Mulch Pile

The first half of this is a 100% true story. Then it goes off the rails, in a good way. : )

"Don't forget we need mulch," she called out from the kitchen.

I was headed in to town for a swim, there's a master's club and I go four or five times a week. They're fast -- I'm in the bottom third of the team. So, it would be easy enough to go by the mulch pile on the way home. The Boulder County Public Works Dept. runs a recycling center where people can drop off tree branches or take away mulch. You can drop off old paint or fill dirt or other stuff too, but you have to pay for that.

Maybe it was an early workout and I was at the center by 8:00am on that Sunday, or maybe it was late afternoon. I don't remember. Nobody there, total ghost town. Thet Mulch was kept in a big pile out in the back parking lot. A huge pile really, the size of a house, a two story one. The trick here was to put the tailgate down and back the pickup into the steepest flank of the pile. Then from higher up, you could just shovel the mulch down into the bed. I had a pitchfork I think, but the picture I took just shows a regular short shovel so maybe I was using that one instead.

Anyway, I had clean clothes on, notwithstanding the hot day, 'cause I was fresh from the pool. So now I would get really sweaty and worse, covered with powdered tree dust and dirt, which after all is what mulch IS. It wasn't gross by any means, but definitely filthy, and it would get all over the inside of the truck too.

That's what I told myself as I started to form a plan.

What if I just did this job naked? Nobody here. Keep the truck clean. Save on laundry: it's win-win ...win! Not to mention I get to be nude.

I had literally written stories before (for my g/f, not shared here) where the protagonist is a cute tourist girl, and comes across a work gang in Colombia or somewhere, and they're all digging the grade for a railroad through the jungle. In that story some pale skinny accountant broad in an air conditioned SUV stops by to berate the whole crew and one guy in particular without even getting out of her vehicle. She just rolls down the window and lets them have it. During this episode the tired sweaty men have to climb up out of their ditch and stand there and take it from this bitch and our heroine, from behind a bush realizes as they come up that they are all naked except for shoes and work gloves. It's just the most practical way to do such grimy work. Our hero, the big one, is actually wearing something, a bandana tied around his thigh. Not for modesty -- it's just that he's so hung, he's got to keep it out of the way of the shovel.

But that's another story. I neither had a bandana nor needed one, and I didn't have a taskmaster yelling at me from her air-conditioned Honda, but I could imagine those things so basically, off I went! I stripped out of my clean t-shirt & board shorts (I usually go commando after swimming, lots of us do. I don't know why, but you feel so clean, and pumped and soft all over from the exhaustion, that minimal clothes seem natural.) As for shoes, I had some old running shoes. Habitually I'd retire the running shoes to yardwork duty when they got worn down, and then mistreat them until they were crap and had to be thrown away. So commonly I wouldn't even waste socks on 'em. These shoes had to be kept outside anyway, so wearing them in the mulch pile was no problem.

Now mulch might have a splinter in it, or even a rare piece of barbed wire, but mostly it is soft. The tree roots and branches have been pulverized as well as shredded. If it wasn't so damn hot, it would be a great place to lay down and nap. Anyway, pretty uneventful after that. I pitchforked the truck full of mulch, snapped a selfie, and was just about ready to leave.

-- ok, this part isn't true any more, but I swear the rest of it was. --

Up comes an old white Subaru Forester towing a little two wheel trailer.. You can see them coming a mile away because the recycling center is up on a little bluff NE of town, and it's a long circuitous drive in (& up) from the north edge of the facility. These are the first people to show up in the whole time I'd been there, over half an hour. I could just make out two heads before I figured I had to traverse around the pile (skiiers left) to the South side, out of their view. And surely they *would* be coming here because you either drop off something at the recycling center -- any number of different kinds of household junk and yard waste -- or you pick up mulch. I'm trying to remember if there's anything else you can get, like sand, maybe? But I don't think so. Anyway, they were driving up the hill towards the mulch pile so I figured they were coming here and I wasn't wrong. Pretty sure they hadn't seen me.

As they approached, they angled left, to circle around the pile and park on the south side, where I was standing about half way up the slope. They pretty much had to do that on account of my truck taking up the North side. So as they got close and circled around, I scurried around towards my truck, keeping the bulk of the pile between us. I didn't see exactly where they parked but I could hear it so I knew approximately. From their voices, two gals. Talking about the job, they had a rake or a shovel. I guessed they'd use both. Now I could just glissade down the slope & get dressed safely on the far side of my truck and head out. My bed was almost full anyway.

But it was tempting to stay. I was in earshot of these ladies, stark naked and covered in dark brown wood dust. It was too exciting. I launched another pitchfork-full into the truck where it landed with a soft "thump." I made some kind of grunting sound effect too, though the loudest sound was the pitchfork snicking into the pile: I was pretty sure they could hear that, and the rattling of the small twigs and bits bouncing off the top of my cab.

Anyway I went on for a little bit, and heard them get started. It wasn't going too well. Rakes get clogged, and I knew the shovel won't penetrate unless you really wail on it. It was time to go. Or maybe I could help! At this point I started to get hard, thinking about what was going to happen next. So I poked my head around the flank of the pile and leaned on the pitchfork a bit, pretty sure I was just showing my shoulders and nothing else.

"Hey..." or some similar introductory banter. It was two cute girls, wearing work clothes, one in baggy gym shorts and a sweatshirt, sleeves cut short, the other in overalls and a t-shirt. Two ponies and pretty sweaty and filthy already. (I'd made the right call, stripping!)

"Hey back," said one of them, smiling and wiping her forehead. She had gloves on. They both did. They knew this was gonna be a major chore.

"It's a real bitch to shovel this stuff. Do you guys want to use my pitchfork?"

"Thanks, I don't know... I think we got this?" said the brunette.

But then overalls said "Um, actually, if it's easier, that would be really great, if it's no problem?"

"No problem at all," I said. "I'm about done anyway. I could help you for a minute, but I have a bit of a problem..."

"What's wrong? We don't mean to impose..."

"It's not that. The thing is, there was nobody here, and I didn't want to get my clothes dirty so... I kinda decided to shovel nude!" I made a face.

"No way! Really?"

"Just give me a second to go throw some shorts on, and I'll help.."

"Nuh-uh! Prove it!" squealed the other one, and she started walking, quickly, around towards me.

Now I'd meant the part about putting on shorts, I had reached the edge of my comfort zone, but now this chick was gonna see me an a couple seconds if I didn't RUN away like, ...like a little girl, so I decided to brazen it out. I spread my arms in a shrug, pitchfork in one hand, and made another face and stood there while she took it in.

Overalls was gobsmacked. She froze with her mouth open and just stood there for a second. Sweatshirt got a look at her friend and high tailed it around the mulch pile and she started yelling stuff -- encouragement? -- as I came into view.

"Nice pitchfork." managed the blonde one (overalls).

"Nice tool!" yelled the other. "Move your hands!" (I had self consciously covered my junk after the first shrug. Now I had to / got to bend over and pick up my fallen pitchfork. It had to be a good view for them.

"Yah, we can use the help, come on down," said overalls.

"Ok, I guess since we're all acquainted now, I won't bother with the shorts..."

...to be continued.