Galvanized and Confused: When the Budget Goes Up in Smoke

We have a very large, very odd driveway, leading to an even odder yard. This property is about as private as a hospital gown. According to passing weirdos that stop by to chat (I blame the lack of privacy), the original owner had some sort of trailer or something that sat in the driveway. There is certainly room for the long, long trailer. The driveway is terrific parking for all the parties I don't have and it's great for a little 3-year-old who is learning to pedal a bike, I really can't complain. Plus, I have the mad horty skills to make a humongous driveway look a little more cozy and perhaps add a little privacy for us.

A little more than a month ago, I sent a link to Dan that showed him the 4' long, galvanized feeder troughs from Tractor Supply Warehouse that I wanted to help soften up the driveway. I sent the email as a "in the very back of your mind, know that I want to do this" sort of thing. In the email, I mentioned that I wanted a few (about 5) and that they were pricey (about $80 each) and that I had no idea how we'd acquire them. I guessed that we could have splurged on one at a time and it might fit in the back of his car. There really isn't a Tractor Supply Warehouse around here and delivery isn't an option. So this whole scheme is a BIG WHAT-IF? DEAL and I'm expecting my husband, who was at work at the time, to tell me I'm totes Nutella and to get back in the kitchen and learn how to make doughnuts, or whatever.

But he didn't. Nope. In fact, he went the opposite route, entirely.

Dan got on Craigslist and found a scad of 8' troughs for sale, locally. They were the same price as the 4' ones are, brand new. He called me, giddily, "Do you care if they are pre-used? Do you care that they are twice as large? DO YOU WANT ALL 8?"

Please know that this is the deal of the millennium.

Now. I'm a cheap girl. I have buyers' remorse when I check books out at the library. Parting with that kind of money for a bunch of planters made each follicle of my hair sweaty- and yet I had to make a decision before someone else swept up this phenomenal deal.

So, I said that I wanted them and relied on my Better-Half to apply the brakes. Because where I do lose my fool head about money, it's effing plant related. I'll tell you that, for sure.
And a few days later, I came home from a gig to this:

So, here's the deal: Dan talks the guy down in price because we bought all they had and for some reason, he was all ants-in-the-pants to get rid of them. Now, how do we get 8 HUGE troughs in our yard from 15 miles away? Dan asks our rad neighbor, who has a dump truck and outstanding taste in loud music, to go get them for us. Which for some reason he did.

And, drum roll please, our neighbor discloses that when he went to pick them up he asked what they were used for, there in a warehouse in Chicago, where there are no horses to water for miles and miles. Why, marijuana production, of course!

So now I have these 8 tubs with a sordid past filling up my driveway, creating privacy in an especially awkward area. My dream is to fill them with 3 Arborvitae each and then surround them with hangy, drippy perennials. But we are totally toasted on the budget right now as it is. So we managed to get a few Arbs and a few yards of soil for now and we'll finish when we can afford it.
 I didn't estimate correctly and got half the soil we needed, which turned out to be a blessing because the stuff we ordered was "half compost and half topsoil" and I find it to be mostly clay

 Filling these beasts was a good-sized chore, glad to have help

As far as we got
 We only got 3 tubs filled but I feel like at least my hospital gown has a nice line of Velcro down the back. We can sit in that area without being gawked at and if all of Hazel's toys and bikes don't make it into the garage at night, they have a safe and not-too-messy-looking harbor, until I can find the garage door opener.

The empty tubs will be filled, for now, with annual climbers like Canary Creeper and as many Castor Beans as I can manage.

And man, does it ever make a good story to tell where they came from and what their past life was.
Holy smokes!