Nine barrow-loads later

I’ve emptied about half the compost pen, torn a hole in one of my antique-and-irreplaceable T-shirts on the fencing while trying to climb up and out of the pen, and gotten all of a muck sweat with an achy lower back from shoveling out half of what amounts to a three-foot-by-three-foot-by-six-foot hole.  However, I think I’ve figured a solution to how to get in and out of there without doing myself or my clothes an injury, so I’ll have another go at it tomorrow morning when it’s cool again.