Going green isn't easy..

.. And here we don't intend to repeat a clichéd truism about having to change one's lifestyle to go green etc. We mean in a more literal sense. Unless we start at the beginning, you might pity us, assuming our incomprehensibility for being rooted in derangement.

A few months ago, a small-ish patch of dirt lured, then enchanted us; and in short order it proceeded swiftly to acquire and enslave us. It demanded a dwelling - since built, some fauna as inhabitants (us, in this case) and finally ... flora. The complexity that lay hidden in that one word has been revealing itself to us at a sadistically deliberate pace.

At first, our newly appointed lord and master - the aforementioned patch of dirt, wanted simply a verdant cover - an innocuous enough request, which soon entailed watering schedules, regular clipping and general fretting over. Then the demand was expanded to include an assortment of shrubs, plants - some flowering and others not.
Finally we were informed of the need for some trees as well!
So, last Saturday, we found ourselves faced with a couple of different kinds of Maple trees - toddler versions really - sitting diffidently in their cribs - 25 gallon plastic buckets, having been dropped off by the friendly folks of our nursery. Like any self-absorbed youngsters, they impatiently awaited a transplant into their permanent home on our piece of Terra-Firma.
Naturally, we noted no feeling of gratitude on their part, for being offered a home, and in fact their whole demeanor seemed to suggest that they were the ones being generous and gracious in deigning to let us serve them.
My better half is still holding on to the rather fanciful notion that it is in fact she who owns the patch (the reverse is true) and decides what goes upon it. I had resigned to my fate long ago. She walked along the perimeter and suggested a spot for tree-tot 1 who goes by the long-winded name of 'Autumn Blaze Maple' but in reality looks like a bunch of sticks in dirt. Just to look useful, I suggested a different spot a couple feet away. In a moment of generosity she acceded.

It seems simple enough right? You dig a hole, plonk the tree down in it, cover up with dirt and sit down with a cool beer in its shade. Well, not much shade right now for that last bit, but ... you get the picture. As Entrepreneurial types like to babble on about the long journey from Ideation to collaboration to execution and then onto something else that eludes me, let's just say things didn't work out quite so simply.

With much fanfare, we cut off the sod and started shoveling the dirt out of the hole we just knew was there (in the famous words of Dennis the menace :-). 3 inches in, we hit the first rock which was squatting obstinately. We asked it politely to come out, but it told us in stone - "No thank you!". With much coaxing by two shovels and a sledge-hammer it finally emerged. But underneath it, there seemed to be a rock concert going on in the hole attended by rocks of all shapes and sizes. A friendly neighbor and his son joined us in ridding the hole of these squatters and we all heaved and sweated all afternoon, nourished periodically by a few chilled beers and some crackers.
At one point, me and my contemporary - the 8 yr old kid of our neighbor - were discussing the possibility of using TNT to coax those recalcitrant rocks out. Luckily it didn't come to that, but the idea was fun :-)

By the end of the day the two tree-tots were in the ground and settling in. In the gentle breeze they seemed to be cozy in their new digs, but to us, they kept up a steady stream of new demands -
"Go on then, get us some fertilizer now"
"Are we in the neighborhood of the Sahara?! Well where's the water then?"

All their needs met, they just wanted to be left to themselves, and we obliged with alacrity. Word is, the patch has appointed those two as custodians or wardens to keep an eye over us.