There is something I forgot about spring... and lawn work... and being middle aged. The need for BenGay on aching muscles. My right arm has given me trouble for years, ever since I developed "homeschool mom muscle pull" from taking too many books out of the library in my Longaberger market basket. :)
Actually, my husband and I have been able to get some teamwork going and it has worked out quite well. Since he is deathly allergic to leaf mold (he and both my children), I rake the layer of dead leaves off of the areas all by the fence (most of which is beautifully landscaped by a previous owner).
I make certain there are no rocks or big sticks in the leaves and he goes over them with the mulching mower (while wearing a mask he special orders). They all go into the bag attached to the mower and are either placed on the compost pile or walked out to the county road and dumped in a ditch. (Don't worry, when one lives at the edge of a forest it is a completely natural thing to do.)
We've mostly been working in the morning and a little in the evening but tonight I wanted to make a nice dinner so I did all my pruning in early afternoon. Now is the time to get to all the bushes so I can cut them back (especially the two bushes which grow by the air conditioner) and I can see what is sprouting and what is dead on those by our Eastern fence line.
As I pruned the dead branches on some of the bushes by the fence today, I couldn't help but think of the John 15... how Jesus is the Vine and we are the branches... what a difference between those with life and those which break when I touch them because they have no life in them. I know there are times I feel dead like those branches, ready to snap at the slightest touch (or sideway glance). When I've absorbed the Word and listened to His Voice, I can be like those branches bearing the beginnings of beautiful leaves and blossoms.
My husband walked out to join me in the backyard yesterday only to find me raking and sobbing... sobbing and raking. For I was raking the leaves from under the dogwood tree, where my beloved Storm is laid to rest. There is a rather big rock there, a headstone so to speak, placed there by my husband after he buried her so we would always know where she lay. We plan to place flowers in the area this year. How I miss that furry friend of seventeen years.
I'm off now to brew some chamomile tea, for... like Peter Rabbit's mother... I know it is a good thing when one is tired and not quite feeling well. Christopher is studying Chemistry in town, hubby is watching the White Sox in the family room, Sasha appears to have claimed the living room sofa for the evening (although I would move her if I wanted it), so I'm going to curl up on my bed with the tea and read a little of Beth Moore's book, A Heart Like His, which I found at the thrift shop last week.
First I have to look for the BenGay.
Picture by R. Bock; allposters.com