Sometimes Progress Gets Dumped in Your Yard by the Truckload

There are some days on a homestead when progress looks beautiful.

A basket full of vegetables.

A handful of fresh eggs.

A fig tree loaded with fruit.

A garden bed finally coming together exactly the way you pictured it.

And then there are days when progress pulls up in a big truck and gets dumped in your yard.

Literally.

Our ChipDrop came.

And when I tell y’all they brought us some mulch…

THEY BROUGHT US SOME MULCH.

Not a cute little pile.

Not a few bags we could casually move around after dinner.

No.

We got the kind of pile that makes you stand there, stare at it for a minute, and reconsider every decision that led you to this exact moment.

Because apparently when you tell ChipDrop, “Yes, we would like some wood chips,” they hear:

“Please give us a new geographical feature.”

And honestly?

We were thrilled. 😂

Why All This Mulch Matters

As ridiculous as that giant pile looked sitting there, it was exactly what we needed.

Mulch is one of those things around here that doesn’t necessarily get the attention that the vegetables, fruit trees, chickens, and harvests get, but it quietly does a whole lot of work.

It helps us hold moisture in the soil, something that matters tremendously through our Louisiana heat.

It helps suppress weeds.

It gives us material for pathways and areas around the homestead.

It protects the soil underneath it.

And as those wood chips slowly break down, they become part of what we’re trying to build in the first place:

Good Soil.

That’s one of the lessons this homestead keeps teaching us.

You don’t just grow plants.

You grow soil.

You protect it. Feed it. Cover it. Add organic matter back to it. Give all those little organisms underneath your feet something to work with.

And eventually, that soil gives back to you.

But First… Somebody Has to Move It

Now, all of that sounds beautiful and educational.

Let me tell y’all the less poetic part.

That mulch was not going to move itself.

😂

There was no magical homestead fairy coming overnight to spread it neatly around the property.

There was a shovel.

There was a Gorilla Cart.

There was Jordan.

There was me.

And there was an absolutely disrespectful amount of mulch.

Load by load.

Shovel by shovel.

Trip by trip.

We started moving that mountain.

And somewhere between “Look at all this free mulch!” and “How is there STILL this much mulch left?” I remembered something about this life we’ve chosen.

This Is Part of the Harvest Too

We show you a lot of what comes out of the garden.

But we also want The Front Porch to show you what goes into it.

Because the harvest doesn’t begin when you pick the tomato.

It begins long before that.

It begins with soil.

Compost.

Seeds.

Water.

Mulch.

Sweat.

Learning.

Trying something that doesn’t work.

Trying again.

And sometimes standing in front of an enormous pile of wood chips, wondering exactly how many Gorilla Cart loads are between you and the bottom of it. 😂

This is homesteading too.

It isn’t always picturesque.

Sometimes it’s dirty.

Sometimes it’s heavy.

Sometimes it’s repetitive.

Sometimes your back has several opinions about the choices you’ve made.

But then you look around.

A pathway is covered.

A bed is protected.

The soil isn’t sitting bare under that Louisiana sun.

Another little section of this place is better than it was yesterday.

And suddenly that ridiculous pile starts looking a whole lot different.

It looks like possibility.

Sometimes Progress Looks Like a Pile

That’s probably one of my favorite things about what 1737 has become.

We’re learning to recognize progress before it becomes pretty.

Before the harvest.

Before the finished garden bed.

Before somebody comes through the gate and says, “Oh, this is beautiful.”

We remember what it looked like while we were building it.

Sometimes progress is a seed tray.

Sometimes it’s compost.

Sometimes it’s lumber waiting to become something.

Sometimes it’s dirt under your fingernails and sweat running down your back.

And sometimes…

progress gets dumped in your yard by the truckload.

So thank you, ChipDrop, for the mountain. 😂

We’ll take it from here.

Cultivating community… Harvesting home.

— From The Front Porch at 1737 Urban Homestead