I’m in full-tilt work mode when the call comes in. It’s Amy. “Hon (I always brace myself when sentences start this way), I just got a nervous call from [another friend]. They said they had taken an offer for a pile of free mulch, but ended up with umm… way too much. I said we needed some, so they brought over the leftovers in a big truck. It’s in our driveway.” “Nice work!” I responded. We did need a bunch of mulch for some upcoming projects. “Yeah, but it’s, um, a really BIG pile of mulch.” “That’s OK, we’ll use it, don’t worry, gotta run.”
Roll in on the bike as the sun is starting to go orange. Car’s not in the driveway. Because the driveway is full of mulch. As in, FULL of mulch. Shredded redwood fibers, smelled delicous. Miles happy to see daddy. And, being a boy myself, I of course knew he’d be dying to play on the pile.
Guess this means our weekend is booked.