Going Batty

It was a simple project.  Or so I thought.  I've always wanted a yard pool...with a few waterlilies, some waterweeds, maybe some goldfish.  I know it's probably a sappy idea, but it seemed nice at the time I got this pond back in 2004, I believe.  It was part of the monetary rewards for being a top seller with The Pampered Chef.  Unfortunately, though, it has sat, upside down these past seven years--a black lump to mow around, off in the corner beside the house, amidst the lilacs and currant bushes.  This year I kept looking at it and thinking I needed either to try to sell it or install it.  I know this was a batty idea, but--fools rush in--I chose the latter. 

Now, I usually pride myself on being able to handle things.  Especially projects that I invent.  So, I wasn't at all timid about launching into my pond project, confident I could concoct this little spot of beauty quite handily, all by myself. 

There was a large convenient depression right beside the ash tree, just off the porch, which I deemed a perfect spot.  So, I moved a few things around--rocks, ivy, and honeysuckle vines, shoved the pond into place, and proceeded to fill it.  Only to discover--once it was completely full--that is was not level. 

The longer it sat there, the "un-leveler" it got;  it sagged and water began to pour over the eastern edge.  It looked distinctly askew and growing more so the longer it sat there.  I feared that it would take a permanent set or warp or tear.

In the midst of my contemplating just how I was going to empty 90 gallons of water quickly, guess who/what arrived on the scene. Male authority.  Suffice it to say that my independent posture wilted rather quickly (by now it was beginning to look like the pond might develop a permanent dent due to my having perched it upon a sharp rock so I was already re-thinking my independence.)   

"Would you like some help?" (and do you really think I would answer, "Nah!  I'm fine...")?

In the course of fifteen minutes "my" project took on distinctly masculine overtones.  The landscape was immediately littered with tools I never even knew we had.  (I did know about the level...)  It was actually rather humiliating as now I could only watch as the perpiration beaded up and rolled down MM's cheeks. "My project" had turned into "his" project...as there wasn't room for two in the little space...which was quickly growing into a bigger space... 

And so, the project has now become vast, and has evolved into such things as the removal of an upper-arm sized root, with much hacking and thwacking; and the pulverization of two wrist-sized roots, lots of grunting and sweating; and much digging through the tangle of dead ivy..and I think I am regretting...well..... that I didn't opt to sell the pond.

BTW, as we were heaving the pond over on its side to empty the last of the 90 gallons, this little guy showed himself.  Apparently he had been camping beneath the edge of the pool and was on the underside of it on a board. 

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