Skip to main content

For The Birds

 


Lawn maintenance is for the birds

 

I didn't want to do it, but it was my turn to cut the grass. It was a cold day, and the threat of rain forced me to kick myself in the butt. Our property is huge and weirdly shaped, and I never know exactly where to start. It is like most daunting jobs; I got to get it out of the way and let momentum kick in. I feel the same way when I go for my outdoor walks. The first lap I'm feeling stiff and uninspired. The second lap is better but now I have caught the attention of overprotective red wing black birds. I pretend not to notice but I can hear them as they swoop down just above my head and yell at me with that annoying call. I convince myself, "only four laps to go" Lap three yellow jackets decide they want to have fun too. Now I have birds and bees swarming me. I walk to help me with my stress and it's not working!!! In fact, I'm about to freak out! I just want to exercise damn it! Leave me alone!!! I would like to say that ignorance is bliss but the more I tried to ignore them, the more relentless they became. So, piss on bliss. I wasn’t all blissful. However, I did survive the walk. Now back to the yard. What could go wrong?

 Grass is like a beard, eventually it will grow on you

The grass is high and I kind of wish I was too. I decide to start to cut the grass and pass on smoking it.  Although that might have help me tune out the aerial assault that was about to happen. The first lap was effortless but with the second lap came the migration of barn swallows. Luckily, it was cold day, and the bees where not interested in fun with wings part two. I convinced myself that they're just protecting their territory. I guess my territory was in the house and that didn't include the yard. There are many trees in my yard and, in those trees many nests and many birds with a chirp in their voice and a chip on their shoulders. There I was letting them be, but they were not letting me be. I must admit a few of the dive bombs that almost knocked my hat off made me yell "yeeha" like my John Deere was a horse. -kind of wished I had a whip. 

 Rake what? Heck no!!

When I finished cutting the grass I looked at the hay field and I was contemplating taking the grass sweeper for a ride to collect it. Instead, I said a prayer. Dear God, please let mother nature take it away.  The job was done. I held a mug of coffee to warm my frozen hands, and I sat looking out my living room window. The lawn was littered with mounds of clippings and black birds. I guess some days are just for the birds. 

 

Maybe I'll go out and do some weeding. Nope!!!


P.S. the cartoonist Denny D is me. Any similarity is purely accidental. 

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Humming

We have a rose of Sharon bush in front of our  living room window. Every year it attracts humingbirds. Now the blooms are bursting with color. I patiently waited for this little guy to return.  Expectation and joy brings colors to life. The fluttering of wings, the souls delight.  To savor the nectar of a the new day. That is just the hummingbirds way.
Post a Comment
Read more

A pane in the glass

One pane of glass. One red, white and blue basketball. And one frustrating day in the window repair business.    My father was very good at repairing windows. He had plenty of practice. Our backyard was our arena, our stadium and the scene of many sporting errors.  Who done it? It all started on our one-lane road.  Every homeowner could hear the crack of the bat and then the smash of a ball. Where it came from, no one knew. We split, leaving the bat suspended just above the dust cloud. Not a kid in sight. Who done it was an unsolved mystery. All they could see was the weapon, the bat, the ball and the glass now littering the living room floor. Opps Things were different in our backyard. A wayward slapshot way upstairs. Crash. A change-up and a foul tip. Smash. Today's error: a basketball. A hook shot, nothing but air and glass. Bang. Shortly after the initial impact we heard something else, my father cuss "Friggin Kids" It was the only f word my dad was all...
Post a Comment
Read more

Teachers Toast

One class I wasn't a big fan of was Home Ec. I had already learned most of what I needed to know from my mother and my sisters. Mr. Long, our teacher and chef, is dressed in white, from his paper chef's hat down to his shoes. He has two prominent features: a  Fu Manchu moustache and a wandering eye. For that reason (not knowing which one to look into), I never engaged in conversation.  Today's lesson is breakfast preparation. Some kids are across the hall, setting up the teacher lounge for breakfast. Every place setting is decorated meticulously. There is a huge coffee urn gurgling in the corner. Teachers are hovering, waiting for their morning elixir.   I am in the kitchen learning how to paint lightly browned Texas toast with butter. Every slice has a round circle of yellow that never seems to reach the edges, stacked on a plate. I never understood why they gave us a paintbrush instead of a knife. I found this unacceptable. I have never spread my favourite spreadables t...
Post a Comment
Read more