Digging in the dirt … again

It was really nice and cool at 0500 this morning, perfect for dismantling weeds with minimal chance of heat stroke. Too bad I didn’t take advantage of that like I said I would. No, instead, I lounged on the couch, waiting for the coffee to finish. Since that didn’t happen until Diane attained a vertical orientation and went to work waiting on me as is her custom. She takes really good care of me and I appreciate it immensely. End result, the coffee wasn’t done until around 0830.

After chugging that first cup of coffee, followed quickly by a large glass of water, I donned my dry work clothes and headed outside to resume the battle for our back yard. We’re gaining because we’re using a flanking maneuver I read about in a comic book. You can’t beat the weed back by going at them in a lineal manner, like from left to right, because they will just fill in the gaps behind you as you progress. No, you must work from both sides as well as the top and bottom of your designated target area, moving back into previously weeded areas to pick up the stragglers. Conducting this war in dry weather is grueling because the weeds are so imbedded it’s like trying to rip apart a sidewalk to release them. They are much easier to pry from the soil right after it rains. It’s messier, for sure, but far mor easy.

Knowing this, logic says to water it all down before the assault but doing so adds considerably to the household deficit which is already in the trillions of dollars, as every knows. Still, it may be less expensive, in the long run, if I simply hook up one of my laser-guided sprinklers and douse the area for a short period of time, exchange my common work attire for a stealth swimming suit, and swoop in when they are least expecting me.

Sounds like a plan. For the moment, I’m recovering from this morning’s mission which left everything I’m wearing, soaking wet, a sure sign that I’ve exuded more than my allotted amount of perspiration for the morning. Rehydration is in progress. When my heart attains a more normal rhythm I will put on my cowboy hat and make one more dash into the war zone to retrieve the tools I left behind. I’m not worried about losing them because weeds do not have opposing thumbs. All they can do is surround things, making it difficult to extract. It’s sad, in a way, because you can almost hear little screams as their roots are pulled from the ground.

I know this battle will continue until I die because all those weeds need is just a teeny tiny little bit of root to remain in the ground in order for them to cover the landscape as soon as you turn your back. They love it, too, when it’s raining really hard, keeping us in side. It’s really annoying to look out and see them pointing and waving at us, sharing something humorous with their siblings, as we stand trapped inside, watching them grow just willy nilly all over the place.

The possible solution is a holistic weed killer Diane discovered that we’re going to try. Chemical warfare isn’t my normal choice for war but using holistic methods seems, to me, to be OK. It’s kind of a religious endeavor if it’s holistic. It’s made using 1 gallon of vinegar, 2 cups of Epsom salts, and 1/4 cup Dawn dish soap. Mix it all up, put it in a sprayer and share it with all your weeds. Their demise, I understand, is fairly quick and painless.

I’ll let you know if it works on black berry vines.

Now I must go perspire a little while longer.

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