two small hats
DH has to work today. We have tickets to a 2 PM matinee showing of Jersey Boys that we bought clear back in February. The slave drivers said it would be ok for him to get in his 8 hours early, so he rolled out at 3AM this morning. He's hero in my book!
Not enough yellow yarn to knit another goldfish, so I went for kiddie hats. Yellow is such a cheerful color. If I were cold little kid, I think I'd be happy to have a yellow hat.
I got up at 5, as usual, hit Facebook and the blogs, checked the e-mail, cleaned up from last night's dinner, then put on the work pants and gloves, and went out to do battle with the morning glories. I worked for two hours, completely filled a yard debris can (mashed down and flowing over, but not fully compressed. They really object if you climb on top of the can and jump on the debris. It won't come out of the can if you do that.) There's enough morning glories for another two hours of ripping at least.
I can tell I am not a natural -born gardener. All the green thumbs I know talk about the joy of weeding, the sense of accomplishment, and the zen-like peace that a good weeding session engenders. I don't feel satisfied or peaceful. I feel sore. And the little green bastards keep coming back! It's never-ending. I'm beginning to think scorched earth might not be such a bad way to go.
On the other hand, the roses, which thrive on neglect, are going gang-busters. And amazingly enough, a star-gazer lily has made it through the grass and glories. ah. sweet! Oh, and the place where we dumped the pumpkin guts last Halloween? Feral pumpkins leafing out and beginning to spread.
And so the Viney War begins. Pumpkins and ivy taking on the morning glories, twined in tendril to tendril combat, throwing leaves one over the other, struggling for maximum sunnage, throttling their competitors with brutal persistence. Thank God they don't have automatic weapons yet! All we need is a few mercenary zucchini, and it won't be safe to walk in the yard anymore.