If only they weren’t weeds
Yesterday was a beautiful warm day, so I thought I’d do something helpful AND be outside. Yesterday was the day I would pull up dandelions. And then I went outside and really looked. Guys, we have SO many dandelions. Acres of dandelions. Endless seas of dandelions. Dandelions as far as the eye can see.
I started in the far corner of the yard, with Jack nearby, our portable speaker in his hands playing Sesame Street songs. He was as not interested in pulling up dandelions or playing in the dirt as you can possibly be and still be breathing, so my dandelion-pulling was interrupted by chasing after him – he headed for the street by way of the neighbor’s yard, he headed for the playset by way of the woods where poison ivy is probably making a comeback, and he headed for John who was in the driveway feeding branches to the chipper. I felt like a sheepdog.
I went back to it while Jack was napping, shifting my focus to the front of the house where at least someone (me) would see the improvement, and I was able to make a dent before I gave up for the day. There’s a very clear swath of dandelion-free grass.
Tomorrow will be when I realize how much I missed.