I have officially resigned myself to the fact that me and the weed eater will never get along.
This morning, I headed outside to cut the front yard. It's been beyond hot, so I had put off the front for a couple of days now since it's the location where I have to be the most clothed. You know, so as not to frighten small children and passers by. I was delighted to hear David ask, "Mama, can I cut some?" Oh, absolutely, my darling. And today, I won't even demand the rows be straight.
So, I cut around the perimeter and of the yard and the big oak tree and got him started. I decided, "Why loaf?" I pulled out that pesky weed eater that had been taunting me for two weeks now.
I read the instructions, got it cranked, and started on my merry little way. I just don't have a feel for what I'm supposed to so with the darn thing. I've never observed someone in action closely enough I guess. And within a minute - literally, I hadn't had it cranked any longer than 60 seconds - something popped me in the leg. And, when I say something, I mean something big enough to leave a small gash and nearly knock the breath out of me. I let off the trigger and tried to walk it off. I finally decided I should quit while ahead - you know, before I pop myself in the eye or maim one of the children.
Anyway - David cut as much as he could, and I finished up and blew the grass clippings and watered my little baby azaleas. And now I am thoroughly whipped.
The grass looks fantastic, though, if I do say so myself. Seems crazy that just a few short weeks ago it was still trying to push its way through and green up. Now it's like a lush green carpet. And it's growing and growing and growing.
Even though yard work isn't at the top of my list of things to do, it is definitely satisfying to step back and look at what you've accomplished. Kinda like vacuuming. Or cleaning a toilet. There's always a noticeable improvement.
So, I am done with the weed eating attempts. I think. I would have liked to have better results, but no such luck. I would have liked to be able to take that chore away from my husband, especially right now where time off is so limited and usually spent at the ball park, but no success for me today. Maybe I'll be up for round three in the future. Or, maybe not.