I have successfully made it to mid-week and a little beyond. More precisely, I am 60% done with my workweek. It is time to start making the list of all of the things that I’ll say I’m going to do this weekend, but end up not doing.
For instance, I need to put down some weed-n-feed in the front yard to send a strong message to the dandelions that they’re not welcome here, while at the same time sending an engraved invitation to the St. Augustine grass to please stop by at its earliest convenience and to stay as long as it likes. So far, the grass is being fashionably late. In fact, if it were a goldfish, it would be floating upside down at the top of the fishbowl and I would be rubbing my eyes with my fists and saying things like, “But it’s just sleeping, isn’t it?”
The trees are all doing well so far. In fact, I noticed a redbud in the back yard that I did not know I had. Welcome to the neighborhood, little buddy. You’re welcome here as long you keep making those pretty red blooms. Once the blooms are gone … well … we’ll just have to see.
The crepe myrtles are creating snowdrifts of their pollen or blooms or whatever that stuff is. And, like real snow, it’s pretty at first, but quickly becomes annoying when it gets wet or turns brown or gets into places where you prefer drifts of crepe myrtle pollen not be.
So, yes, everything is blooming. And those are just the plants that I can identify! There is a veritable Garden of Eden in my back and front yards, assuming the Garden of Eden was filled with flora (a latin word meaning weeds) that is native to Texas. And why wouldn’t it have been? Did not God say to Adam and Eve after the unfortunate Apple incident:
“Cursed is the ground because of you;
blah blah blah …
It will produce thorns and thistles for you”
Hey, if that doesn’t describe land in Texas, nothing does!