A few days ago I went by the Marti Frumhoff Memorial Garden site and discovered these truck tracks in the clay:

Added to my annoyance was my talent for falling* which pitched me into a seething
fury.
An irrigation system had been installed and as I stepped down into the wet clay which has the tenacity of quicksand to check on the line I slid into the clay stew. The stuff in the photo is the stuff of bricks. This was the day after an intense rain.
Sure enough a truck had taken out one of the sprinkler heads.
I came home and emailed the photo to the city project manager who met me on site today with a herd of other people: The contractor who built the site, The plumber(s) who installed the irrigation and an engineer.
Suddenly, everyone else was
PISSED OFF.
Solutions were presented and discussed.
I mentioned I had offers from two neighbors who were willing to help till the site. I was told it's been tilled and had to explain to the herd of people that compost and gypsum must be added to the clay if anything is going to grow. Everyone agreed, boiling moods slowed to a simmer and the herd moved off.
Then I drove to Bayer's in Imperial, MO to pick out five trees.
Beau ran wild in the tree farm and lifted his leg on every trunk.
*Bad Tim (after dropping me off after dinner one night) watched me fall down my front steps, roll across the sidewalk and land in the street. After asking if I was OK he said,
That was spectacular!