I love spring! The cheerful chirping of birds not heard for months fill the air, flowers begin blooming, and, most importantly, the bass begin biting. But there is one aspect of spring I loath. Along with all the plant life springing back to life, so follows my lawn and the weeds in our flower beds. Both are beginning their annual screams for my attention. They are a curse to mankind.
As in years past, I have ignored the lawn for as long as possible, my main excuse being rain and soggy ground. But now the sun is shining more often and the lawn has reached the stage where it could either be considered a lawn or this year’s hey crop. It’s either mow or cut and bale. I prefer the latter, but between my wife and my neighbors, that is not an option. And then my wife’s diabolical decision to have a lawn service fertilize it, what seems like, every other weekend, compounds the chore.
The only way to describe my lawn is grass on steroids. Everyone has heard the saying, “Boring as watching grass grow.” In the case of my lawn, one can actually watch it grow, though I call it less than entertaining. I believe it also makes menacing noises as each blade flexes its muscles.
Each spring I look at my lawn mower while grabbing the starting chord and say, “Sears, don’t let me down.” My mower is going on ten years old, and is no doubt the most neglected piece of motorized equipment I own. I have never changed the oil or sparkplug. I replaced the air filter once, and that was only because it had reached the point of being totally unrecognizable, and, I might add, the mower wouldn’t start. But each spring it fatefully starts, making my mower a poster child for Craftsman.
The weeds are the worse curse. If my flowers did half the job of jubilantly growing as the weeds, I am quite sure I would draw more visitors than the Britannica Gardens. Obviously receiving their share of over -sprayed steroids, they seem to poke me in the ass as soon as I turn in another direction to weed. Countless times I have mentioned to the wife that if looked at in the right light, they could be considered fine ground cover. Yeah, like that ever works!
I have one weed we call Horse Tail. Some may have other names for it. I know I have a few other choice names that come to mind. It cannot be killed. I have tried every weed killer and home remedy known to mankind. None works. In fact I am quite sure that if my home took a direct hit from a nuclear warhead, within a week the Horse Tail would be sprouting throughout the smoldering crater.
I ignore the weeds for as long as possible. But it isn’t long before my wife makes her threats. She has a saying she enjoys using. “Until your outlook on weeding improves, the floggings will continue.” Nonsensical, but nonetheless effective.
So in a couple hours it is all about to begin again. Cursed be the first man or woman who said, “Hey, wouldn’t the area around the house look nicer if the range grass was cut, and maybe put in some flower beds. And after you’re done plowing the back forty and/or the front forty, and all your other chores, you can mow and weed.” Yeah, I have not a doubt in my mind it was the woman who made the suggestion. I so badly want to say, “Just leave me alone, woman. I’m going fishing!” Needless to say, I never actually say that. I just do what I have to do. But I do go fishing a couple times a week. So, like in years past, I can deal with it. Well, actually, I have no choice….