That Time I Saved the Neighborhood
We have new neighbors next door. They're a nice young couple. It's their first house, so they haven't had time to collect the finer accoutrements of suburban living, like pruning sheers or a shovel. With fall coming on soon, they also haven't put much effort into sprucing up the neglected landscaping. I don't mind. My bushes need a trim too, and that's no euphemism.
There was one weed in particular growing in their side yard, right up against the house, that seemed very nasty. Actually, it looked like at any moment it would take the house hostage and begin making unreasonable demands. I should have taken a picture, but frankly I'm not sure it would show up in pictures. Like a vampire.
Until I got up close, I didn't fully realize its awfulness. It was about 6 feet tall and its base was as thick as my wrist. (I should mention I have delicate, dainty, not-weed-like wrists.) This thing had tiers of leaves coming off it like a hideous, green, hairy wedding cake. It was covered in what looked like small unopened dandelion flowers. There's a strong possibility it was carnivorous. At night I thought I could hear it whine, "Feed me, Seymour." After staring at it for a second, I began to worry for the small dogs in our neighborhood, as well as the Fat Bastard Squirrel who hangs out on our deck and demands more free bird seed. In retrospect, perhaps we could have sacrificed the squirrel to the weed in exchange for certain promises -- like the assurance that he would tell his ugly weed friends to stay out of our yard and away from our child.
Yesterday the Hubs was mowing the lawn, the kiddo was bubble-mowing the driveway, the neighbors were at work, and I decided to be a good neighbor and slay the weed on their behalf. I sliced right through it with my 10-inch pruning shears, then had to whack at the root that had attached itself out of spite to the landscaping fabric which was supposed to block weeds. It fell with a mighty, verdant thud. The amputated stem was juicy. Juicy. Seriously, the stuff of horror movies. Horticulture horror movies. (It's a genre, I bet. Look it up.)
I chopped it up into several smaller pieces so it couldn't reanimate overnight, and stuffed the carcass into a lawn refuse bag along with some salt because that's what Sam and Dean do on "Supernatural." Soon I will put the bag by the street, and the garbage men will bravely drag it away. I figure I'm a hero and my commendation from the HOA for saving us all is probably in the mail.
There was one weed in particular growing in their side yard, right up against the house, that seemed very nasty. Actually, it looked like at any moment it would take the house hostage and begin making unreasonable demands. I should have taken a picture, but frankly I'm not sure it would show up in pictures. Like a vampire.
Until I got up close, I didn't fully realize its awfulness. It was about 6 feet tall and its base was as thick as my wrist. (I should mention I have delicate, dainty, not-weed-like wrists.) This thing had tiers of leaves coming off it like a hideous, green, hairy wedding cake. It was covered in what looked like small unopened dandelion flowers. There's a strong possibility it was carnivorous. At night I thought I could hear it whine, "Feed me, Seymour." After staring at it for a second, I began to worry for the small dogs in our neighborhood, as well as the Fat Bastard Squirrel who hangs out on our deck and demands more free bird seed. In retrospect, perhaps we could have sacrificed the squirrel to the weed in exchange for certain promises -- like the assurance that he would tell his ugly weed friends to stay out of our yard and away from our child.
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| It looked like this, only worse. |
I chopped it up into several smaller pieces so it couldn't reanimate overnight, and stuffed the carcass into a lawn refuse bag along with some salt because that's what Sam and Dean do on "Supernatural." Soon I will put the bag by the street, and the garbage men will bravely drag it away. I figure I'm a hero and my commendation from the HOA for saving us all is probably in the mail.
I fully expect an invitation to the ceremony when you are given the keys to the city and are asked to cut the ribbon on the new weed exhibit at the Natural Science Museum.
ReplyDelete... with your trusty 10-inch pruning shears.
ReplyDeleteValiantly conquered, ma'am.