My legs are sore; my back is stiff, my arms ache, my fingernails are permanently dirty, my hands are covered in little cuts. But, to the best of my knowledge, I don’t have poison ivy. Hooray!
The past two days have provided delightful weather, relatively speaking. Yesterday’s high was only 89. The humidity has been reasonable.
I summoned up the courage to go outside and see what’s been happening in the yard these last 37 days, 30 of which have seen the temperature top 90 degrees.
(Offering words of encouragement, the weatherman has reminded us, “At least you don’t have to shovel heat and humidity.” On the other hand, you can always put more clothes on. There reaches a point at which you can’t take more clothes off.)
But back to the yard…
We don’t have a large yard. Less than a fifth of an acre. But while we were huddled inside around the air conditioning vents, Mother Nature was wreaking havoc on our little patch of paradise. The hill in back, the beds around the house, and the grass all looked woefully untended.
There were not one but two vines running rampant on the hill. Weeds of every description were having a party and inviting all their friends. They were spreading out to my neighbors’ houses on both sides.
I pulled. I dug. I clipped. I cursed. I sweated. I prayed.
The yard finally looks good enough to where I can say, “Man, I really need to get out there and do some yard work.”
It’s a big improvement over just wanting to pave over the whole .2 acres. I guess I’ll forgo the call to hire Christo and Jeanne-Claude to hang orange curtains around the yard to hide the view.