I woke up this morning feeling like I'm three hours behind with no chance of getting caught up. My grass is high and mostly looks like grass but isn't. I need to cut it now before it rains. I have renewed my decision to give in to the creeping charlie that has taken over a section of my front yard and is completely impervious to the weed killer that was supposed to take care of it but didn't affect it at all.
My daughter noticed how the weeds in the lawn have segregated themselves as if a class system were at play. The creeping charlie is in one section, the clover happily lives in another, and the random weeds have no real home, but seem to be looking for a place they can live in peace. She just read Animal Farm.
My daughter helped me stomp mole tunnels yesterday. She screamed like a girl when she found one that was squishy. She thought it was unfair that we were messing up their homes. "What if someone squished our house," she said. "You wouldn't like that." My reply: "No, I wouldn't, but if a giant foot came down from the sky, we would move away fast." Apparently, that's the idea with moles - if you annoy them enough, they will go away - or deeper underground.
We have named our mole The Underminer. Most of the tunnels yesterday were flat. However, we found an additional four open holes. This probably means we have snakes. I do not like snakes at all but accept that they will naturally take care of everything else that may be lurking in my yard. (There are no dangerous ones in Ohio, which is the only real benefit to living here.) I would rather have a snake slither over my toes than have a rodent of any variety pop out of a hole.
Thumbelina was one of my favorite stories when I was a little girl. I remember a picture of a mole in a tux and top hat with a monocle over one blind eye. He forced a tiny girl to marry him. I told this story to my daughter between her girlish screams. She thought that was totally creepers and couldn't believe that was a children's story. I told her she had better stomp those tunnels or else the mole could steal our baby.
Yesterday, my word was laughter. The only laughs I got out of anyone yesterday was me laughing at my daughter's screams and my daughter laughing at me when I screamed, "SQUISH it!"