Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary, How Does Your Garden Grow?

Jane, Jane, Quite Plain, How Does Your Garden Grow? See that bag? It's as tall as my armpit. And that blue container? It's a garbage can, not a bucket. That's how many weeds Drew and I pulled out of the area (say 2 feet by 6 feet) in front of the living room window.

Can we talk?
HOLY COW are the weeds ever flourishing at my place. It must be the steriods in the soil, because, my word, they grow This High overnight.

(I know, I know. In the time it took for me to take the picture, download it onto the computer and upload it onto blogger, I coulda pulled the dumb things.)

The weeds. They are taking over. They're growing. Like weeds.

So far this season, I've sat in my backyard once, for 2 hours, to read.

So far this season, I've spent 17 hours in my backyard, weeding.

My window boxes and terra cotta pots with all those 50% off geraniums? Look like crap. I almost used the sh word. They are likely not going to live to see August.

Why is that?

And why do I have a big old dead patch of grass, right in the centre of my front yard for all the world to see?

I water.
Fertilize.
Air-rate. (However that is spelled...)

Still. I get DEAD.




And not only is the grass withering, the boulevard tree is dropping leaves like it's Thanksgiving.
My tree. Above.
My neighbours tree (a few feet away from mine). Below.




I think I should move into a condo.

Three things I'm thankful for:
1. A week of rain expected. I can prepare for Creationfest without feeling torn about tanning.
2. Drew attacked another patch of garden tonight wearing work gloves and holding a sharp weapon.
3. I have a 'made' bed to crawl into tonight. :)

Shalom,