It's Finally Tomorrow

Everyday I tell myself that tomorrow I am going to weed my boysenberry patch. Actually, sometimes I tell myself that I will do it "the day after tomorrow", or even "next week". So, consequently, the weeds are now somewhere between mid calf and waist high. But, this morning I decided that today was the day.
I started with an extensive 7am search for my garden gloves. The good ones. The yellow ones with the rubber coating that keeps all of the thistle thorns and other pokey things from breaking off in my fingers. They were nowhere to be found, until that is, I was finished with the job. Then I remembered right where I had tucked them away. So, that meant that I had to do the job with a pathetically inferior pair of gloves that I keep around for who knows what reason. And, yes, I have several little thistle thorns in my hands right now!


Now, hand weeding is something I rather enjoy. But I like to keep it to about 45 minutes or so. After that it just seems like work. Funny, because when I was a kid I hated weeding and hanging out the laundry. I swore that when I was a grown-up I was never going to do either one of these jobs. Ever. Never ever.

My mom had a garden that we weeded every summer. My guy estimates it at about 25 X 50 feet. But to us kids it was 10 acres of hell. Everyday we would each have to pull one 50 ft row of weeds. In the central valley heat! We hated it more than words can say. And, if you were the one who got the okra row, well that was a little bit of double hell! And, just for the record, my mom had this THING about growing stuff that we did not even like. Cream crowder peas and okra come to mind. We spent endless hours planting, weeding, flood irrigating, weeding, harvesting, weeding and canning stuff we didn't even like to eat. And, actually, we almost never ate any of it. My mom still has floor to ceiling shelves full of the stuff that we grew and canned back in the 80s. And, yes, this is a completely true story!! She says that it will be eaten with joy when the Tribulation rolls around. (Makes me real glad that we believe in a pre-trib rapture!)

I don't know if this story is funny to you, but it is seriously cracking me up!

Anyway, back to my garden (where I only grow yummy things like boysenberries and tomatoes), it took me 2 hours to pull all of those weeds! That is way over my 45 minute limit, but I knew that if I did not finish the job today, I would never make myself finish it. So I pressed on.


All of the weeds have now been thrown into my chicken pen, where they are considered a bounty of delight by my little flock.



Now all that is left to do, is to wait for that big ol' pile of weeds to turn into a big ol' bowl full of eggs! Right after I hang out the laundry, that is....