Poor Biff’s Almanac — Sunday Night Edition

Poor Biff's Almanac Graphic (Colored) #1


Is it just me, or do Sunday nights always appear out of nowhere and scare the bejeebers out of us?

There we are, sitting quietly, perhaps humming a little tune to ourselves, enjoying the sounds of birds singing, the sights of birds and squirrels and butterflies frolicking in the garden, and maybe sighing contentedly and thinking what a lovely day it is.

Then … suddenly … from out of nowhere … BOOM!

It is Sunday night and time to start dreading the fast-approaching workday.

But at least it was a good weekend, so even though Sunday may have gotten the drop on me, it found me relatively content at the amount of things I’ve been able to accomplish.  If my back could talk, it would be pushing me out of the way right now and shouting, “Don’t listen to him!  It was awful!”

So, it’s a good thing backs can’t talk.  I will not tolerate any back talk!

You might remember from yesterday’s exciting post that I had started the task of de-thatching my lawn armed with nothing but my arms and a de-thatching rake.  Well, I continued that task today.  Apparently I did not get as much accomplished yesterday as I thought I had, for I felt that I did 10 times as much de-thatching today as I did yesterday.   But at long last, after many hours in the sun, I got it all finished.  I filled up 12 large lawn bags full of thatch!  I don’t know for certain, but I’m pretty sure that is a neighborhood record.  Maybe even a world record.

Because no one else in the world is stupid enough to de-thatch their lawn with only a de-thatching rake.

So now my yards are about 30% live grass and about 70% bare earth.  But at least now the living grass can spread and flourish and actually find soil to put down roots in.  To encourage this behavior, I put down some fertilizer and watered it in.  Given how thick the thatch was that I pulled up, this may be the first fertilizer that has ever actually come into contact with the soil on my property.

After that, I turned my attentions to a scruffy looking pomegranate bush (tree?).  It was here when I bought the house and though I’ve never actually eaten any of the pomegranates it produces, it is a free and self-sustaining bird feeder.  And the lovely saffron blossoms are a definite plus.

Pomegranate trees are apparently a youth-based tree, for older trunks die and turn black and look like something out of a horror movie.  To counteract that, there is a constant wave of new growth springing up around these older, horrific looking dead trunks.

Therefore, the trick is to get in to the middle of the bush (tree?) and take out the dead trunks without doing any damage to the new growth that surrounds the dead trunks like a bamboo fence.  I managed to do it, but I was cursing pomegranates to heck the whole while.  The pomegranate, offended at my muttering and grumbling, reminded me on more than one occasion that he has some pretty serious inch-long thorns that can easily puncture leather work gloves.

Eventually, after all of this de-thatching and felling of mighty pomegranate trees and lugging into the back alleyway, I was kaput.  I wasn’t fit to shoot.

I am, however, fit enough to return to work tomorrow because I am running dangerously low on vacation days and can’t afford the time off.

I can suffer through sore muscles at my work desk just as easily as I can in my easy chair at home.

I hope you all had a wonderful weekend!


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