Yard Work
by GinafishDid I tell you that for my husband’s birthday in March, I bought two bikes? These are cruising bikes, not mountain bikes, not trick bikes, but leisurely cruising bikes. The first time we used them and left the kids at Nana’s we rode 7 miles. Lucky for us, the next day proved that we are both man enough not to have aches and pains every where.
So Friday the weather was finally nice enough to ride again. We headed in a different direction and went five miles. The wind was fierce and there were a couple of inclines involved. There was also a new surface for me. Gravel. Ick! All my life I’ve been lucky enough to ride on paved roads while my husband was subject to mostly gravel. Let me tell ya, it’s kind of scary going downhill on gravel so fast that your hands quit vibrating and you aren’t pedaling.
But I digress. For the most part, the five miles was an easy enough relaxing bike ride. But I did begin to feel my calf muscles about 3 miles into it, and the thought occurred to me, “I am so going to be sore tomorrow.”
Saturday came and we had a day of work ahead of us. Yard work for me, cleaning the garage work for hubby. The kids would tag team it and sometimes help me, sometimes help him and sometimes just goof off. I’m not normally the kind of person who looks wistfully around at my neighbors and think, geez, I wish I lived like that. However, my neighbor directly across the street has such a nice lawn that I can’t help but feel our yard is just scraggly compared to it. We have a LOT of trees.
A LOT!
And that makes for patches of dirt where grass doesn’t even attempt to grow, mounds of pine needles and prickly gum balls, and exposed roots. And because we live in the country, we have two different places where water goes once it’s flushed, or emptied from the clothes washer. The septic tank has a long line of pipe emptying the ‘clear’ water under a tree far from our house where the water grows abundantly and rapidly. The clothes washer empties at another area where the grass grows, but also is exposed to the sun so dries out fast. Basically, all our yard needs to represent the world is sand. Moss, check; dirt, check; weeds, check; rocky patch, check…. you surely understand by now.
So as much as I love the trees and the shade and plum jelly, I am envious of my neighbors flat all green yard.
So while hubby worked on the garage, I picked up 6 months worth of limbs. Using a child’s red wagon, I made four bonfire worthy piles of sticks, pine needles, and limbs 10 feet long. The kids enjoyed helping me trudge the limbs to the back, and I was glad for the help.
Occasionally, I heard the cry of help from hubby. Is this a Christmas box? Help hold the ladder please. Who’s your daddy?
Now, every four months or so, I enjoy yard work. But I always over do it. And yesterday, leads to today if one is lucky. So today? I ache. I need a Calgon bath. I need a massage. I need a plate of cheese to go with my whine.
So what do you always inevitably over do? What makes you hit your forehead the next day or next hour and think “D’oh!”?

who’s your daddy? i love you ginafish!
XOXOXOXOX