31 August 2006


I don't know what it is - a virus of some sort, perhaps. Whatever it is, it strikes at the same time each year. Every August, I know it's coming. Invariably, the day arrives when I just don't feel like watering my flowers anymore... or worse, pulling weeds.

May, June, July - I am diligent. I am inspired. I water those flowers come rain or shine. I'm out there at least every other day. Then, seemingly overnight, this 15-minutes of regular daily maintenance becomes excruciating. The departure from my daily grind is suddenly too much to bear. My flowers pay the price.

Some flowers power through and still look pretty good after a week of 90 degree sun and no water, while others... well, they don't look so good.

I don't have a good excuse, really. Chalk this up to plain old negligence (I'm sensing a theme here).

And this...
This is the thorn in my side - the bane of my existence and potential as a domestic flower and garden specialist. I'm not sure WHAT this was or what it was supposed to be before we moved in, but today it is an eyesore - affectionately known in our home as "the heap." We have tried (to absolutely NO avail) to eradicate this mess and wipe the slate clean... to begin again.

Starvation. Dehydration. Poison. We've tried it all. Every few weeks we've fought the good fight trying to beat this thing down. Yet hours after pulling the last and most stubborn weeds, more green little monsters emerge from the heap to squash our dream (ok, my dream) of a colorful flower garden and a new beginning (not that I would water it anyway).

I'm discouraged. Will I end another summer with pots full of dead flowers overshadowed by a disastrous heap of dream-killing weeds? I certainly hope not.

I AM trying. Well, I was trying. OK... I'll give it another try. This needn't be the end. If given the chance, my flowers have the potential to keep their heads held high for at least another month or two before the air turns cool and the leaves begin to fall. I must give them that chance!

As for the heap... talk to me next spring.

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