"if it's good news, it must be someone else's"

Monday, August 3, 2009

943. the garden is safe for now

i tell ya, i hate crabgrass.
hate it.
hate is a strong word, i know, but it isn't strong enough in this case.
i hater it.
i hatest it.
it's takin' over like some sort of republican socialism fear, if such a thing were green and weedy.
it's starting to choke the chili peppers.
nothing messes with chili peppers.
why just the other day i saw a chipmunk running around spitting fire out its mouth.
haven't seen the rat bastard since.
but this god forsaken crabgrass has no fear.
it's like a freakin' green leafy samurai.

well if it's anything, it's war i tell ya!

first i thought i might use chemical weapons.
i have a cache that i've been storing up for such an occasion.
go ahead, call me the saddam of gardening.
don't really care.
heard a lot worse—some even by so-called friends of cranelegs pond.
anyway, i was all positioned.
everything was in place: mask, gloves, boots, protective overalls, goggles, cup.
and i was pumping the poison dispenser real good.
but noooo ... i was stopped by the dictator that runs this place, who will remain nameless (hint: rhymes with "feet on").
"it might get in the water and turn what few vegetables we're growing into ... well ... into inedible birthers of some sort."
nothin' for nothin', the dictator, well she's a little fiery about certain affiliations.

the bottom line, i had to store the chemicals for another day when inedible birthers might be the only option.
and let me tell ya that stinks because you just can't cut the damn things down or torch them.
they'll grow back thicker, and chokier, and more dug in than ever.
you have to pull them out with their roots attached or you might just as well say goodbye tomatoes.

but they weren't betting on the fierceness that roars in this first time garden keeper's heart.
i pulled them all up ya see.
hundreds of those little pugnacious plugs.
one by one.
inch by inch.
my fingernails torn asunder by dirt and gravel and god knows what really.
and now they are all gone.
and the crabgrass too!

for the time being, there will be no chokage in the cranelegs garden.
the chilies are safe again to deter the little vermin sneaking in under the cloak of darkness.
meanwhile, i await like ulysses in an arugula patch for the inevitable showdown with the deer.
they're gathering like storm clouds in the distant, black horizon.
i feel them.
it's only a matter of time my friends.

oh ... they're coming!
and i will be ready.


Pam said...

Want some horse pucky? It kills crabgrass and nourishes the vegetables, flowers, and real grass. I don't know how it works, but it does. Horse pucky is discriminating in its quest to do the right thing.

itsmecissy said...

You and my husband need to talk.