It's early morning hours.
I'm not quite awake.
Warm coffee in hand. My sore hand, a little tight and swollen.
The flint striker didn't stand a chance against my determination.
I used my new toy for the first time yesterday.
The verdict is still out on if it's going to be the right tool for the job.
I'm going on my third summer here at Birdhaven. I've left the plants to their own designs, mostly due to my reluctance to use poisons to control overgrowth.
The plants, they're smarter than me, I don't see them wasting time questioning who they are and why they're here. They live, die and are reborn with the seasons. The bird's eat the berries the squirrel's eat the seeds, what goes in must come out, and new plants emerge.
The people who lived here before me, they brought in those beautiful hanging baskets with the multitudes of nursery raised flowers and greens that spill luxuriously over the edges and for forty dollars a pop makes it look like you are mother earth herself .... well you know what happens when Fall comes around, and the only thing left living in those dozen or so baskets is a cute little dead nettle plant.
Well, they've all hopped ship and have taken over all corners of this acre. Mounds of dead nettle have taken over the eastern side of the house, the whole hillside near the well, hopping creek banks, climbing rhododendrons, the last straw was the raspberry beds. I love Raspberries! I had to decide what to do. This is my solution.
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