I spent all day outside working in the garden and have nearly nothing to show for it. I cleared 4.2 square feet of dirt free from invasive violets, star of bethlehem, and deadly nightshade. I heard the weeds further down the bed laughing at me in my futile attempt to stop their march to dominate the world. Copious amounts of gasoline and fire started sounding like an awfully attractive eradication method (Wendy, I blame your husband for planting this idea into my head), but alas, these weeds were growing practically out of the very foundation of my house.
Feeling discouraged, I finally realized that I am going about this all wrong – instead of hand-weeding about as fast as a tortoise, I’m going to buy a tortoise, slap a shock collar on him, and install an invisible fence. He can live outside all summer and I’ll train him to eat only the stuff we don’t like. It’ll be like having one of those lawn-mowing robots but for weeds. And the boys can ride him. Double bonus.
So then, as I was heading inside after my long, unproductive day, I made the mistake of wandering past the site of the Devil’s Walkingstick that Kyle destroyed last summer. It is BACK. And it is pissed that we tried to kill it. There are now 7 separate trees clawing their way towards my house, spitting thorns of death, intent on our annihilation. I’m giving up on that one. It’s obviously going to eat our house no matter what we do. So I guess the tortoise training wouldn’t be worth the effort.