I got out early in hopes of making a Lawn Order post instead of my usual Wrist to Forehead Sunday blog post. Well, fighting the lawn (and the lawn won) did cause me to swoon, dramatically posed with the back of one wrist to my forehead, but I felt I got something done, so I took a few pictures and I will attempt to make a blog post recounting my adventures.
No, really, this IS the “after” picture.
I maybe should have taken a “before” picture. I spent some ten minutes yesterday and a little bit longer today with clippers, chopping away at dead daisies and past their prime peonies (I made up the alliterative titles while I worked) while trying to let the purple flowers live. There was a insidious invasive species I tried to do away with as well. One sprig of purple blooms ended up in my green waste container, but I clipped it with a pair of scissors and it now resides in a bud vase in my living room. Sorry there is no picture of it, but my living room is quite cluttered. I hope to fight that mess to a standstill as the week progresses.
Not party ready yet, but getting there!
After puffing and panting out front (bending and straightening is not fun for my age and weight) (yes, I KNOW I can do something about the latter, I’m trying, but these things take time, give me a break!) (you know who you are), I went out back to my deck. There were still leaves on it from last fall, which I know is extremely harmful to the wood. I huffed and puffed first with a rake then with a broom. I feel I met with some success.
Luna, the dog next door, came out on her back porch and barked at me. There were no balls handy for me to throw for her, as I explained to her. She watched me work for a while, making sad noises from time to time but in general acquiescing in my refusal to play with her. I felt bad, but there is only so much an old lady like me can do, after all. Quite frankly, if there had been a ball handy I might have thrown it a few times and let some of the leaves go hang, but we’ll never know.
Yes I know the lawn needs mowing.
Three containers is the most we can leave out. Also, they don’t like stuff to stick up over the top of the containers. So I felt I was in compliance. I went back in the house and like any normal person got on the internet for a while. After scrolling around, I noticed some weird brown puffy things on my shirt. Oh dear. This is what happens when you don’t get into the shower right away. It was awkward to get a picture of the shirt (I do like to document these things), but luckily there were some on my socks.
It’s an old pair of sneakers.
This is turning out to be a long blog post. Isn’t that nice? Maybe I should try to write a few other things. Maybe that novel I keep talking about. I’ll let you know how that turns out. Maybe a horror novel about invasive species and little brown puffy things who terrorize old ladies who just want to have parties on their decks. What do you think?
