My apologies, that should be “hoe” not “ho.” I haven’t started socializing with prostitutes. Yet.
Happy Earth Day! Now that my weekend with the real hos is over, I can turn my focus back to spring. I do love spring. I mean c’mon, spring is my middle name! (No really, honest-to-God, my middle name is Spring. It’s my mother’s maiden name. So THERE.)
In my vamped up, slightly psychotic, hyperactive excitement gearing up to my weekend in Austin, I missed out on a lot of the transformations. Like I mentioned before, its not like I’ve never seen spring, or that this exact same thing won’t happen next year, but I do love watching my daffodils shove their way to the fresh air and open their pretty faces to the sun. It’s alright, there’s still plenty of stuff happening!
Today was unbelievably gorgeous. I decided that today was the day to investigate The Garden. My landlords are going on a two-month Alaska adventure this summer and are thus not planting a garden. So instead of starting fresh on a brand new garden of my own, I get to take over theirs! I really didn’t expect much to be out there from last year, so I was stoked at all we found.
It was hard to tell what was originally planted, despite the little markers. We did find the strawberries and scallions, so we started there. Once I was down in the dirt, the whole game changed.
I waged war.
I took my scary and intimidating arsenal of weapons of mass destruction and started blazing a path of death and destruction. My guys were in there, struggling for life, and it was my job to save them. There were massive casualties. Weeds of all kinds flew through the air, grasses were uprooted and ripped from the ground, grubs were slain left and right. It was a dirty job, but I pushed on.
I won’t lie to you, I was unable to save all of my hostages. A few perished in the chaos. Most were cleared of all enemies and left to continue their duty but a few were ready to come home.
I suffered my own share of injuries. I’ve gone all soft over the winter. My hands and now blistered and bruised, the fingernails chipped and filthy. My knees are sore and achy from kneeling and crouching, unaccustomed to such brutal work. The worst, oh the worst, is the work of that wonderful sunshine. Despite having the sense to go back in the house and apply my
sunscreen body armor, the sun still found a place to strike. While bending to mortally stab my vicious enemy, the sun got me right in the back, at an opening between my tank top and my jeans. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, I have suffered a Plumbers Burn. Frightful injury. Fear not, I’ll pull through. I’m a strong one.
I finally called it a day, but not before snapping a few shots of the battlefield. I now have new purpose, and a new distraction for my lunch breaks. They shall not win!
It seems “fresh and local” is all the buzz right now. Guess it doesn’t get much more fresh or local than this! Yay!