About five years ago, I was out in our compost bins flipping and sifting compost on a fine May afternoon. Our bins are open and free-standing, cordoned off into bays by garden fencing attached to garden fence posts and open on one of the four sides. We have three such bays, so that we can always have one for very tough matter (like vines and fibrous things) that will take a while to break down, one that is actively working, and one that we can dig into for finished compost.
Anyway, I was reaching the bottom of the finished compost bay, scooping out the last of the good-smelling humus to sift and put on the garden, when I caught my shovel under a tree root I didn't know was there. In my attempt to lift up, I unbalanced myself, and I threw myself sideways and was unable to get my footing back.
I landed right on the top of one of the fence posts, right on the edge of my ribs where my undergarments have an underwire. If I had landed an inch forward, I could conceivably have impaled myself in a very tender spot.
Well, the U-shaped top of the metal fence post left a U-shaped cut surrounded by an angry purple U-shaped bruise that took a couple of weeks to heal. I couldn't even look at it for a few days without freaking out a little, because of how close that cut and bruise were to such a sensitive area.
Did I mention that I did this less than a week before Mr. FC&G and I competed in our first ballroom dance competition?
Anyway, after the comp we came home and found a tube of old, dead tennis balls, slit them open, and used them to cover the ends of the garden posts so that any future falls would meet with a little bit of protection and padding. Nothing has happened since, but I promise I will never again have a garden post shorter than I am that doesn't have a tennis ball protector on top, even if I have to go buy new tennis balls or other padding to do it.
Consider yourself warned.
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