A few years ago, we spent several thousand on a 65' well, electric submersible pump. FREE water, for the yard! This past winter there have been gushers, which, if they were oil wells, we'd be really worried about all our money about now. However, my problem was not money (since we do not have any!), but getting all the sprinkler heads in working order.
So, after one-and-a-half years of careful "engineering study and research" (I tell my wife!) it was time today, to just bite that metal bullet, and "get down and dirty" once again. And I fixed all but one! So our yard is up very late tonight, and I hear it saying (whispering) (whisper!) "Thank you, Steve...thank you, Steve...thank you!" (Or was that Prayer Girl--she's been after me to do this for weeks.)
What a difference a day makes...and a few thousand gallon of water! I could see the grass turning green as it drank--or was it simply getting wet? Either way is Okay. However, that exquisite springtime smell is already sneaking its way from ground to nostril. It is rather a scent, than an odor or smell. It should be caught in a bottle and sold as perfume...or how about a "springtime cocktail"? Bartenders could name it "Grrrrrrrass"! I can just 'hear' a customer--in an effort to shorten the named drink--saying, "Hey barkeep, give me a little a**! (Oh, NO! Steve, you gone and done it again--just lost all four readers!)
I once wrote a poem about a blade of grass, and how it must feel to be trampled, mowed, fertilized, half-killed by "Feed-and-Weed", drowned , left alone, dying of thirst--for months! Only to be mowed, cut down as in a long-overdue haircut...and I lost the poem. I only recall the first few lines. I really am sorry, because it was a favorite to me:
My Friend, A Blade Of Grass
See the glistening green blade!
Please! Careful with that spade
Trillions may call him 'brother'
... But there'll never be another
Exactly just like him
In the glistening green glades of blades.
In about two weeks, our lawn will be up to its old nose-thumbing ways, growing high enough each week, so I'll have to mow it every ten days, now through October. Every year--for the last 15--I've said (and will repeat it now!) "NEXT year, we're going to farm out this job." I do not wish to die while committing murder, killing the glistening green blades of the glistening green glades.
At least when I'm working outside these days, my perspiration is not dominantly alcohol--but, ahhhh! well...OK, SAY IT, Steve! COFFEE, my current "drug of choice". There, I broke my anonymity! Again!
Here I am, still loving all youse guys--yes, ALL! (Except one!) So please add me to your prayer lists. The more I think things are becoming OK, the more I need prayers. Since I was told not to pray for myself--exception: the 'foxhole' variety. I really depend on your prayers to whoever is your Higher Power: It, She, He, or....?
In love and service,