reclamate the world

Tommorow, I will become a grass planter. My crew's first job as oil-site-reclamation-specialists is to plant grass grown in plugs on defunctified rig sites. And so, suited in reflective-striped blue coveralls, orange hard hats, gloves, safety glasses and CSA approved steel-toed boots, we will venture where pretty much no one has gone before.

While sites have been reclaimed, and planters have been called in to plant, there has never before been a crew of planters specifically assembled for the purpose of reclamation. We are the lazy elite. The chosen soft-core few with the eye of the kitten and the resolve of the jellyfish.

You can take those environmentally unfriendly petroleum products and burn them off with your ludicrous over-sized modicum transportatii, but somewhere out there in Alberta will be a two thousand square foot patch of dirt with fresh-planted grasslings swaying in the breeze, looking all natural and soothing and such. You can go there when your town gets unliveable. It'll be nice.