesday evening to get it started and I finished it this morning.
I needed two trips to the Depot to secure the bricks and soil. I am sneakily proud
of how it came out (please don’t tell her that though). God knows where the
next expansion could take place. 
End of Day 1
Project Complete
RECURRING CHARACTERS:
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