A bone to pick

I really like my neighbors. Well, most of them. There’s one I’m highly suspicious of and one I wish would move away.

My favorite neighbors have a shed that sits a few feet from my fence. Lately, they’ve piled broken car parts, a broken bench and a few other things behind their shed. I see these things nearly every day.

I’ve apologized to my favorite neighbors. Mostly for the weedy condition of my back yard. Once the trees were all gone, the weeds came in. It’s a problem. Mostly I kept the tall grass because of Nina; she loved to sleep in the tall grass and frequently I’d turn the hose on so she could drink out of the “stream” that rolled down towards the fence. That’s really the only reason.

I gave away my weed-wacker because I hadn’t used it in a long time and I guess I should’ve kept it. Owning doesn’t mean I’d get out there and use it. I tried paying the kid next door to come over but he’s off to college and better things. I guess the tall grass stays.

I do get rid of the weeds – the purple thistle is a noxious weed and has to be eradicated. I walk around and pull them before they can sprout and flower. I figure that’s good enough.

The raspberries were crazy this year. I had thousands of berries. The birds ate most of them but next year I’ll have people come up to pick them. I have no clue if that’s beneficial for making more berries next year.

I wish I can rejuvenate the back yard by adding gardens and more flowers but in this soil, well that’s not going to happen.

I suppose I feel I can’t really complain about the stuff behind the shed but yah, it feels good to vent.

Now, I’m over it.

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