Far be it from me to personify, but I am getting a little fed-up of the gloating growing behaviour of my lawn.
The sun is out. Out of what I do not know, but it is.
It is warm. There are a few ephemera floating around. It’s like Woodstock before the Hippies realised that the Sixties were soon to be over. The foliage, as leaves and green stuff like to be known as, is getting thicker and richer in hue. The clouds are meandering by like aristocrats pondering the meaning of their fluffy existence. And the grass, the bloody grass, is growing at a rate of knots.
And the Missus has noticed it and given me warning, right across my mid-ship, that it will need cutting.ย
Uh-Oh … and off you go into that time of year which its a game of cat and mouse .. and weather! Enjoy those moments of caught-up-ness when you’ve mown it and can sit back to enjoy your work..
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I will savour every minute…
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๐๐๐ I hear your excitement in every word. Teach one of the kids to do it for you…
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No. It’s my job…I will set about it in a moment…or two
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Of course … and you do it very well Iโm sure, and they all sit around on the cut grass drinking pimms after itโs done? (If they do, can I join in? ๐)
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Tis a wonderful idea…
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