Go Team Life!
I spent the morning pruning roses. Now my poor yard looks as barren and baldheaded as I do. We can grow ourselves out together! I figure by the time the roses recover from this annual carnage fest and get it up to bloom again, I'll probably have myself a respectable little flat top that's actually visible to the naked eye. Go Team Rejuvenation!
The front yard looks like a plucked chicken. Sort of like dogs who look like their owners.
Everything's been surgically hacked back to bare bones.
Every year my intrepid assistant Mr. Oscar Lewis, the world's most rabidly indiscriminate pruner, tries his best to kill 'The Fairy'. But it's a tough little rose, and every year he fails. Go Team Survival!
This little red workhorse is called is 'Home Run.' It's one of the 'Knockout' knockoffs, and just like it's crazy slutty parent, it doesn't know the meaning of moderation, restraint, or quitting time. Fool thing wants to bloom year round. Go Team Perseverance!
I'm tired from the hard yard work, but it's a good kind of tired, a happy kind of tired, a purely physical and healthy kind of tired. As opposed to the crappy brutally incapacitating toxic fatigue that wiped me out physically, mentally, and emotionally throughout chemotherapy.
I can't get over it. It just felt so good to finally be outdoors, to move and stretch and bend and lift, to feel the sun and the cold and the aching muscles, the straining back. It was revitalizing to be out there courageously swinging my Felcos, battling armies of brutally whipping snarling killer rose canes that wanted nothing more than to shred my skin to ribbons and rip my eyeballs out of the sockets. It was the most fun I've had in many months.
I mean, I was so terminally sick of having to stay inside and coddle my pathetic immunocompromised self, always having to tread so damn carefully to avoid even the tiniest cuts and scrapes, fretting over death by ordinary garden microbes. I'm clearly not cut out for a life devoid danger, risk, combat, and wild hair-raising adventures.
A Surviving Veteran of the 2007 Pruning Wars.
And now the trusty rosemobile is ready for an afternoon of wild hair-raising nursery hopping adventures and combat. Go Team Fun!
The front yard looks like a plucked chicken. Sort of like dogs who look like their owners.
Everything's been surgically hacked back to bare bones.
Every year my intrepid assistant Mr. Oscar Lewis, the world's most rabidly indiscriminate pruner, tries his best to kill 'The Fairy'. But it's a tough little rose, and every year he fails. Go Team Survival!
This little red workhorse is called is 'Home Run.' It's one of the 'Knockout' knockoffs, and just like it's crazy slutty parent, it doesn't know the meaning of moderation, restraint, or quitting time. Fool thing wants to bloom year round. Go Team Perseverance!
I'm tired from the hard yard work, but it's a good kind of tired, a happy kind of tired, a purely physical and healthy kind of tired. As opposed to the crappy brutally incapacitating toxic fatigue that wiped me out physically, mentally, and emotionally throughout chemotherapy.
I can't get over it. It just felt so good to finally be outdoors, to move and stretch and bend and lift, to feel the sun and the cold and the aching muscles, the straining back. It was revitalizing to be out there courageously swinging my Felcos, battling armies of brutally whipping snarling killer rose canes that wanted nothing more than to shred my skin to ribbons and rip my eyeballs out of the sockets. It was the most fun I've had in many months.
I mean, I was so terminally sick of having to stay inside and coddle my pathetic immunocompromised self, always having to tread so damn carefully to avoid even the tiniest cuts and scrapes, fretting over death by ordinary garden microbes. I'm clearly not cut out for a life devoid danger, risk, combat, and wild hair-raising adventures.
A Surviving Veteran of the 2007 Pruning Wars.
And now the trusty rosemobile is ready for an afternoon of wild hair-raising nursery hopping adventures and combat. Go Team Fun!
posted by Lymphopo at Wednesday, February 07, 2007
5 Comments:
OK, I must have that bumper sticker, "Caution: Driver Singing." That's so totally me. My husband and kids would be mortified, so it would be perfect!
Huger than huge congratulations on being healthy and having clean scans. I thought I heard whooping for joy here in my part of the swamp. Now, you can dive back into your gardening with gusto and joy. Brava.
First,it was wonderful to read that you were "...out there courageously swinging my Felcos, battling armies of brutally whipping snarling killer rose canes...It was the most fun I've had in many months."
And then you talked about roses! About 'Home Run' and 'Knockout"! Just thinking about you whipping them into shape made me smile, too.
Thank you,
Annie in Austin
hey fuzz-head,
wish i could have been there to help celebrate. i KNOW i have been there in spirit. i have had a second dream with you in it.
geeze already.
so, anyway, i have this spindly little rose "bush" under the tree in front of my house. do i prune it back now? in the spring? wha?
z-grrrl
ps. my bumoer sticker would say CAUTION: driver cursing!
but that's just moi.
i think we should make T-shirts emblazoned with those team names on the front and on the back they'll have that picture of your dogs in their fisherman sweaters...
i'm serious.
xox *~Sarah
I don't feel so bad now, not having saved my giant roses on Maui for you to prune. Finally you get to go outside and play.
They insisted last week it needed to be done now so I hacked them back. Like your lovely assistant I probably prune closer to the style of Oscar Wilde.
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