What are those little brown dots?!

You know things have gotten out of control with the hedges when their appearance offends yours truly.

I'm pretty forgiving of vegetation that takes on its own shape rather than conforming to society's dictates.

In fact, I thought it was pretty cool this spring when two flowering vines began to weave their way thru the bushes in front of my screened porch. One had red blossoms on it, the other pink. And, they kinda brightened-up things around this little corner of heaven.

Recently, though, their life cycle must've come to an end. Because, instead of the colorful blossoms, all I had running thru the hedge were two dead, brown vines.

So, yesterday I got up at the crack of dawn to beat the heat and tackled the necessary pruning.

The problem is that it is now evident that I should have used gloves before I tried to tame the jungle.

I say that because I discovered my hands are covered with little brown dots this morning.

No, they're not freckles, and attempts to scrub them off have failed.

Perhaps an allergic reaction?

So much for my hand modeling aspirations . . .

Jungle update

OK, ye socks can stop worrying about it. Yesterday's rainy weather has blown away. Ye olde Briggs and Stratton got fueled-up. And, yours truly finally got out there and mowed the yard. No longer the neighborhood pariah!!

Outta gas . . . literally!

Pretty frustrating day, ye socks!

Started out alright, but quickly went downhill.

Ye olde jungle, otherwise known as my yard, finally requires some taming.

Yep, winter is over. Gotta start the mowing regime again.

Yours truly must admit he was a bit nervous that ye olde mower might not crank after sitting idle for so many months.

Good ol' Briggs and Stratton, though. Fired up on the 3rd pull.

That's the good news.

The bad news is . . . I forgot to check the gas tank.

After mowing a few strips in the back yard, the engine conked out.

Easily remedied?

No.

Ye olde gas can was bone dry, too.

I give up.

My neighbors can hate me for another day, but this yard is gonna have to go one more day before it gets mowed!

A not so quiet morning

Even ye socks who only know me thru my posts in the dryer are aware of the Saturday morning routine in this neck o' the woods.

Especially in the heat of summer, I like to get out to do the yard work before conditions become too intolerable.

Ok, maybe "like to" isn't quite accurate.

At any rate, I try to get out there and do quiet things like weeding, raking, pruning, etc., until about 8 o'clock. Then, I crank up the mower. Any earlier just wouldn't be neighborly, I suppose.

This morning, however, while I was busying myself with the quieter pursuits, the tranquility along Elizabeth Avenue was disturbed by one of the engines from the nearby fire station.

We are fairly accustomed to the comings and goings of our city firefighters around here. But, there was something odd about this morning's disruption to the peace and quiet we typically enjoy.

For some reason, the engine was emitting a long, slow siren as it practically inched down our little residential street. The only time I've ever seen something like that was when the driver was having a difficult time spotting a street number while responding to a call. But, that didn't appear to be the cause of the odd cruise this morning. The engine just continued crawling down to the foot of the street, and took a lackadaisical turn along the shore of Lake Ivanhoe, siren mournfully wailing the entire way.

I know there are a coupla firefighters who read these posts. So, what's up with this?

Hittin' the bricks

Well, ye socks, I just completed one of my least favorite chores out in the yard: weeding the brick sidewalks.

Sometimes, I wonder if all the little green sprouts only bother me . . . but, after letting things go the last few weekends, I was pretty sure they must be offending others.

So, I made sure I got up at the crack of dawn to tackle this little project. Wanted to get it over and done with before the summer sun became too intolerable.

As it turns out, the sun wasn't so much my enemy as the bricks were themselves.

While, I was able to dispatch the vast majority of the green invaders, I managed to brush up against the brick edges enough times to burn some pretty nasty looking blisters into the first joint of both index fingers, and the corners of both thumbs, and the outside edges of both hands.

Guess this is why smarter gardeners wear gloves?!?

Taming the jungle

If any of ye socks had asked me twenty years ago about my feelings toward yardwork . . . especially on the weekend . . . the answer would have been far different than it is today.

