The dangers of chlorophyll

This is my brain.















This is my brain on plants.










Don't talk to me about a 12-step program. I don't want to be cured of this addiction!

A wish to hear bird song instead

There are certain noises that put me on edge.

The sickening metallic thud of a car crash. Air horns. Rap music. Bug zappers.

Chain saws.

Oh, I hate the sound of chain saws, because in my neighborhood it spells the death of another tree. For 2 days last week, I listened to the unnatural, jarring noise as a stately 60 ft Doug fir met its demise. I wanted to be in my garden but I couldn't stand the noise, so I found work to do inside and played music to mask the racket. I've no idea why the tree was cut down. No disease was apparent, but perhaps it was in the way or the owners were worried about it coming down in wind storms. It doesn't matter why, it's gone and I miss seeing it out my den window.

Today, there is more noise as they regrade or grind the stump or rototill or commit some other action that requires noisy machinery to do the job. My body is tensing and recoiling as if I'm under attack (in a way, I am. I'm enduring an assault on my garden's peace).

I had been looking forward to peaceful garden activity and bird song.

Dang.

He didn't think I could do it

Hubby that is. But he was wrong (oh, ye of little faith)!

















That's 16, yes, count 'em, 16 - 16 f00t Trex bender boards in my lil' red car (not so lil' after all). The guy who helped me load them said it was a new Parr record.

If getting them in place between lawn and garden beds would go as smoothly, I'd be a happy camper.