28 March 2010

Dragon Ass...

Too Tarred To Spell It Right, Even...

Really, folks, I only weigh about a buck sixty-five in the first place; I ain't gotta lotta arse to sweat off. But it seems someome forgot to tell the Father Chronos in charge of the last few days...

The physical labor has been right about par-- I've double-dug another bed the last two days--

this one wider and longer than the previous ones. I'll accept the aches and pains of hours on end verking a pitchfork into compact clay better than twelve inches BELOW YOUR FOOT-LEVEL... Accept it as a great workout for my lower back, or my chiropractors' job security. Whichever...

The mental labour is taking it's toll, though. That streams from putting tomatoes out too early; waking at oh-godthirty to see if sunshine is peeking through-- or even stands a chance; wondering if months' worth of labor will end in naughta fruit nor veggie...

This morning's mental stress call added a "who-dun-it?"-- some pots, flowering bushes, and trimed branches [awaiting carving and whittlin' for various artsy-fartsy schtuffs] were spread all across the yard-- not of their own accord, them being inanimate objects...

Deer? 'Coons?? Feral Kitties?!?

The neighbors' dogs were immediate suspects, and proved culprits. Whilst Flower stood on [one of] their porch[es], trying to wax kind, the pooches [one staying at the others' yard for a canine slumber party (apparently a regular thingie with the two bastards) {hey, I'm with Clinton for once: "don't ask..."}] shot out of an open backyard fence. I immediately branded open pocket knife and gave verbal warning, having enough shiite for the hour. The neighbor took note, profusely apologizing. [Yeah? Apologive me four bucks for some lettuce, wouldja?!!?]

Anyhow, I finished right about dusk with some transplanting to a better soil-based medium than I'd previously tried [cloying and compaction resulted in the need for peat moss and vermiculite to be added to the mix]. Right about three minutes after that, I seem incoherent.

I'z tarred. I'z goin' to the arms of Morpheus, folks...

[Put strawberries and cucumbers 'neath the mailbox trellis this eve...]

[A hand-made trellis, from tree trimmings and yarn, put to the peas...]


Slainte.

Cygnus

8 comments:

Livia Indica said...

Sorry things are buggin' you. That's one of the joys(?) of spring.

Livia Indica said...

By the way, I dig your subtitle.

Cygnus MacLlyr said...

It's a curse, Liv... I was born to grow, and given the paitence of a two-years-old!!!

Thanks! Subtitles oft are more fun and revealing...

Felinae said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Momlady said...

I know how kind K can be, but when it means food on the table don't be. I've offered to buy a BB pistol but a slingshot would work as well. Also, a squirt gun with vinegar and water in it would work well. In the meantime go ahead and call Animal Control.

Pearl said...

You're a good month ahead of me, Cygnus, but can't wait to get my hands in the soil!

Pearl

p.s. Love the hand-wrought trellis. :-) My mother made one last year, bending the branches into a heart shape. Very sweet in a rustic sort of way!

Beth said...

The trellis is really nice. I always enjoy seeing the pictures...your homeplace looks so beautiful! Keep up the good work as I know you always find a way to work things out for the better (yours). Love you!!

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