It’s late Sunday afternoon on Memorial Day weekend. Since leaving work Friday I’ve been to four parties. I’m not complaining, I love me some parties. After the last party–a brunch this morning–I came home and did my semi-annual round of yard work.
I do not have a green thumb. My mother, sister and brother are all crazy about digging in the dirt. They know the names of all kinds of exotic (to me, at least) flowers. They plot and plan and mulch and fertilize and water and water and water. It’s just not my cup of tea.
Last night’s party was at the house of a woman who also has a yard full of blooming bushes and roses and lots of other things I can’t identify. And she has the knack for arranging and decorating that anyone would be jealous of.
The only thing I can grow are herbs. Because you know what most herbs really are? Mediterrean weeds that happen to taste good. Weeds I can handle. As an aside, the last time I was “working” in the yard, I became hysterical when I saw a blue and white stripped snake. Turns out, it was my untied shoelace. I thought the snake was chasing me.
But today I couldn’t igore the non-herbal weeds any longer. So I hooked up the small trailer to the riding mower (we have a really big yard) and filled the little trailer up with weeds. Rode over to the place where our neighborhood takes yard detritus and dumped it.
(AndthenbythewayJohnwhenIwasputtingthemowerupIaccidentallynudgedthebigtrailerjustalittlebut everything isalrightIswearhopeyou’rehavingfuninHongKong.)
So now I’m cleaned up, the yard work is done and tomorrow is a holiday all for me.
Happy Memorial Day!