We’ve gotten it in our heads that our next experiment is going to be growing pumpkins and gourds.
Hell, we already have a fairly rich stock of seeds, with more arriving every week thanks to my job. The downside to this is that much of that seed stock was buried in the muckheap of our compost pile. Our compost heap is filled with rotty pumpkins and gourds and fruits and shit, which gives it the unfortunate distinction of smelling like the runny tequila shits that spew forth from Satan’s bunghole the morning after a night of too many margaritas.
This morning, I suited up in some clothes I won’t cry over (much) if I have to burn them to rid them of the scent of Satan’s shithole and waded in. I wish I had gotten some pictures, but there’s no fucking way I’m risking dropping my phone or tablet in Satan’s tequila shits, so you’ll just have to use your imagination to get an image of me knee deep in rotty pumpkin juice and elbow deep in a giant pumpkin collecting the seeds.
While I was in there, smelling the insides of Satan’s colon, I took the opportunity to stabilize the fence panels that keep scavengers (mostly) out of our compost and condense the pile as much as I could with half a shovel and a hip injury that will never fully heal.
Of course, the minute I got done with all of that and closed the newly stabilized fence, Mr B came driving up on his big orange dirt mover machine (I mean tractor with bucket on it). I wasn’t turning down free tractor time just because I was calling myself done with the compost heap, and I opened it back up and let him smoosh and turn the pile. Some of the rotty pumpkins kept rolling away from his tractor bucket, so I had him back out for a minute while I jumped in and tossed them back on the pile to get smooshed. With no gloves on. Which would have been okay except for the damned maggot I felt crawling on my hand after I stepped back to safety.
Mr B got a good whiff of Satan’s morning-after tequila shits and filled his tractor bucket with some spare cellulose left over after his last E.P.I.C. experiment. He was on to something- -part of the aroma wafting forth from that muck hole was rotty pumpkins (which nothing can fix), but part of it was from having too much greens and not enough browns in the heap.
I still haven’t finished collecting all of the seeds. There are some gourds and mini pumpkins that I still need to split open and clean out. I’ll be damned if I was doing that without coming inside to get something to drink and whine to you guys about how awful I fucking smell right now. Besides, I need to do some quick research on how to properly prep these seeds to be stored until next spring.
Someone please send an emergency care package from Bath & Body Works, mmmkay?