Lets get them hands dirty!

Mido · 03-22-2012, 09:44 PM

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Word Count :: 441 Points:: 3 grab your pitches and get your hoes!

He laid there in his bed staring at the dark ceiling. It was early morning, and all the male could hear in the caves halls was nothing, it sounded like no one had been alive or active yet. Getting up he left his den and exited the cave system. Looking about outside, he noted where the sun sat in the sky, thinking that it hadn’t been out too long. Only morning and it was already warming up quickly, he could only imagine that it was going to be hot one. He made his way to the village where the garden would be. Standing at the edge of the land he scanned the surrounding area, taking it all in.

There is so much work that needs to be done here. Where does one even start? Looking at the bare land he thought about the Angelo’s words during the last meeting. He didn’t know a single thing about gardening. He might have read something about agriculture in the past, but he had zero hands on experience. Though the Dasa’s lack of know-how didn’t bother him too much, concerning effort and work, he would put in plenty of both. Anything to help… and whatever it takes. In the back of his mind he knew he wouldn’t be the only canine doing the work around here.

There was much tree debris littered over the plot of land. What stood out to the half and half was what he saw as the perimeter. Before anything really was started they should probably make the garden some sort of enclosure to really define it. That would entail making a fence of sorts, gazing at the woods edge he figured he could find great sticks and branches for makeshift fence posts or something. Once into the forest, Mido began to pick up good sized pieces of tree limbs and branches. Having loaded his arms as full as he physically could without dropping them all, he went back to the sometime to be garden. Removing his arms from beneath the load of wood he let it all come crashing to the ground. Putting his hands on his hips he huffed and tilted his head to the sky. My fur isn’t cut out for hot weather! He couldn’t help but think how he hadn’t even shed his winter coat yet. He didn’t understand why he was wearing pants; it was hot and bound to get hotter. Angry that he didn’t have shorts or something he kneeled to ground to roll up his pant legs. He wondered how many armfuls he would need to get to go around the plot of land.

Image courtesy of UmbraDeNoapte-Stock

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