The Big Dig

BEFORE

AFTER

I have a confession.  My blog is not, at this point, in real time.  In fact, I am really months behind in my writing in comparison to where I am in this reconstruction process.  However, once I started digging out all the dirt that needed to remove in order to expose the full foundation of the garage, I have gotten the opportunity to get caught up to present time.  In fact, this blog entry could simply be this: “… and then I began to dig.  And I dug and dug and dug and dug and dug and I dug and I dug some more”.  I knew I had to move a lot of dirt.  I knew it was going to take some time.  I didn’t realize just how much.   Just take a look at this pile!

I actually started digging the weekend of Thanksgiving.  I would head out after work and limit myself to an hour of digging or until the sun went down.  On the weekends I would dedicate even more time.  I became pretty obsessed.  I thought I would breeze though it, but one never knows what they will find under the ground and I encountered many obstacles as I dug.  And, like a tired stubborn toddler who refuses to leave the park when you’re in a hurry to get home, these obstacles greatly slowed my progress.   Rocks, concrete rubble, bricks, latex balls…you name it, I probably found it buried in my yard.  The latex ball really blew me away.  It was huge!  I originally pulled it out when I planted a tree in my back yard.  I picked the place to put it, started digging and eventually began chipping out some psychedelic multi-colored rock.  I dug around it and pulled out a large boulder of dried latex paint!  It seems one of the former owners decided the best way to get rid of their old paint was to dig a huge hole and pour it in, let it dry and bury it.  When I pulled it out it left a big enough hole to fit the entire root ball of the tree I planted.  It didn’t seem to contaminate the soil as the tree is doing well after two years.  I have come to the conclusion that many years ago, when my neighborhood was a farmer’s orchard, the spot that is now my yard is where the old farmer dumped his trash.  The dig at times became like an archaeological site as I sifted through the soil with my homemade sifter.  I will have to dedicate an entry to the incredible items I pulled out of the ground and out of the walls of the garage.  Each piece sparking the depths of my imaginations as they whispered their stories to me.  Where they came from, what there life was like and how they ended up in the ground around my garage.   I found some old coins and tokens that must have fallen out of the pocket of who ever built this garage.  I found pieces of silverware, a broken mug, little bottles, large nails and spikes, pieces to an old stove, an ax head, a bullet casing and the bones to what, I do not know.  Maybe I don’t want to know.  Things that kept me guessing, wondering and daydreaming for hours.

Rocks that made up the foundation

What the hell does this go to??

All came from under my garage

However, most of the things I unearthed were more an exhausting challenge than a delightful treasure.  As my shovel banged off of one rock after another I would think back to drives I would take through the Wisconsin country side where one runs across lovely rustic fieldstone wall that travel on for miles.  Not because the farmers of the past thought to themselves “I think I’ll build a lovely rustic wall of fieldstone”.  No, it was more like “Good God, another damn rock I gotta get out of the way!” as he tried to plow the virgin landscape.  I built a similar wall along the back edge of my alley. 

The experience made me ponder and greatly appreciate what those early pioneers must have gone through to open up the square miles of land we have for farming today.  Especially if it was completely forested upon their arrival.  I can’t imagine that the first settler even saw a substantial amount of cleared land before they passed on.  I imagine it took two or three generations to clear some of this land.  Cutting trees, building a house and barn, clearing stumps (some the size of houses) removing rocks and boulders, cutting away roots. That’s what really slowed me down.  Roots spreading from plants I don’t even know where they were standing.  

THE ROCK!

Then there was the monster rock that after much digging and prying, I decided it would stay where it chose as its final resting place.  Well, rest in peace my dear rock.  You shall be not only the anchor of this foundation, but a mentor to my life’s endeavors.  Though you will be underground, the images of the struggles you put me through and the lessons of accepting that some things need not change, shall forever be in the forefront of my memories each time I enter this structure.  

Look at what's left of that foundation

NOW WHAT?