I Lost The Battle. Again.

Every spring, I get delusions of grandeur. Yard grandeur, that is. I envision beautiful flower gardens, a perfectly manicured lawn, and a garden that will fill my shelves with bottles of food for the winter.

Yeah, right.

I always start out with a bang. I planted the garden. I mowed, edged, trimmed, and weeded. Things looked fantastic.

Until July.

That's the point of the summer where I always just start to fizzle.

Take this year, for example.

My beautiful lawn definitely enjoyed the luxury of regular watering which came with the new sprinkling system. Enjoyed it so much that I had to mow it twice as much as usual. Enjoyed it so much, that it invited a whole bunch of thick, gross weed-friends to come live here too. (I'm not kidding-- these weeds are so thick that they stall out my lawn mower when I go over them.)

Speaking of my lawn mower, I think that dumb thing has had it with summer too.

After losing one of my children as he waded through the grass this morning on the way to school, I decided it was time to mow. When I start up the trusty Ranch King, he starts making a HORRIBLE racket. (Sorry to my neighbors. And to the residents of surrounding states.) Seriously-- this was BAD.

I open up the hood and find that the muffler has detached itself on one side. I get my pink tool set and get to work. Two burned fingers (Dang! That thing's hot!) and a FEW (ahem!) bad words later, I think I have it fixed. I mow the front and half of the back before I hear the bad sound again. This time, come hell or high water, I'm finishing the lawn.

I'm hoping to recover my hearing (and the goodwill of anyone who lives within a 5 mile radius) tomorrow.

I didn't edge.

I didn't blow.

(I did find a heck of a lot of dog poop that was much too small to be from my dog. If it belongs to you, PLEASE come get it.)

As for my garden, it's been disappointing too.

"Big Boy" tomatoes the size of small prunes. (Have to cut 4 of them to make a sandwich.) Earwigs in my corn. 4 tiny pumpkins. Cucumbers that look like feet.

Ahhh, but the good old zucchini. Is there a category for biggest zucchini at the state fair? I have one out there that I may carve into a canoe next week.

I don't like the cold, but I have to say, I am looking forward to a blanket of white to cover my pitiful excuse of a yard.

I surrender.

Again.

Until next April, that is...