by Leslie Cox; Wednesday, August 7, 2013

“Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong”…especially when you are on a schedule and you are trying to get a big job completed. And yup, you know it. Murphy hit us right between the eyes. More than once, in fact.

It was my bright idea we should rev up our new-to-us used chipper/shredder (your first clue) and tackle our large pile of garden debris to be shredded down for the compost bin. We had started this chore back in May with our other, second-hand chipper but Murphy showed up instead. The machine gave up the ghost on us right when we needed it the most. Non-repairable.

Luckily our friend’s brother was willing to give up his in our price range. Bonus was the bigger motor…although still a Tecumseh…and an electric starter. (John is a Briggs and Stratton man.)

Having to coordinate the necessary arrangements for the use of our family-shared trailer and everyone’s work schedules in order to make the trip to Victoria…well let’s just say, by the time we managed to get our “new” acquisition situated in our own backyard, new spark plug installed, battery charged up, oil checked and gas fill-up…more than a few days of rain had occurred in the meantime. Murphy #2.

Ever tried to run soggy garden debris through a chipper/shredder? Doesn’t work too well. Masses of stems and leaves tend to clog up the works and no amount of tamping dislodges the mass. Ergo, we did not get very far on whittling the pile down before admitting defeat and throwing a tarp over the “new” machine in the hopes the weather would clear shortly and dry out our debris pile.

Ha! June was a right-off with the 149 mm (6 inches) of rain. Great for the garden though. Plants were really happy. And a good thing we had all that rain because July’s tally was a measly 1 mm…hardly worth noting at all. But July was great for that debris pile. Finally dry enough to work with and hence my suggestion to “get on with our chore” before the rains came again.

Me and my bright ideas! It was 34 °C (93 °F) and here we were dressed in jeans, long-sleeved shirts and boots. Thankfully we were under the Crimson King maple tree but there was not a breath of breeze so it was still stifling. Add flying bits of compost debris to the mix and I had to go and get my bandana to tie over my nose and mouth just so I could breathe.

But we made good progress for an hour or better before the chipper/shredder started to sputter and finally stopped altogether. Out comes the gas can for a refill. Thought it a bit strange as there was still gas in the reservoir but oh well.

Turns out it wasn’t the gas tank. Maybe it was over-heating…like us. So John checked the air filter while I made us some lunch. That should give the machine a chance to cool down a little and us too.

Nope. Still wouldn’t start. Not even with the pulley. Dang Murphy! What was that – #3 now? I just wanted to get this job over and done with and into some cooler clothes with a cold one in my hand. At this point sweat was literally dripping off me. (If there was to be any positive out of this whole exercise, I was thinking, it would be that I could maybe sweat off at least 2 lbs by the end of the day.)

SOS call to our friend, the mechanical wizard. Lucky for us he is always so obliging…and he makes house calls but then he lives just 5 houses away. Out came the tools and things started coming apart. Turns out the problem was in the carburetor.

All put back together, we fired the machine up again and picked up where we had left off. Lost track of time but we had made in-roads on reducing the debris pile and created a substantial chipped pile by dinnertime. It was going to take another day to finish the job.

Boy, were we filthy! Neither of us were allowed in the house until we had taken a whisk brush to each other, shaken out our hair and emptied our boots. Showers were the first order of business and was I ever thankful we had planned easy leftovers for dinner as I was too pooped…and too hot…to even think about standing in front of the stove to cook.

Next morning…dressed to kill once again in our working-on-the-compost clothes…we started off filling up Bin #1 with what we had managed to get processed the day before. Built it up in layers…layer of shredded garden debris, layer of seaweed (harvested seaweed we had brought home that needed to be composted before going into the garden because of all the weed seeds in it from the shoreline plants – lesson to be learned here) and then a sprinkle of finished compost. Between each layer John wet down the pile thoroughly.

With yesterday’s labours all moved into Bin #1, we were ready to shred more of the debris pile. Thankfully, the machine started up nicely…as it should have…with only a little bit of coaxing.

However, we were not into our rhythm too long before I noticed John was behaving like he was more than just a little sore. Having to pantomime to one another over the roar of the machine, John insisted he was okay. Allowing him his tough-guy stance for as long as I could stand watching him moving so stiffly, I finally shut the machine off on him and insisted it was time for a lunch break.

Good thing I shut down the job when I did. Murphy had struck again – #4. John’s back was acting up big time. This is a throw-back injury to when he fell off a ladder nine years ago while picking plums. Every so often his back lets him know he has done something wrong and lays him off work for a few days…sometimes up to a week.

This debris pile clean-up project was definitely not going according to plan. With John resting with the hot water bottle as comfortably as possible (not too fun on a hot day!), I tidied up what we had managed to get done that morning…adding it to Bin #1 with liberal splashings from the hose between layers. There was some threat from the weatherman of a bit of rain over the next couple of days (Murphy again, possibly #5!) so I threw a tarp over the debris pile to keep it dry until John could be issued a return-to-work clearance.

And there it still sits under wraps days later. A long weekend, the annual Filberg Festival, Comox Nautical Days and a visit from an old buddy from Ontario kept John occupied from even thinking about our un-finished business with the debris pile. A good thing as this time his back was a major, needing as long as possible to work itself out.

But frustrating for him. It is not fun getting old when past injuries have a tendency to flare up periodically and bite us in the butt. We always get the distinct feeling Murphy is behind it all.