You can probably tell, from the way I wrote that title, that I’m not really a fan of yard work. To my wife, gardening is a fun thing to do. To me, it’s a chore involving breaking your back while getting covered in sweat, soil and spiderwebs. As far as I’m concerned, the perfect garden is made of concrete.
But needs must, I suppose. Thanks to a couple of showers a couple of weeks ago, and heat and sunshine since, the yard at the side of the house is a mess. I mean, if you could hold it up, side-by-side, with a chunk of the Amazon rain forest, you’d have a job telling them apart. I’m putting on stout boots and gloves before I go out there. My wife thinks it’s in case there are rattlers hiding. In fact, it’s in case there are any Japanese soldiers in there, wondering if WWII is over yet.
Enough of blogging while I procrastinate. Better get to it. The sooner I get done, the sooner I can get back to the important work.
Later, friends . . .