This will be lovely

Really it will.

But somehow in the last week, our dirt has become dirtier, our dust has become dustier.  

Rocks that were unearthed long ago when big machines cleared our land, rocks that were plopped into unattractive piles on top of our hill, have been moved once again, hopefully to be put to better use.

Trenches are being dug hither and yon

and the big pile of dirt and weeds that was shaved off the top of our front yard

has become a veritable mountain.  My children are filthy.  The dogs are almost unrecognizable.  The chickens come up every evening for a dust bath.

And as if we weren't already swimming in dirt,  new dirt has started to arrive.

A few plants are in holding in the courtyard, next to, of course, another pile of dirt, which is, of course, next to another hole.

It's been an interesting process, watching someone else work in our yard.  I feel conflicting emotions of guilt that such nice people are toiling and sweating on my property,
 and happiness that in this heatwave, it's not me.  

Our children love the landscapers and the little ones fall all over each other to deliver them cold smoothies or glasses of raspberry lemonade.  Demolition has been so exciting, I can only imagine their joy when things actually start to look better.

In the meantime, since someone else is doing the yard work, I made a new throw pillow for the porch swing.  Nothing fancy, but it's not brown and it doesn't smell of dirt.