Post Cuttings – Spring Edition.
(transplanted and re-potted)
I search my lawn for insurgent weeds.
The situation is grave. The dandelions continue to advance, despite the hundreds I’ve already rooted out. I raise the alert level to red and prepare for a full-scale attack.
With plastic bag in hand, I move out and quickly spot a dandelion at ten o’clock. It has already turned white and is about to blow. It is a windy day. I have to act fast. I am battling a cunning enemy with a powerful coalition that includes Mother Nature and Poland.
My heart pumps furiously as I pounce and rip the evil-flower from the ground. Yet, there is no time for celebration. Dandelions are everywhere: at twelve o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock, and even eight-fifteen.
Time is short. Other days, time is tall when she wears three-inch heels. Today, time wears flats. Maybe I still have a chance if I can spot the dandelion general, who is cleverly disguised like one of his soldiers, and can only be identified by the caterpillar moustache he wears.
I clutch my bag and pray for the wind to subside. It gets worse. Praying has never really worked for me. So, I yell, “God help me,” instead, and race through the yard, swiping explosive dandelion heads from their stems before the wind scatters the tiny white cluster bombs across the lawn.
I stop by the center garden to take a breath. It is twelve-thirty and my work has only started. The dogs sit on the front stoop watching me. The white one appears sympathetic; the brown one is apoplectic. She likes eating dandelions. To her, they are a delicacy, a treat she can only have once a year, like Christmas. If only she could eat faster than the dandelions turn white. However, she doesn’t care for the seeds. They tickle her nose then float away onto the neighbor’s lawn.
I gauge my next line of attack. Time for the big guns. I grab the weed-whacker that leans against the house. When I turn it on, the white dog runs. The brown dog stays and continues glaring at me. She’ll never forgive me for this. “Sorry,” I say, and then turn to engage the enemy.
Some weed combatants are visible, standing tall, decoys I imagine, while others hide low in the grass. They are the most dangerous. If I can’t pinpoint their location today, by tomorrow they’ll most certainly be airborne.
I continue inflicting as much damage as possible until rain drenches my back. The dandelions suffer heavy casualties, but it’s still not enough. With Mother Nature and Poland on their side, the dandelions are a formidable foe.
I am forced to retreat to the kitchen to restock my supplies. I load up on garbage bags and bottled water then head out to the front to a blast of thunderclouds and a rapid-fire rain attack.
The dandelions have already brought in reinforcements. I’m outnumbered, outmaneuvered, and out-of-breath. The outlook looks dismal. I am but a coalition of one in my war against the evil-flowers.
I grab a bottle of Poland Spring to re-hydrate. After gulping it down, I stare at the label on the bottle and smile. With renewed energy, I march toward the dandelions and their coalition of three, hold up the empty bottle, and scream, “If I can’t have Poland, at least I can have Poland Spring.”
Do you have any gardening war stories?
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Hi Lauren, your posts never fail to amuse me and this was no different…You have a knack for making something as commonplace as weeding one's garden sound like an alien attack.
Time wearing heels…the best part and left me in splits!
So, the Gardening war came to an end! The general couldn't take the serious damage that was conflicted. Too bad, his "Caterpillar mustache" fell off!
I enjoyed this post…:)
Brilliant!!! I loved "caterpiller moustache" and I will never look at my weeds in the same way again.
LOl!
Oh my, my. You do realize that dandelions are used by the government to spy on us. I'm glad you worked so hard to tame them.
😉
I'm fighting with goat's head stickers. These evil creatures come in the "2% other" part of the grass seed I've been throwing out the past couple of years. These are what the dandelions send for as reinforcements.
You're so funny!
Last year we tried container gardening. But the pots we used were way too small so it was a huge waste of time and money.
You're hilarious! "Luckily" for us, nothing has started to grow yet, and in some places there's still snow on the ground. But I did see some coltsfoot the other day, so the dandelions are probably just gathering their forces and are getting ready to attack.
I love you Lauren. This is just the laugh I need today as I look out the window at the trees and debris scattered across my lawn along side the garbage that used to be neatly inside my now broken in half garbage bin. We had a huge bout of wind bursts that tore up this little valley. Funny though, the little tiny election sign in our yard for a lady running for magistrate still stands.
Jana: Thank you. I always appreciate the nice things you say about my writing.
Mr. S: I'm glad. It's a war zone out there. I've already spotted stealth dandelions getting into position.
Mrs B: Thanks!! You shouldn't. You always have to be one step ahead of them.
RG: I think there is a conspiracy theory about weeds working for the government. Goat's head stickers must be parachuting in at night. What the heck do they look like? I suppose it doesn't matter. They are probably well-disguised.
Tracie: Gee. Thank you. Question: Do you line up the containers across the lawn?
Thanks Ziva. What's a coltsfoot? Don't say about 12 inches. Snow? Yuck. I hate the stuff. Watch out! The dandelions use it as a cover while performing winter reconnaissance exercises.
I'm glad, Ivy. I haven't had much to laugh about lately. I'm glad I could make you laugh. The tiny election sign in your yard is part of a weed conspiracy.
Lauren, Coltsfoot is what I thought you people called Tussilago, which is a small yellow flower, sort of similar to a dandelion. But prettier. I could be wrong, though, everything I know I've learned from Wikipedia. I should really check my sources every once in a while.
I'm staring out into a sea of yellow in my backyard. I think we know now that it's only you who can save me!
Great story 🙂
Ziva: Never heard of Tussilago either. Small yellow flower I can relate to. A butter cup perhaps. I think it's hilarious that Iceland has clear skies while the rest of Europe is still submersed in volcanic ash. Talk about irony.
Hi Kathy. Thank you. Sorry that your lawn is yellow instead of green. I don't know how much help I would be as my lawn sounds a lot like yours. I don't look forward to spring because of the nasty yellow-headed beasties that grow in the lawn.
Oddly – people have thought me to be quite the weed connoisseur but the fact is that I often lose the dandelion battle each spring.
This year – I'm thinking cement.
Snails. Sowbugs. Hate 'em! We're gearing up to do a salad garden with Little Man and Tweenie, and forming my battle plans already in my head.
Love the war story. Keep fighting the good fight, Girl! 🙂 Great post.
What the hell is going on here? I didn't know world war 3 already started. My neighbor has just got his delivery of brand new AK-47s and bazookas. Just a few kabooms and those dandelion A-holes will be totally out of your life. Let me know if you want to order.
Hail Hitler!!
J: Cement is looking pretty good from where I sit. Yesterday was hell is Weedsville.
Perry: Good luck with the salad garden. War is hell! Thanks.
Ryhen: Did you ever date Sandra Bullock?