But no, the hole is the unearthed septic tank waiting to be pumped. Chris, who hooked us up to the sewer in stage three of the Los Osos sewer hook-up project told my one and only that Al, with the red pumping truck, is busy right now, but eventually he will pump us, and then Chris will return and fill the tank with dirt. He said he studied making gardens at Cal Poly and will gladly make us one, but not now; we will have to wait for him to hook up many sewers. Chris, his little yellow back hoe, and Mike.
Meanwhile, my one and only is practicing patience and gratitude. Out the front window are dirt and weeds we needn’t pull, so my one and only is happy in the backyard as often as possible. And though she loves what it looks like, she is not going to be as impulsive about beautifying the front yard as she was about having a beautiful backyard. She has vowed to wait for Chris to finish his sewer hook ups and promised him our garden. Maybe by January, the front yard can become a combination of drought resistant plants, stones, and wood – a front yard where I can romp about. Maybe a fence as well.
Despite our patience, while riding through town my one and only spied a sign “Succulents for Sale. She picked five big sticklers to be planted when the time comes. We were right to select drought resistant plants, because water usage is a big issue in this community. A week or so ago, my one and only was wondering if our water bill wasn’t high. Turns out she was on to something. The water lady called to say that one person should be using four units only. (Dogs don’t get any units.) She and I were up to 12 units on the last billing. Is she filling my water bowl too often? Or was it planting the garden and adding more water-drizzle hoses throughout that new garden?
My one and only says rural living is more complicated than being in a studio on the 14th floor of the Grand in Oakland. Of course, I am glad to be closer to the actual ground. Here I have weedy vacant lots to traipse through and the run of the El Moro trail, just one house away. Before daylight, I ride from Starbucks to the estuary and walk the boardwalk and the grounds of the Baywood Inn. My life has improved because the dog doctor sold us a pill good for three months of no fleas or ticks, making it is painless for me to romp in the brush. And by December, when the pill doesn’t work any more, fleas will be cold and leave dogs alone. And then it will be January, time for the new garden and another pill.