Sunday was lawn day. I was so traumatized by the events on Sunday that it's taken me two whole days to be able to talk about it. Let me start by saying that every year, I swear I'm going to pick up poo all winter. And every year, something happens to thwart my plans. This year, I was really good! Right up until February. Of course, we barely had any snow this year so it was pretty easy! Then Valentine's day rolled around.. and my yard looked like this:
Yeah, there was no picking up poo in that.. and then the heaven's opened up again on St. Patricks' day, dumping another two feet of snow. One would think, what's a little frozen poo? The problem was it was creating these little traps of poo pockets in the snow and I couldn't FIND it all! Fast foward: Spring thaw. The birds are singing, the snow is melting and poo is floating in the pond I used to call my backyard. (I can hear all of you saying "ew".. imagine, I lived this) It's now May and I've finally been able to walk in the back yard without sinking up to my ankles in muck and dessicated poo. Which means the grass is now almost 8 inches high, thriving in it's fertile, wet muck. I can't find ANY poo, old or new hiding in the forest. What else can I do but start chopping? So I haul out my trusty non electric/non gas/green lawn mower and get pushing. And I push.. and I push... and I gasp... and I wheeze.. and I groan.... and I almost pass out. I have had it... I'm exhausted and sweaty and to top it all off, the mower isn't cutting the grass! Little tufts of stubborn thick weedy things are popping back up.. mocking me.. I can almost hear them "nyah nyah" ing with their little weedy voices. All clear and rational thought disappears in a sweaty haze of frustration. I marched back to the shed and hauled out the weedwacker... and went to town! Ah it felt so good! The exhilaration of pure destructive revenge! The adrenaline! The Glee! All of my Pagan, Earth Loving thoughts gone in a green haze of pulverized grass clippings! Woooooo! ! ! ! ! Until.... The whipping cable of the weed wacker wacks into a pile of relatively fresh poo, splattering everything in a 10 foot radius.