VINE PATROL!

6:25pm
I was sitting at the computer this morning, starting to work on a plan for a class that I'm going to be giving at Campbell's Gourmet Cottage in August... and after that, I was going to get into some bookkeeping and filling out Finch House's state sales tax for second quarter. Went to get a glass of water, opened the back door, sniffed the breeze, and that was it. So much for "desk day".

What an absolutely terrific day to be outside!! Sunshine, not too hot, low humidity, nice breeze! Nothing even remotely like July - time to fix a lemonade, sit on the porch, and enjoy.

Heh. Yehright. From our back porch, all looked lush and green. But I knew differently. The lushest, greenest, most lovely plant in my garden is called Bindweed. Gardeners know it - it's a vine related to morning glories, has heart-shaped leaves and pretty, trumpet-shaped white blooms. The blooms form long, milkweed-like pods that turn silvery-gray and split, releasing downy little fluffy things that we kids used to call "fairies". Each one carries a little brown seed. Each seed turns into a vine whose roots travel for yards and whose stem will reach out, grab onto, and wrap around anything it can find. Tight. It is without a doubt the nastiest, most pernicious, hardest to get rid of ... (Stop the description there. Mom might be reading this post.) Kudzu has nothing on this nasty little beast - our yard is one big bindweed topiary.

So, there is a tradition in our house that we call "Vine Patrol". Involves a large trash can, clippers, garden gloves, and more patience than I can usually summon up since bindweed needs to be carefully unwound from any plant worth keeping. If you "grip and rip", all the good stuff comes with it. I keep telling myself that if I can just do a little bit, a couple of times a week, it'll stay under control - but I don't. So it doesn't.

Six hours in the garden today. Six. Hours. Two trash cans full. And it was all over the chain link fence (ych) and into every rosebush it could find (can you say "blood donation").

But boy, does it feel great - everything looks so light and spacious now - and what a nice day to do it!

So now, it's a nice evening. Tom, who's been upstairs sanding hardwood floor before the final coat of poly, is out on the front porch - and not with lemonade. He said he'd meet me out there, and oh by the way, there's a frozen margarita waiting on the counter for me. woo hooo. Love love love that man.

(And my sweet Mother, should you be reading this: Don't worry. We really don't drink every night. Just now and then, when we've really earned it!)
;-)