Sunday, March 12, 2006

Mulch Festival

Well we are coming up on spring in my town and that can only mean one thing: mulch.

Soon the snows of winter will recede and the air will be filled with the smell of bark, cocoa and licorice as local garden supply stores deliver the stuff in dump trucks one might normally see in strip mine. The men in the neighborhood will then circle the massive pile in the cul-de-sac with their wheel barrows and take their portion back to their cookie-cutter azalea gardens.

ItÂ’s the closest thing my suburban world has to a harvest.

Now most small villages have a celebration around the harvest and IÂ’m thinking we should do the same with mulch.

We should embrace it, celebrate it.

Celebrate it with a festival, a mulch festival.

There should be a parade. A mulch parade, with floats dedicated to the various kinds of mulch: the joys of Red Cedar mulch, a tribute to bark mulch and of course a paper Mache homage to our woodland friend the squirrel.

There could be teams oprecisionon wheel barrowers, each performing choreographed routines to the delight of the crowd with their garden carts filled with mulch and drill teams with 4 inch straight edge shovels, 6 inch spaded shovels and bow rakes. Rows and rows of long handled tools twirling in the air.

Of course their would be a mulch pageant held earlier in “mulch week” where a mulch queen would be selected and she would stand on a mulch festooned float and wave proudly to the crowd. What an honor, to have your daughter chosen as the mulch queen. Then the highlight of the day would be the arrival of father mulch the mythical deliverer of mulch. Dressed in brown from head to toe, father mulch would throw candies out to the kiddies and have samples of the finest mulches known to man.

Later we could all go get minivan tatoos.

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