So, a few of my sprinklers in the yard needed to be replaced. After several years, the pop-ups no longer wanted to pop up. I finally made the trip to the store, purchased some new ones, and returned home to start digging. And digging. Okay, it wasn’t THAT much digging. The holes were small—about 6 inches wide and maybe a foot deep. Even with six of them to do, the job didn’t take long.
Rather than do them one at a time, I opted to dig all the holes, replace the sprinklers, and then put the dirt back. That seemed to be the most efficient approach. But, it also led to a problem.
There’s this weird phenomenon that occurs when digging holes and then filling them back in; there’s never quite enough dirt it seems. (Perhaps because I pack it harder than it was originally, I doubt any of the dirt actually disappears). Now, with a small hole, this would hardly be noticeable. But with six holes, the small discrepancy of each starts to add up.
I had put all the dirt in a bucket and filled each hole out of my stockpile. That worked fine until I came to the last hole. The bucket ran out of dirt before the hole was filled.
Great, I thought, not wanting to walk the measly few feet to rob the garden area of such a piddly amount of dirt. Not that I’m lazy or anything! In my defense, the temperature was over 100 degrees and digging holes wasn’t all I’d done that day.
If I just had a little more dirt, I wouldn’t have to worry about it. Figuring that was no more than wishful thinking, I started to get up and head toward the garden. Just then, a sizeable dirt clod fell to the ground right beside me. By “sizeable,” I mean, as big as a softball. And by “fell to the ground,” I mean, literally dropped out of the sky.
“Well, that was simple,” I mumbled to myself as I reached for the dirt clod. I crumbled it between my fingers and spread it around the sprinkler head; I was quite pleased to see it was exactly enough dirt to fill the hole.
So, where did the dirt clod come from? I hear you ask. Well, I guess I could say that God heard my prayer and dropped the answer right in my lap, but it hadn’t really been a prayer, so that may be misleading. But what other explanation could there be? It’s not like anyone was excavating in the stratosphere directly over my house! And even though one of Earth’s elements, water, occasionally falls from the sky, I seriously doubt the same can be said for dirt.
And again, I hear you asking, “So, where did it come from?” Okay, okay. I’ll tell you, as I did discover its origin. Actually, the moment the clump of dirt landed in the grass, I had a pretty good idea. A peek through a crack in the fence confirmed my suspicion.
The neighbor’s grandson was visiting again. He likes to throw toys, rocks, and apparently now, dirt clods over the fence into my yard. I know, hearing how it happened takes away some of the suspense and intrigue. Still, it was rather amazing to have the right amount of dirt fall at just the right time, right out of the sky—mere moments after I’d wished it! Awesome really.
Next, I think I shall wish for a million dollars! ~
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.