I have been working to clear out my "back forty." Which is really a couple thousand square feet which I also refer to as "the lower meadow." This has been hard physical labor to clear out the years of weeds, vines, brambles and and garbage from the neighbors.
I've been pushing myself hard to plow through it. And I'm still trying to figure out how to actually till it when I get it to that point. In the mean time, I've been using hand saws, blades, scythe, mower and pure frustrated strength to pull, hack and chop my way through.
The other night after work, I was out there again with the mower running over some areas that is mainly dead creeping vines. I kept thinking of the flax and cotton I would plant. The area where I would plant my dye garden and the area that will get the medicinal plants. Echinacea, Valerian, etc.. I was very caught up in my plant and fiber dreams. I was suddenly wrenched from ideal thoughts by a huge BOOM!!!!
Uh-Oh. I went in to my standard process for when things like this happening. I don't even need to think about it anymore. 1. Jump back as far as possible while letting go off all equipment. (when in doubt, let it out) 2. watch for fire, sparks and smoke 3. asses if equipment is posessed and will continue on it's merry way unmanned. 4. slowly approach like you would a wounded tiger 5. poke with foot. I don't know why, but this always seems smart to do. 6. All Clear is given 7. truly see what the damage is.
In this case, the vines had completely grown over a soccer ball many years ago. The mower had just popped it.
I think it's time to call it a day. The fiber dreams will be there tomorrow.
Showing posts with label cotton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cotton. Show all posts
Monday, April 19, 2010
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Spring is here!
Spring is here and it is official. Do you know how I know? I had to mow the lawn.
All up and down my street today, the residents in my fair little shire broke out the hats and sunscreen. Grabbed the keys to the shed, and dusted off ye ol' lawn mower. Across the realm could be heard the sweet buzzing of bees, the chirping of birdies and the whirl of mowers and trimmers. You could smell the fresh cut grass and almost taste the victory lemonade.
And then there was my house. The sounds of which should not be repeated. But I will confess to swearing in three different languages and would have added more had I known them. My mower would not start. After extensive kicking an cussing, and with the help of a nail file, I got it started, mowed the frippin' grass, locked the damn thing back in the shed until next week and headed in to take a shower and cool down and recompose.
Better, yes? Birdies are chirping again, the windows are open and the cat looks dreamily out at the aforementioned birdies. Ahh. Then I pick up my knitting.
On the needles I have : one lace stole, three 2nd socks, a tank top out of sock weight aptly named "frogged camisole", a tweed sweater 3 sizes too large, an albatross for my sister she will get when she's 80, and the beginning of another tank in 100% cotton, because I want to see if it works before wasting good yarn on the pattern.
If you are not a knitter, you may not understand the list. You might say something silly like, why so many projects? If you knit, you understand and groan in sympathy. All are time consuming pains in the a$$ that are currently ranking with the lawn mower.
My solution? Make lemonade, eat ice cram and ignore knitting until next weekend. Then put knitting and Mower in the "Rabbit Cage o Rage" and see which one comes out in the end. That or the garden which needs to be plowed eats them both.
Brilliant, yes?
All up and down my street today, the residents in my fair little shire broke out the hats and sunscreen. Grabbed the keys to the shed, and dusted off ye ol' lawn mower. Across the realm could be heard the sweet buzzing of bees, the chirping of birdies and the whirl of mowers and trimmers. You could smell the fresh cut grass and almost taste the victory lemonade.
And then there was my house. The sounds of which should not be repeated. But I will confess to swearing in three different languages and would have added more had I known them. My mower would not start. After extensive kicking an cussing, and with the help of a nail file, I got it started, mowed the frippin' grass, locked the damn thing back in the shed until next week and headed in to take a shower and cool down and recompose.
Better, yes? Birdies are chirping again, the windows are open and the cat looks dreamily out at the aforementioned birdies. Ahh. Then I pick up my knitting.
On the needles I have : one lace stole, three 2nd socks, a tank top out of sock weight aptly named "frogged camisole", a tweed sweater 3 sizes too large, an albatross for my sister she will get when she's 80, and the beginning of another tank in 100% cotton, because I want to see if it works before wasting good yarn on the pattern.
If you are not a knitter, you may not understand the list. You might say something silly like, why so many projects? If you knit, you understand and groan in sympathy. All are time consuming pains in the a$$ that are currently ranking with the lawn mower.
My solution? Make lemonade, eat ice cram and ignore knitting until next weekend. Then put knitting and Mower in the "Rabbit Cage o Rage" and see which one comes out in the end. That or the garden which needs to be plowed eats them both.
Brilliant, yes?
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