Weeds

You've never seen weeds until you've been in my backyard. My weeds eat yours for a midday snack, they are so gigantic. Audrey, the blood sucking plant from "Little Shop o' Horrors" is a mere dandelion when compared to the monsters that have apparently invaded my soil.

Must be Georgia red clay or something, because, though domestic I am not, I know a thing or two about weeds. Growing up, we always had a garden and my dad worked for an Ag-Chem company. The yard was pristine, nary a strand of crabgrass in sight. The running joke in the neighborhood was that he would shoot you if you walked across his 'perfect' yard. And perfect it was.

Our lawn wasn't just cut, it was MOWED. Gracefully. In patterns. The lines were always parallel, striped even, and the yard was edged, raked, manicured. It was definitely the pride of the neighborhood.

My Mom also loved her garden, when the rabbits and squirrels weren't eating everything, that is. Weeds knew better than to mess with the Sabala household, where Round-Up and Diazinine were flowing like the Niagara. So weeds? Yep. I knew 'em.

Until today, that is. In preparation for my party, and with a post-work evening without rain (a miracle, lately), I decided to tackle my front herb and flower garden as well as the backyard and the few plants that are underneath my deck. I had surveyed the scene last week, and even invested in some Round-Up (Ed Sabala's nectar of the Gods) to pre-spray to kill the roots. I'm thorough, you know.

So, after failing to locate the Off Skintastic (please note the foreshadowing here), I threw on my grubbiest clothes and headed into the wild wild woods. (Ok, my front yard.)

I started small, as all good weeders know to do. The previous owners' were big gardeners, and bequeathed me with a bevy of flowers, herbs, and shrubs. Though I DO know weeds, flowers, herbs & shrubs are a little out of my repertoire. The key was to ONLY PULL OUT THE WEEDS. So, with my trusty analytical skills, I examined leaf patterns, stem fuzziness, and growth design to segregate what I KNEW was a plant from the nasty ol' weeds. Success. After a newly-preened front garden was created, I decided to tackle the under-deck growth.

Now, my next door neighbors (both the set that just moved out and the ones that just moved in, neither of which I have ever met) do not seem to have anything that closely resembles a green thumb, as attested by their front yard. I still would hate to pull out their prized azalea bush by mistaking it for a weed. So, again I took great care in my weeding efforts, leaving me a bit full of myself when I was finished. Beware, you nasty weeds, you've never seen the Auberator.

Imagine my surprise when I entered the jungle. Whether it was the monsoons we've had lately or a supernatural event, these weeds were anomalies of nature. I kid you not, they were taller than I was by at least a few feet, massive by anyone's standards. These weeds could eat small tigers, could hide log cabins, could provide ample shade for a small African country. If I was a squirrel, this would be the Sequoia National Park. I think Monkeys were mocking me from the branches - yes, branches - of these weeds.

They were mammoth. They were intimidating. They were...stuck. In the ground. Their trunks (the word 'stem' would be a misnomer), were red, brown, and the circumference of my lower arm. To pull them out, I had to put my back into it. Hell, I had to put my ASS into it, and anyone who knows my ass, knows the power it can bring. Nothing. Wouldn't budge.

Please note the cell phone for size reference. And these weren't even the largest ones!

Again, I strained. I pulled. I yanked, twisted, skidded on the rocks as this weed battled for its life. Yet, Super Aubrey somehow prevailed, even though it took a running start and me practically swinging from the branches to yank it out of the ground.

I was triumphant.
I was proud.
And I was covered in mosquito bites.

Nature: 1 Aubrey: 0

Comments

[Your Father]

Ever so cool. Don't forget the PREEN now to keep them out!

[Josh]

You know, I just circumvent the whole weed scenario by living in a city so devoid of greenery that we worship the weeds you just yanked from the ground. Murderer! A pox on your soul.