Crackheads stole my pitchfork
CRACKHEADS STOLE MY PITCHFORK
They took my little red wagon too....it was really more of a garden cart but it was red.
No matter, it's gone now. And more of the tools I use to cultivate the land went with it.
Along with my pitchfork....have you priced pitchforks lately?...they're expensive.
The thief will probably get about a dollar or fifty cents for the tools. But it all adds up when you're jonesing for your next dime rock.
I spent about $5,000 putting up the 6' chain link fence around my field. Added three strands of barbed wire to the top.
Maybe the big fence made them think something really valuable was inside. In a way there was.
I really liked my pitchfork. I need it too.
Once I was at the mall with a good friend of mine, Peggy. I went to Sears and bought an axe and a pitchfork (not this one that was just stolen, but another one. Maybe my first pitchfork?) and also bought a full size long handled axe.
Man you should have seen how people made room for us that day as we roamed the maul...I mean mall.
I bought this piece of land last year as a place to grow my tulips. While in the depths of depression dealing with the ongoing crisis of trying to recover from the sexual abuse in my life, and also undergoing chemotherapy for Hep C, I started a business.
It's called TexasTulips.
We import tulips from Holland and grow them here in Central Texas. (That's the royal "We" by the way. I'm the only tulip farmer here.) It's a lot of hard work. Full of challenges.
The land had never been developed. But it was used as a spot for shade tree mechanics over the decades. While plowing it is common for me to find spark plugs, manifold covers, oil filters and all the detritus of the machine age.
Strange to see the beauty of nature next to the leftover drudge of our modern day dinosaurs.
But I digress...again. Sorry, I'll try to get this out.
My tulip farm is located in a pretty tough neighborhood. The crack epidemic may have subsided but the news hasn't reached here yet.
I live one block over from the acre or so I've claimed as my tulip farm. Gunfire is heard on occasion and lots of thievery takes place.
The loss of a pitchfork and a red wagon is I guess in the end a small price to pay for the satisfaction I get from growing my bulbs.
As usual, with some effort, I can be philosphically comforted.
The tulip farms neighbors are astounded to see the rows of bright colored flowers spreading across the once vacant lot.
I'm reclaiming a part of the world that was left dejected, dumped on, abused. It's slow work, hard at times and requires more tenacity than I can muster sometimes. But I keep at it.
I'm busy now getting the fields ready for the crop which will be planted in the fall. Adding some compost to the soil will help the bulbs to grow taller and prettier.
The organic matter will also help ameliorate the condition of the dirt damaged by the years of compaction and pollution.
I bought the pitch fork specifically to help turn and load the compost. The red cart was to carry and spread it.
When I found the place in the chain link fence that the thieves had cut to gain entrance to the property, my neighbors gathered around with me. Together we mourned the loss of safety and security that the fence had brought. They offered their sympathies and pledged to keep an eye out for any repeat offenders.
I was angry about my pitchfork.
The red wagon made me sad.
I feel the loss.
I found a spading fork that will do for the compost and have improvised using a tarp to spread it.
Crackheads stole my pitchfork.....there's something about the sound of the phrase that embraces the weird, wacky wonder of my recovery from the effects of sexual abuse.
I could explain it, I'm sure. But that would make me even more longwinded than I already am.
So, I'll leave the phrase and the event that spawned it to give its own lessons to you.
Whatever they may be.
I'm going back out to the tulip fields. Try to mend that hole and spread some more compost.
I'm keeping my eye open for the little red cart.
Truly,
They took my little red wagon too....it was really more of a garden cart but it was red.
No matter, it's gone now. And more of the tools I use to cultivate the land went with it.
Along with my pitchfork....have you priced pitchforks lately?...they're expensive.
The thief will probably get about a dollar or fifty cents for the tools. But it all adds up when you're jonesing for your next dime rock.
I spent about $5,000 putting up the 6' chain link fence around my field. Added three strands of barbed wire to the top.
Maybe the big fence made them think something really valuable was inside. In a way there was.
I really liked my pitchfork. I need it too.
Once I was at the mall with a good friend of mine, Peggy. I went to Sears and bought an axe and a pitchfork (not this one that was just stolen, but another one. Maybe my first pitchfork?) and also bought a full size long handled axe.
Man you should have seen how people made room for us that day as we roamed the maul...I mean mall.
I bought this piece of land last year as a place to grow my tulips. While in the depths of depression dealing with the ongoing crisis of trying to recover from the sexual abuse in my life, and also undergoing chemotherapy for Hep C, I started a business.
It's called TexasTulips.
We import tulips from Holland and grow them here in Central Texas. (That's the royal "We" by the way. I'm the only tulip farmer here.) It's a lot of hard work. Full of challenges.
The land had never been developed. But it was used as a spot for shade tree mechanics over the decades. While plowing it is common for me to find spark plugs, manifold covers, oil filters and all the detritus of the machine age.
Strange to see the beauty of nature next to the leftover drudge of our modern day dinosaurs.
But I digress...again. Sorry, I'll try to get this out.
My tulip farm is located in a pretty tough neighborhood. The crack epidemic may have subsided but the news hasn't reached here yet.
I live one block over from the acre or so I've claimed as my tulip farm. Gunfire is heard on occasion and lots of thievery takes place.
The loss of a pitchfork and a red wagon is I guess in the end a small price to pay for the satisfaction I get from growing my bulbs.
As usual, with some effort, I can be philosphically comforted.
The tulip farms neighbors are astounded to see the rows of bright colored flowers spreading across the once vacant lot.
I'm reclaiming a part of the world that was left dejected, dumped on, abused. It's slow work, hard at times and requires more tenacity than I can muster sometimes. But I keep at it.
I'm busy now getting the fields ready for the crop which will be planted in the fall. Adding some compost to the soil will help the bulbs to grow taller and prettier.
The organic matter will also help ameliorate the condition of the dirt damaged by the years of compaction and pollution.
I bought the pitch fork specifically to help turn and load the compost. The red cart was to carry and spread it.
When I found the place in the chain link fence that the thieves had cut to gain entrance to the property, my neighbors gathered around with me. Together we mourned the loss of safety and security that the fence had brought. They offered their sympathies and pledged to keep an eye out for any repeat offenders.
I was angry about my pitchfork.
The red wagon made me sad.
I feel the loss.
I found a spading fork that will do for the compost and have improvised using a tarp to spread it.
Crackheads stole my pitchfork.....there's something about the sound of the phrase that embraces the weird, wacky wonder of my recovery from the effects of sexual abuse.
I could explain it, I'm sure. But that would make me even more longwinded than I already am.
So, I'll leave the phrase and the event that spawned it to give its own lessons to you.
Whatever they may be.
I'm going back out to the tulip fields. Try to mend that hole and spread some more compost.
I'm keeping my eye open for the little red cart.
Truly,
