This weekend I was feeling pretty good. For the second week I appeared in a Post publication. And though my name didn’t appear as I normally have it( with the first initial), was pleased to see the NCPC borders holding.
But then, later that day, a man knocked on my door. I answered and what he said to me, left me hurt and insulted.
Man: Hello Miss, I do yards ’round here and I can get up those weeds you have in your yard.
Me: [with a confused look] Huh?
Man: [pointing to one of several tufts of greenery] Those weeds there.
Me: That’s my peppermint. It’s supposed to be there.
Man: No, those weeds there. I can remove those.
[We both walk over to where he’s pointing]
Man: That there.
Me: [pointing with my foot] That’s peppermint. That’s thyme. They’re not weeds!
He called my yard weedy.
Great Jimmeny Christmas, if a yard doesn’t fit the American norm, it has to be attacked? Is fescue the only allowable thing? Water sucking grass? I have an edible front yard where the peppermint, the spearmint, the Greek oregano, and several varieties to thyme run free. And when I gaze upon it’s green lushness, I am glad. I was going to cut back on the peppermint, but a neighbor mentioned how she liked the smell of the peppermint in the morning.
Weeds? Bah. Yeah, I know some of those yard work jobs are half work, half charity (depending on the worker). But if you can’t tell a weed from herb then I don’t want you no where near my yard.