“That’s a nice shade of red”, I thought this morning, as I looked down the driveway, “but I have a feeling it’s not meant to be there.”
It wasn’t. Weeds. Dense weeds. But on the way to deal with them, I got side-tracked by other weeds, inluding several that were, oh my goodness, turning into trees. Literally. So I pulled on them and yanked on them and I twisted and pulled again. Finally I got one out.
Then I went to find a weapon to deal with the rest, but my choice was hardly adequate to the task so I puffed and pulled some more, and eventually I got to the original offenders which appear to be mini fir trees, although I’m not sure about that.
When I told Grant he said I should have saved some for re-planting. Now he tells me.
Actually I should have thought about it myself. But I know there are another 100,000 out there.
At least there were before the lawn man came.
We had a few wee complaints from the bird population. They were having the devil of a time negotiating their way through the front garden. The cardinal gave up and left in a huff. The wee birds congregated in their bush looking at us with disgust. But today the lawn man arrived.
The lawn man comes buzzing in on his hovercraft machine (that’s what it looks like), 15 minutes and we were done. Then the birds all flew in. “That’s better”, they cried “keep on it, will you?”
We said we would.
The dear little dove, as always was happy either way.