The Sweat of Your Brow

Something weird happened today.  The sun was shining, the mercury was between 55 and 60 degrees, there was no wind, no snow or precipitation in view and it was conducive to accomplishing something in the yard.  I went out behind the shed and began to tame the beast that has been growing there for at least two years.  There was a literal “forest” of volunteer trees running in diameter from that of my small finger to that of my big toe.  I cut them down and will chip them for mulch at a later date.  Next was the pair of overgrown and hopelessly tangled grapevines.  They produce concord grapes every year but between the birds and the “out of sight, out of mind” syndrome we never get back there to harvest them.  As of today, they are no longer resident on our property; their existence being reduced to a small pile of sticks suitable for kindling fires.  Pulling the metal fence posts that supported them was a greater challenge.  The ground just did not want to give up easily.  I pulled 4 and gave up on three others.  Plans for my next trip to the backside of the shed include moving the hulking pile of brush and garden waste to a more convenient spot where it continue to decay, return to the earth and provide sustenance for more volunteer trees that will have to be cut down and chipped for mulch.

It was a good workout and as I sat resting upon its completion I thought to myself, “Thanks, Adam! …. NOT!”