Back then, it was all about forced labor on a dusty, Texas-sized parcel of land.

The infrequent reward was a ten dollar bill. More often than not, however, I was told to be thankful for the roof over my head and three squares a day.

Oh, how times have changed.

Nowadays, I actually enjoy working in the yard. At least, early in the mornings. Any other time of day, and it's just too hot in this little corner of heaven.

I guess one of the reasons I've grown to enjoy it so much is because it's one of the few times left in this hectic world where I can unplug. I'm no longer the slave of a computer or cell phone, just the unruly botanical encroachments on my (thankfully) postage-stamp sized patch of green.

Lately, I've been trying to fight the war out there with "earth friendly" tactics. I use a push mower and edge with a hoe. Both, are decidedly less convenient methods, but I can use the exercise. And, in addition to the cut in carbon emissions, I'm enjoying the reduced fuel costs and decibel levels around here.

Also, I've been trying to use organic methods to ward off the annoying little sprouts that creep up between my brick walks. Unfortunately, they have been a decided failure, requiring yours truly to get down to the bruising and scraping task of trying to fight the battle mano a mano.

I get a lot of thinking done out there, though. At least until the neighbors start waking up for their morning strolls. They either want to chat or let their canine companions christen my horticultural palate. A few interruptions like that, combined with the growing intensity of the Florida sun, generally drive me back indoors well before lunch time.

Such is the state of affairs on this particular kick-off to the weekend . . .

A nice, quiet Saturday

Well, ye socks, I've really been enjoying this nice, quiet Saturday.

Probably because things have been a little off-kilter around this neck of the woods lately.

Now that the house guests have headed home, I have moved back downstairs and caught-up on those mundane little chores that I'd let slide for a week or so.

You know, laundry, yardwork . . . napping!

Weekends rock! Quiet weekends rock even more! (Wait a minute, that doesn't sound quite right, does it?!)

Ahhhh . . . the smell of Spring!

I don't know about the rest of ye socks, but nothing smells better to yours truly than a freshly-mowed lawn.

In a move that may have annoyed a couple of my late-rising neighbors in this little corner of heaven, yardwork at my abode commenced prompty at 8am today.

I wasn't entirely without a conscience. I didn't actually crank-up the mower for a good half hour, as I had to pick up the dozen or so rotten grapefruit that have been moldering since I last had the gumption to attack the back yard.

Then I had to double-check the testy back wheel that has been falling off at inopportune moments since the day I bought this mower. And, finally, the annual checklist I've been following ever since my Uncle Richard gave it to me in 1995. Spark plug? Check. Oil? Check. Blade? Check. Air filter? Check. etc etc

Anyway, now that it's done and I'm sitting here sipping some lemonade and admiring my handwork, I finally feel like Spring has officially sprung.

And, boy am I glad I got this chore done early. I'm beginning to roast out here. Time to retreat to the comfort of climate control . . .

Summer's end yard work

Well, ye socks, it is the last official day of summer, but the heat says otherwise.

Yours truly finally broke down and bought a new lawn mower, the shiny green Briggs & Stratton pictured here.

Actually got it yesterday, and assembled it as I watched the Gators romp over Tennessee.

I guess I should have been paying more attention to the assembly process, because one of the wheels flew off after making only a couple of passes across the back yard.

I couldn't find the lug nut or one of the washers in the high grass, and really didn't feel like investing too much time hunting under the abusive sun.

No big deal, I thought, I'll just head over to "the place with the helpful hardware man." He evidently doesn't work on Sundays, because I ended up having to sort thru two aisles of potential replacement parts. Should've written down the sizes from the instruction manual instead of just carrying examples from another wheel. So, I had an unwelcome surprise when I got back home and the wheel didn't fit quite as well as the other three. But, I was determined to "get 'er done" and pushed on. Pun intended.

Anyway, three wheels or three-and-a-half, the yard looks pretty good now.

I, on the other hand, am in desperate need of a shower.

And a massage.

Or, at least an aspirin.