Dr. Shades wrote:William Schryver wrote:There ain’t nothin’ like runnin’ the controls to a powerful front loader and using it to artfully and skillfully dump horse manure in your garden and on your pastures. It gives me goosebumps just thinking about it . . . ;-)
If I ever get goosebumps over the prospect of dumping horse manure, will somebody please shoot me?
Simple pleasures, Shades, simple pleasures . . .
There's gotta be somebody else on this board who can relate. It's the same kind of thing that hobby gardeners feel when they squeeze warm fertile soil through their fingers in late April. It's what Steven Stills was singing about:
Woodstock
Well I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him tell where are you going
This he told me:
Said "I am going down to Yasgur's farm
Going to join in a rock and roll band
Got to get back to the land to set my soul free"
We are stardust, we are golden
We are billion year old carbon
And we got to get ourselves back to the garden
Well then can I walk beside you
I have come to lose the smog
And I feel like I'm a cog in something turning
And maybe it's the time of year
Yes and maybe it's the time of man
And I don't know who I am
But life is for learning
We are stardust, we are golden
We are billion year old carbon
And we got to get ourselves back to the garden
By the time we got to Woodstock
We were half a million strong
And everywhere was a song and a celebration
And I dreamed I saw the bomber jet planes
Riding shotgun in the sky
Turning into butterflies
Above our nation
We are stardust, we are golden
We are caught in the devil's bargain
And we got to get ourselves back to the garden
But Metcalfe and I are probably the only ones old enough to have been around back then, let alone understand . . .