I finished the yard work about an hour ago, which is good news on several fronts.

First and foremost, it’s done, and I don’t have to worry about it for a good while. Well, almost—there are a couple of weeds jammed between the deck and the fence, not easy to get to, but my back won’t stand for any more nonsense today; I’ll deal with those during the week.

Second, this will be the last time I blog on the subject of yard word, which is good, right? In fact, even though those weeds will just grow back, and I’ll have to do this all again in a few weeks, I promise not to blog about it.

I did promise Before and After pics, though, and here they are:

So that’s where our BBQ grill was, all this time.

The growth in that first shot came up incredibly fast—no more than three weeks, I think. Some of those big, stinging weeds (like the one just left of centre) grew four feet in that time.

In the hour since I finished, I’ve cleaned up, had a coffee and a couple of well-earned sausage biscuits as a late breakfast. Time for a break, then on with some editing.

Until next time . . .

I’ve been back on the yard work, starting early while it’s cool. And wet. Yes, it rained last night (first time in weeks), so everything’s sodden, including me. I’m taking a breather break for a slurp of tea and to rest my back and hip (they’re giving me gyp already).

Still, I’m about a third done. I’d have got further if not for the weed in the picture (this weed is #6 in a series of . . . well, a lot; I’m collecting the set, it seems).

Heavy, fleshy green stuff on a fibrous endoskeleton that needs a machete to chop through. It can’t be reasoned with. It can’t be bargained with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or anger. It is the T-101 of weeds.

I’d better get back to it. Phased plasma rifle at the ready. Well, if I had one. Just what you see, pal.

More later, including before-and-after pics.

Following on from the previous . . .

I marked off the area from the side gate to the back corner of the house as my target for today, which is about half the weedy area of the yard. Perfectly chosen, as it worked out: my back started to give out just as I was down to the last handful of weeds.

• Weeds ripped out: several hundred, possibly into the low four digits.
• Rattlesnakes encountered: zero.
• Japanese soldiers encountered: zero.
• Back-break factor: 50%, give or take.
• Sweat: I feel like I’m a quart low. Is it beer o’clock yet?
• Soil: gathered about half a pound. Could be worse.
• Spiderwebs: two or three. Gross-out factor 90%. (I don’t like spiders, and I hate getting webs on me.)

I need tea, a shower then food. I might get back to editing after that (I left off at a bit more than halfway through Chapter 7, so I’m not doing too bad), or I might kick back and watch some telly. Tomorrow, the other half of the weeding.