Regardless of one’s age, every male has this childhood affinity towards piles of dirt, sand, gravel, mulch, and rock…right? And, oh boy, if they’re found all in the same area, well…let’s just say give me a Tonka truck for crying out loud and leave me alone for the next couple hours.
This poor guy. He had about 3 acres to fertilize…with that itty bitty walk-behind flinger spreader thing. He was just getting started – maybe I should have brought him a jug of water or something (or a strap to hold his hat on his head).
Bear with my whining for a minute: my Father’s Day gift is still being felt, but not appreciated. The elbow remains hot to the touch, red, swollen, hardened, and itchy (and no, that’s not entirely a farmer’s tan I have working there). 4 or 5 wasps greeted me last Sunday with a stinging gift during my routine gardening therapy session. But now, hehehehe, that hornet’s nest is dead. In fact it’s way dead. No, better yet, I’d say it’s really really dead…as is the shrub the nest was hanging in, and the ground cover plants under the shrub. It’s amazing what all 2 spray cans of wasp-killer can kill….

 

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