How Do You Move a Mountain? Apparently, One Gorilla Cart at a Time.

Meanwhile, at The Situation… 😂

I woke up this morning, and Mr. Caldwell was already outside.

Now, if you’ve been sitting on this Front Porch with me for any amount of time, you already know that sentence rarely ends with anything normal.

I looked outside, and there he was.

Moving the mulch.

By hand.

Let me make sure you understand what we’re talking about here.

This is not a couple bags of mulch from the garden center.

This is a MOUNTAIN of mulch.

A whole ChipDrop.

And apparently sometime between waking up this morning and me realizing what was happening, Jordan looked at that mountain and decided:

Yeah. I can move that.

With what, you ask?

A pitchfork.

A Gorilla Cart.

And the kind of unreasonable determination that can only belong to Mr. Caldwell.

😂😂😂

I watched this man load that little cart, haul it where it needed to go, dump it, come back, and start all over again.

Load.

Haul.

Dump.

Repeat.

Meanwhile, the mountain is sitting there looking like:

Sir. Be serious.

But Jordan?

Completely unbothered.

Because apparently the answer to “How do you move a mountain?” is:

One Gorilla Cart at a time.

And this, Loves, is what I mean when I tell you that 1737 Urban Homestead is not simply a homestead.

It is The Situation.

There is always something happening over here.

A chicken has escaped.

A chicken has mysteriously appeared.

Something in the garden has gone completely feral.

There are vegetables in somebody’s pockets.

There’s an egg somewhere; an egg has absolutely no business being.

Jordan has started another project.

Samson is supervising.

And I’m usually standing somewhere nearby with my phone in my hand, trying to document the foolishness so I can come tell y’all about it.

Cultivating Community. Harvesting Home. Managing The Situation.

😂

But this morning, standing there watching Jordan move that mulch, the funny part started giving way to something else.

Because this man really does work hard.

Not just on this pile of mulch.

Not just in this garden.

Not just for 1737.

For us.

For our home.

For our family.

For this crazy, beautiful life we’ve built together.

There are so many things around here that exist because Jordan saw something that needed to be done and simply started doing it.

No announcement.

No fanfare.

No need for anybody to tell him what a wonderful thing he’s doing.

He just shows up.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And I joke about him all the time—and Lord knows that man gives me PLENTY of material. 😂

He is crazy.

He is funny.

He will absolutely have me looking at him, wondering why on God’s green earth would you do it THAT way?

But he is also the unshakable piece that holds so much of this together.

When things get heavy, he carries.

When something needs building, he builds.

When something needs growing, he plants.

When something needs fixing, he figures it out.

And apparently, when there’s a mountain standing in front of him…

he starts moving it.

One cart at a time.

Maybe that’s why watching him this morning touched me more than I expected.

Because I wasn’t really looking at a man moving mulch.

I was looking at the man who has spent years moving mountains for his family.

And yep…

That’s my man.

Crazy and all.

And I love him for every bit of it. ❤️

Because sometimes love looks like flowers.

Sometimes it looks like grand gestures.

And sometimes love looks like somebody outside at 8 in the morning, covered in sweat, moving a mountain of mulch one Gorilla Cart at a time.

❤️

Meanwhile, at The Situation…