Thursday, April 17, 2008

Dr. Seuss Was a Gardener

Who Are You? Who? Who? Who? Who?

He really must have been. Or perhaps he had a big old yard on a hill with lots of ivy and grass and poison oak and huge trees dumping glorious amounts of leaves.

I have been clearing out the back 40 in anticipation of fire season. Is it because I am a responsible homeowner? Not really. It's just that I've not cleared all the brush out in three or four years, and my insurance company said it's time to do it. Well, it's time to do it if I still want a homeowner's policy with them. Apparently, they are not fans of wooded lots. I do believe they prefer a concrete jungle.

I received a letter from them in January stating that I need a buffer of 30 feet behind my house. I called them up, incredulous, because, good Lord people it was the rainy season and nothing would light, not even my nightly toke. [Joking about the last part. Drugs are bad. Do not do drugs. Hear me, kids?]

So, yeah, I'm clearing the land of the insidious greenery. [And, yes, three years' accumulation of oak and pine leaves and branches and dog droppings.] I still have hours of work to do on it. Which does make me wonder about the hardiness of my ancestors. How did they clear the land? Oh, right, they were landed gentry, so they paid people to do it. [Joking about that last part, too. I come from a long line of poor people.]

Last night, I was outside and the area I cleared away was crackling up a storm. I envisioned tiny worlds destroyed by me, my weed whacker and my rake. The noises I heard were likely dying planets a la Whoville as it was tossed around through the Jungle of Nool.

I have made the executive decision to not clear out one of the side yards, leaving it to the wilds and the colonization of others, desperate to find a new home. I only hope they find that side as enjoyable as they found their former home.


I mentioned to Eldest the other night that I had a fairly wide open day Friday. Writer that he is, he wondered if I would perhaps like a wri...