Glancing out the window at 6.45 this morning, I was compelled by the little silver speck to go and take it’s picture:
It was not cold this morning, so I decided to watch the developing spectacle.
Most of the annoying nibblers are gone, so I strolled around on the newly mown grass, muttering to myself about the shoddy work. These two cowboys ride around on their noisy machines spraying cut grass wherever it should fall and paying no attention when they plaster it all over the side of the house.
Perhaps one is meant to offer a bribe for better service? I suppose it would be called a “tip” here, but it amounts to the same thing.
These savages are careless and also damned annoying.
When they cut sunflowers or other pretty flowers that happen to have grown up in the “lawn”, it’s fair enough to see them decimated.
But I was proudly monitoring two stray zinnias that had managed to take root above my wildflower bed, at the edge of the driveway. This morning: – GONE.
If those inoffensive little flowers had to be yanked out, why did the so-and-so’s not remove the weeds?
My mother would have had serious words to say to those two, I can tell you.
Perhaps I’ll blame them for what happened later…
With a pound of grass on either foot, I cast off my garden clogs before going in for breakfast, making note that some tidying up would be in order.
(See, it was their fault.)
Gardening, as I’ve mentioned before, is haphazard. There is no plan, so I selected a number of tools and sallied forth, dealing first with some grass-covered bushes.
Thinking, all the time “why bother?”
Well some might call me a stubborn woman.
Sometimes this gets me into trouble.
In the periphery, I caught sight of that dratted invasive vine. “Ah, right…I’ve been meaning to have a go at you!”
Better access now, fewer leaves and no ticks. Right.
So I waded in and yanked on the thing, pulling out a few long strands, thorns and all.
But then I encountered an uncooperative bit.
Wrapping it around my wrists I braced my feet and gave it the benefit of my full weight.
Snap. It broke and I had time to think “this is going to hurt.” But, as I always say, I am very good at falling.
The part of me that met the ground was my “good” hip. Being that I was on a slight slope wasn’t very helpful, but I survived the jolt and quickly got up, looking round to make sure Grant hadn’t noticed.
The question is, do I come clean and tell the nice pain-management lady tomorrow how it is that my bad hip is so much worse, suddenly?
The last shot I got had initially been helpful, then I wasn’t so sure and I had been wondering what to report.
Now I’ll be lucky if I can even walk into the clinic because when I fell my joints rattled. Probably would have been better if I had selected to fall on the bad hip.
At least then I would still have one good one!
Perhaps I’ll go and lie down for a while…