I’ll admit I don’t know much about gardening.
Couldn’t pick out a swallow-wort from a sneezeweed or a crocus from a ficus.
What’s the difference between a creeping gloxinia, a bloody cranesbill and a wonga-wonga vine? I haven’t a clue. They could be Ben & Jerry rejects or the opening act for Guns & Roses.
What do you expect from a guy who spent his formative years tending to a stoop instead of a shrub?
Question is, what are ya’ packing to do your whacking?
For more than a decade I’ve been trimming around the house with what I consider a competent lawn maintenance tool. Others might say it’s the Edsel of weed wackers.
I’ll admit it has some issues. Getting it started I have to tug on the pull cord over and over and over until I feel like I’m either going to pull out my arm or cough up a lung. Last year I swear I loosened three teeth just from the vibration. But get me going and I’m the Gotti of gardening.
Any weed that messes with me will be pushing up daisies. You like that, huh?
There’s a sense of power, freedom and entitlement that comes with swinging a weed wacker that you just don’t get sitting on or pushing a mower. No confined spaces. No getting stuck in the mud. No worrying about hitting a rock to get to those low-lying weeds.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
You never saw squirrels run so fast.
Whhhrrrrrr!
It’s not only the squirrels and the sycamores that should be concerned. Take your hands off the weed wacker and you won’t have to worry about those hairy legs any longer.
Sneeze and you’ll give yourself a bikini wax you’ll never forget.
I’ve been content to roam around our roses, trying not to accidentally take the life of an unsuspecting morning glory or a snoozing Siberian iris in order to whack some trouble weeds – until at a recent barbecue I heard my friend Dave discuss how he’s having the time of his life operating his equipment. I couldn’t help but have this sense of inadequacy.
Dave was like a kid at Christmas, eyes wide, arms moving all around as he described to a group of us how his new weed wacker has an engine with enough cylinders to power an entire village and yet has an anti-vibration system so that it handles turns like a Porsche. He told us all that it’s lightweight with perfect balance that effortlessly cuts its way through thick weeds and grass.
I was smitten by his description, ready to run right out to the nearest big box store when Dave finished off his Merlot, paused, then held up his hand as a way to tell us he wasn’t done yet.
“I forgot to tell you the best part.”
The best part? The guy had me at anti-vibrate. What more could there be? Then I realized what was left. Dave gave us a smile and moved in for the kill.
“It has an automatic feed. It knows when I need more string.”
The room fell silent.
“So, instead of having to focus and worry about the length of the string, I can pay attention to where the grass ends and our daffodils begin.”
I thought about the impact this could have on my lawn care. I started getting misty.
I’d seen a man walk on the Moon and someone invent a scratch-free scrubber with a smiley face. To think we’d reached a place in time when a person could extend the string of their weed wacker without having to bang its head on the ground. My sneezeweed will be thrilled.
I wished Dave well, but he could see I was a bit troubled. He asked what was wrong.
It was hard to admit that I had been deficient in the old tool department.
How do tell your friend that you have weed wacker envy?
Credit: www.recordonline.com
