Ladies and Gentlemen,
family and friends,
while my dear wife is away,
I have decided to commander her blog.
Yep.
I am bad man.
I need reminders and a good wife
to keep me on track.
Case #1
H's garden here at the Marsbarn
has been affectionately dubbed,
"The Garden of Benign Neglect."
Our effort in the yard is sporadic
and occassional, but with good intentions.
Long ago, before children, pregnancies,
abdominal surgeries and gun shot wounds,
H planned out a peaceful retreat in the yard.
Without care, the weeds of the city encroach.
The Marsbarn is over a hundred years old.
Blackberries and English Ivy,
morning glories and hemlock,
night shade and strangle weed,
lay siege to our yard.
On days like yesterday,
days that are warm with a cool wind,
I attack the yard.
In series of border skirmishes,
I fight back the black berries,
trim back branches foot by foot,
and then remove the roots.
Dandelions die.
Innocent plants are collateral damage.
Grubs and slugs are captured
and cast in the the yard debris can.
The berserker fury of my heritage
subsided to my hunger.
I stepped into the yard at eleven.
It was now two.
Oops.
Time to pick up Little E
and Sweetheart G from school.