Death By Shrubbrey

I'm relatively certain that the Garden of Eden message to do all that soil tilling and probably shrub trimming was aimed directly to Man Adam. It surely wasn't meant to be Woman's Work.

Actually, I have a definition for 'Woman's Work' that suits me just fine: Anything that I don't want to do.


The problem is that Man Adam is nowhere to be seen. I can't find him for anything, and he certainly isn't hanging about in any garden.... or yard for that matter. At least not that I can find him. So, I gave up this morning. I finally faced the dire fact that I was going to have to assume responsibility for the shrubbery gone wild in my front yard. Son Right Back isn't much of a help in that department either, even if he does qualify for the Man part. Nope... he is pretty scarce these days, and his allergies would kill him anyway with a snoot full of holly pollen or whatever up his nose.

The above is my pile of limbs from my first attack of the holly shrubs. I've been at it for awhile and just had to come in and rest up. I was dripping wet from the exercise, so came in once in awhile to rehydrate and collapse into the chair. A good fifteen minutes of rest and I was back at it again.

I have serious issues with these shrubs. They are out of control and have been for years. It isn't that I've completely ignored them in the past, but I will confess that they didn't get the best of care while under my supervision. So, here we are, and something has to be done....even if it is wrong.

It may not be the right time of year to be hacking away on them, but at this point, I don't care. They are going to be trimmed, and it is going to be up to them if they live or die. That's just the way I feel about it.

Actually, I'm trying to give them a chance to heal from this calculated assault on them. I figured that they have a bit of time left before the snow flies and the ice forms on their leaves. They have some nice warm days left, and they had best use the time wisely to adjust.

I'm writing this blog as a bit of avoidance technique. You see, I have the other shrub to do as well. Then there is the bagging all the mess that you saw lying on the ground. Plus, there will be more off this side.

You do realize that holly is an ouchy little shrub. I put on the gloves I found handy, but they are those little cotton gloves sold in the yard aisle in the department store. I'm thinking somewhere in my little craft building I should have something leather. Leather would be better. Those nasty little holly ouchies stick the dickens out of me.

Yep, I'm thinking that darned Man Adam should be here for the show. That doesn't seem likely, so I believe I need staff. That doesn't seem likely either. I'm not good at facing the fact that the only one who cares one bit about this is me. It is me and me alone. Drat and all.

If I do survive and manage to get this outside mess straightened out and in hand, I'll probably be singing a different tune. Then I'll be so proud of my efforts and I'll be bragging about what wonderful work I've done in the yard. That would be just like me.

If not, perhaps someone will think to write on my tombstone: 'Death By Shrubbery'
Tah Dah!