Yesterday I spent a good portion of the day doing battle with a contingent of honeysuckle and bramble vines that had invaded a stretch of fencing I was trying to remove from a now little-used patch of our property.
Many of the vines were inexperienced, but what they lacked in tenacity they made up for in numbers. And their base was protected by a thick layer of dead leaves blown against the fencing. I cautiously probed with pruners (for there was a threat of Copperheads lurking there), slicing and snipping the myriad vinelings to free the bottom of the fencing.
Some vines were more experienced and tenacious, but with a proper concentration of force my pruners handled them. A few were battle-hardened veterans. These sent me trekking across the property to bring in my heavy loppers. Even these stalwart defenders fell when such powerful weaponry was brought to bear.
In the end, though scratched bloody and soaked with sweat (which stings in those injuries) I victoriously dragged that length of fencing out of the battlefield where I could clean as much of the plant life from it as possible and roll it up for use elsewhere. As I put away my implements of war I was weary but satisfied in a battle well fought – and won.
This morning I find that insidious agents dispatched by the enemy Bureau of Pollination have infiltrated my sinuses and are engaged in combat with my mucous linings. In addition my upper legs, hips, and lower back are staging a revolt for the abuses they suffered yesterday. But, such are the wages of warfare. I shall placate my rebels with drugs until they forget the abuses they suffered and resume their normal functions.
The battle was won. The way is open to bringing my riding mower in to quell the attempted overthrow of that area by the indigenous species, which are attempting to re-take that sector of property for their own. That must not happen, shall not happen. That sector will remain under my control. I must see to that for the good of the empire!
Have I mentioned lately how much I dislike the telephone? This is not a phobia or even anxiety over the use of a phone, and not aimed at any version of the telecommunications device in particular. It’s a dislike of the device in general.
old Poulon Pro that hasn’t needed anything more that the usual maintenance and upkeep until this year. I have replaced several major parts on it lately and it continues to find new and inventive ways to avoid doing its job. I’ve considered taking it to a repair shop to have it “rebuilt” but with their labor rates and parts prices, replacing it will (most likely) be cheaper. This is not an expensive trimmer.
