When The Husband reaches for a hoe, weed-whacker, or the mower, I quake in fear. You need to know this, The Husband is a fine gardener. With my lousy back, he not only does the heavy lifting in our gardening, he does all the lifting. He cares, he truly enjoys the rewards, and he is willing to do the work. I am deeply grateful.
However. You knew that was coming, didn’t you? However, when it comes time to clean up the yard, he is, in his heart, committed to what I have named the General Sherman school of landscaping. That’s General William Tecumseh Sherman, he of the “scorched earth” policy. Right. The general who torched Atlanta.
When he announced that it was time to mow down what was left of the wild daisies near the house, I was a little nervous. Who knew what else would fall along with the dried daisy stalks. I watched him drive the tractor out of the shed and retreated to the office, resigned to live with the consequences.
This time, it turned out for the best. I can walk more freely now, no longer dodging the impenetrable clumps of stalks with all the dried vegetation camouflaging goodness only knew what. The ant beds are a new concern, but I have long been wary of the gopher holes, and we do live in rattlesnake country. Now, I can see where I am going and feel more confident to explore beyond what had been my narrow walkways. The first signs of fall are already in the air and there will be more of these cloud shows in the days to come. It’s nice having access to even more viewpoints from which to enjoy them. General Sherman, a job well done. I salute you, sir.