Green Update: New Kinds of Adventures

This month marks 4 years that I have officially been a resident of the south, though I had been in Virginia for four years prior for college. I thought by now I had experienced all of the main southern things. I have drank sweet tea, been to a “pig pickin'”, purchased and used straw, made small talk with grocery clerks, and even got to be on a first name basis with the bank teller in our town.
Well, friends, I was wrong. I had another southern/country adventure to be had.
As I have shared before, I am growing rhubarb for my husband. The man loves the stuff. Really, it’s almost awkward. But I love him, so I grow it. My rhubarb experts (consequently my grandparents-in-law) advised me to use some cow or sheep manure on my rhubarb plant to keep it from getting “leggy” as they call it.
Now, I am no stranger to poop. I deal with all kinds of poop on a regular basis, but usually I am trying to get rid of it, not acquire it.
Since getting manure was new for me, I put my feelers out on Facebook, asking people where I could get some cow or sheep manure.
I got all sorts of responses, from suggestions to use other animal manure, to friends letting me know where they get their particular garden poop.
I decided to take a friend up on her offer of manure from her own calf.
The story goes as follows:
It was New Years and her and her husband nearly ran a calf off the road in a nearby county. Consequently, said calf was no more than a week old, as he still had his umbilical cord hanging on. Clyde, as he is known now, has been a part of their family now for over three months. He hangs out in their yard with their chickens, and occasionally their two dogs. If I had a cow, I would want him to be like Clyde; dude is the sweetest, most calm animal I have ever seen.
But of course, my visit to see my friend was not for the purpose of acquainting myself with her cow, but rather to gather his waste.
I brought my trashcan along with me, since Beard and I have yet to give in and own a pick-up truck. My friend lent me a shovel.
And there I was, friends. Shoveled cowpies into my outdoor garbage can, to put in the back of my hatchback, drive home, and put in my garden.
This is an experience I could not have enjoyed in my hometown in New Jersey. I’m not sure most people in that town have ever actually seen a cow that close up, let alone his poop.
But I, yes this little Jersey girl, collected manure and brought it home.
Mission: Accomplished.

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