Garden Fun

Now that the spousal unit has completed school we decided to once again put a garden in the backyard. That’s one of the reasons posting has been quite light this past month. Getting the garden going was a lot tougher than we anticipated. The patch of ground we normally use was infested by Satans own weed. Bermuda Grass. I have  lived in places where they grow real grass as opposed to this desert hellhole where they actually plant Bermuda grass lawns.

Bermuda grass is a weed. A nasty conundrum of tangles that reminds me of Medusa’s hair. You pull one part up and in the process break the roots causing it to grow back tenfold from where you started. We did find some great grass killer but it takes forever to work and the store was out of the stuff when we were there to buy more. We decided to water the Bermuda grass with Roundup. After five applications and having ignored the mixing instructions for the last application the devils weed finally started to show signs of wilting. I used the super concentrated Roundup and mixed it at almost four times the recommended concentration. I swear anything less than that and the damn grass feeds off the stuff.

Why on gods brown desert do people plant Bermuda grass lawns. It baffles the mind of anyone who remembers real grass. For that matter we are still in a drought here so why would you plant a lawn in the middle of the desert anyway? I don’t have a lawn I have desert landscaping with a few trees and desert rocks. Every other neighbor on the block has grass. Bermuda grass. Go figure. Guess these misplanted cheese heads haven’t figured out that it’s a desert out there. Or maybe their one firing collective synapse is busy being used to figure out how to get out of the round-about at Happy valley road and I-17.

So we get the spot weeded and buy some descented poo to spread and mix into the soil. I get the wheelbarrow, turn it over and notice a spider web on the front wall next to the handles but inside the barrow itself. I take a close look to see what kind of spider it is and my suspicion is confirmed. It is a black widow spider. I don’t need the wheelbarrow for much so I just ignore her and figure she won’t bother me if I don’t bother her. I place two bags of processed poo in the front of the barrow away from the spider and successfully deliver them to the garden.

So far so good.

I go back to get the second two bags. As I’m attempting to set the next bag of pooie goodness into the wheelbarrow I lose my grip and drop it suddenly. It lands in the front of the wheelbarrow with a whoosh of air that dislodges the spider web causing it to travel up and back and sending it squarely into my face and hair. I’m now wearing a black widow web on my face and have no idea where momma spider has landed. As I dance frantically trying to wipe the web from my face and hair the spousal unit rounds the corner. She sees my antics and asks me if I can help her in the garden When I am done screwing around.

Momma spider is never found which I am not sure is a good thing or a bad thing.

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