Antsy with the rain to see the sun again. Mood so weathered by the weather now rebels. Growth is calling to be cut: hedges trimmed, bushes pruned, branches sawn. Weeds need pulling too, but I am in the noisy mood of the mechanical, and I’ve never yet heard an ouch of protest from a patch of even the most defiant crabgrass.
He wants to come with me tomorrow early morning, to trim the hedges where the poison ivy plays. To mow the edges, whack the weeds with plastic strings that sting your ankles if you forgot to wear your socks. Reminding me that I have cut two heavy duty extension cords and an antenna wire, so focused on the rounding of a yew. A finger once with pruning sheers on twigs of lilac trees.
He wants to help, he says, but I know better. My lovely little Black & Decker electric chainsaw is on my mind, and his.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Sawn??? Hehehe…
Jason }:)
Just here to say hello… and sip my lemonade.
Yep, “sawn.” Veddy British, you know. Thought you caught me, didn’t ‘cha, Jason?
Hi Anne, drop by anytime. I’m crawling out of depression into strange so it should be more fun around here!