While my kiddo was here on leave, he did some serious mowing for me when the new TroyBilt tractor. So did I, but it was like . . . well, plowing through the prairie. He went home Sunday, and after bidding him goodbye a la telephone, I went outside, determined to finish the yard. I’m having surgery next week, and I wanted the yard done once before then so it won’t be out of control again once I’m able to get back to it.
Sunday was a gorgeous day with a bit more than the usual wind up here on the hilltop. My safety glasses couldn’t keep the dust and grass bits out of my eyes, but it was beautiful anyway. As I drove mindlessly back and forth, I realized that there wasn’t anyplace in the world I’d rather than be at the moment than in my yard. Pretty nice, huh?
I mowed lots of the front yard and trimmed the low-hanging branches of three of the million trees out there. Carrying armloads of branches into the wind to the clearing where I was dumping them almost made me wish for about fifty of those pounds I lost a few years ago. Honestly, for every three steps forward, I got blown one back or to the side. (But just kidding about the weight!!!)
After a shower and lunch, I went back to work in the side yard. It was in the worst shape of all. I have to break it up into manageable sections; otherwise, it seems as if it takes forever. I was toodling along, feeling smug about all I had accomplished, when the tractor shuddered to a stop. I disengaged the blades, put it in neutral, climbed off and took a look.
I had run over a tree stump buried in the tall grass. Not just run over, but got hung up on it. With the rear wheels in soft dirt and the front ones in the air.
Since Bob was grabbing a much-needed nap, I left the tractor where it was and went to work in the garden. The plot of devil weeds gone wild, three puny pepper plants, one thriving cucumber plant and six lovely tomato plants. I was a bit worried about how teeny-tiny the tomatoes are on two plants until I remembered that I bought two cherry tomato plants. I also planted the cucumber that was blossoming on my windowsill. (It broke the first time I planted it, so I stuck it in a glass of water, not expecting anything, but there it is.)
I’m using black plastic to keep the weeds down. So far, so good. But never ever ever again will I plant my garden in a regular plot. God invented raised beds for a reason, and by golly, I’m going to stick with them for the rest of my life.
A few hours more mowing, a few hours weedeating, and a couple days with the chain saw, and my yard should be DONE.
For a week or so.