I have been lazy.  For weeks, bags of yard waste sat waiting in the third bay of our garage.  Well, today they said goodbye.

Piling half of the bags, plus my kids, into the car (I planned on returning with the kids), we headed for the brush site.  Seeing that it was our first trip to the Land of Brush, I had a question regarding my bags containing old bushes.  “Can I leave the bag?” Pretty straight forward, but the answer was somewhat perplexing.  “If you don’t leave the bag, they go in that pile,” motioning to the closest hill.  “If you use that pile over there, you can leave the bag.”

The distance was not that much between them, so I headed for the more distant “Can Leave the Paper Sack” mountain of yard waste.  Pretending a little fear and apprehension, I turned to the kids and asked, “I wonder what dangers await” (that would require us to drive past the first pile).  Junk yard dogs?  Mulch monsters?  Plumes of decomposition smells?

Good news, we made it to the pile okay.  I began throwing the bags onto the hill, one by one.  Final bag, I asked the kids, “Can I get this one to the top?” Hoisting the sack, it landed halfway up.  The kids mocked.  The lady in the car next to me said she thought it was a pretty good throw.  Damn right, it was.  I would show those youngsters.

We went home.  Packed the car with the remaining sacks and headed back.  I surveyed the mountain.  I picked up the bags (which sadly were heavier than the first load).  One by one, I threw the bags.  Nowhere close to the top.  The kids lost interest.  One bag remained.  One final chance for redemption.  I alerted the kids.  I grasped the sack.  I threw with all I had.  The angle was right.  The wind billowed under the paper.  The wings of angels appeared to accompany the bag’s flight.  Then with a soft “thud,” the bag rested on the summit.

For one fine moment, I savored compost redemption.  I was indeed King of the (Yard Waste) Mountain.

The mountain.

A vision of triumph.  My sack on top.