In the trenches today

Actually, we stood over the trenches and shoveled, raked, swept, kicked, claw-handed dirt into the trenches.  This is our way of taking part in the work of building our house.  Sid dug trenches for the water lines and laid and glued pipe.  He probably could have covered them up himself in about an hour.  But where is the fun in that?

So the last 2 days, the kids and I have spent several hours at the housesite laboring in the dirt.  We even sweated.  Other than the blister on my hands, it has been kind of fun.  I wish I had brought the camera to capture the images of my little troopers hard at work. 

Rachel was determined to get in on the action.  I found a smaller shovel for her and gave her a section of trench to fill.  She worked steadily for a half hour or so, until I heard her sing-songy voice call, “Mamaaaa!”  I straightened up from my own section of trench to see her posing proudly beside her trench, one hand holding her shovel upright with it’s blade on the ground, much like a queenly scepter, her other hand cocked on her hip.  “All Donnnne!” she sang.  And she was right.  That was one well-filled trench.  I did not have to go back over her work.

Lincoln declared Rachel to be the hardest-working member of our family.  But, he amended, “I have the hardest job.”  Since he was using a hammer to knock dirt into the trench, I had to agree with him.

We’re not quite finished with our trench yet, but almost.  I’m sure you will understand when I say we gave up and went home after Rachel whacked Prairie in the head with her shovel, Lincoln’s sandaled-toes found themselves under Rachel’s thrown shovel, Prairie found and licked some weird (and I’m sure toxic) substance off her finger and Rachel’s screeches broke the peace of our wooded hill when she got stung by something waspy-looking.

It was time for lunch anyway.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.