Yesterday was a day of reckoning in the backyard. All plants heretofore left to thrive all winter long had to answer to me. Some went to see their maker yesterday. They're sitting in that big compost heap in the sky. Some simply suffered major pruning. Some I haven't had time to get to and they're trembling in anticipation.
Forgetting that I am out of shape, I gathered up my gardening tools and approached the overgrown garden. I pruned like the devil. I pruned like my life depended on it. I weeded, I whacked, I hacked, I hoed, I shoveled. I attached a corner where a vine had overtaken a rosebush that I had no idea even existed. Two previously undiscovered flower pots were revealed. I grunted and cursed. I bled (roses!) and sweat.
When the battle was over I had dirt between my toes even though I'd been wearing sneakers. I had one broken nail and scratches on my arms. My ponytail was askew. My arms were shaking from the effort.
And it was worth it. This is the kind of workout I can appreciate. You bust your ass and when you're done there is a noticeable difference -- maybe not in your ass but definitely in the garden.