Things are going along rather nicely. The ducklings are growing like nuclear mutants in a postapocalyptic pond in a town not unlike the one you're living in now. The chickens are taking things more slowly. I admire their relaxed and judicial attitudes.
Yesterday I took the 'lings outside into the small yard for the first time. It went rather well, but today was better.
Three weeks ago when I was mowing the law in preparation for The GIrls' arrival, I ran over some sort of fabric hidden in the grass (don't ask). It promptly wound itself around the dual blades of the mower deck, which killed the engine but good. I was mostly finished with the big yard, so I decided I would worry about it later. It was always in the back of my mind, though, that most likely I wouldn't be able to untangle it. Or I'd gummed up the mysterious inner workings. Regardless, I was certain that this was going to be a job for A Professional. I have a trailer that I used to hook up to my Jeep so I could tow the riding mower up to the trailer, but I no longer have 1) a car with a trailer hitch; or 2) a car. Problematic.
Anyway, today I gathered up my high-quality professional toolkit, which I keep organized in a tiny drawer in a cabinet that is wedged between my washer and dryer. And so with my rusty scissors, my Philips screwdriver, my bright orange boxcutter, and a steak knife I found in the back of the drawer, I headed out back to liberate my blades. The greenery had been steadily advancing day by day; blackberry vines were starting to appear at the second-story kitchen window. It was only a matter of time before our defenses were breached.
After two solid hours of lying on the rocky, thorny ground with both of my arms blindly stuffed up inside a mower deck, hacking away at a tangled mass of bedsheet. And my only thought the entire time (besides "Holy Christ, has the Earth come loose from its orbit? Is the sun getting closer?") was:
"You know what you are, don't you? You're the teaser. Yep. You're the Person in Peril from the first 3 minutes of every
Supernatural episode ever. And you know what happens to the teaser: it always ends bloody. Always. You're wearing the red jumpsuit. Yep, any second now this riding mower is going to roar to life with a puff of sulphur and a sickly red light glowing behind the grill. You won't notice any of that, though, because you'll be too busy screaming about your missing arms
WHEN THE BLADES ENGAGE OF THEIR OWN ACCORD AND DICE YOUR UPPER EXTREMITIES LIKE COLD CUTS. WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH BOTH
ARMS UNDER THERE, YOU IDIOT? WE WANT TO PLAY THE CELLO SOMEDAY!"
Finally, after totally depleting my stores of electrolytes, the blades were free. Then, since my meds were still working, I mowed the lawn. Not only did I mow the lawn, I mowed the ditch in front of the house, which was looking very hairy indeed. Not only that, I wedged the mower through the front gate and into the front yard and mowed that, too.
Kiki: Wow. How did you get through the gate?
Me: Drove really fast.
Fuck. I was totally going somewhere with this entry, but I took so long typing it up that I'm really fatigued now.
Summary: Left the gate open, geese wandered out of the yard and took a stroll down the street, filled up the baby pool and brought the ducklings out for their first swim, no goose-on-duckling violence....what else? Sank up to my ankles in a previously undiscovered pit of quicksand in front yard.
Beaned myself with a branch whilst mowing beneath an evergreen at high speed; knocked sound-muffling earphones off but managed to retain skull.
Ducklings starting to bond with me. They follow me and stand at the bottom of the stairs when I go up to the kitchen, peeping their distress. I'm thinking the littlest Black Swedish is kind of a dummy. Took him 49 laps around the baby pool before he figured out how to utilize baffling ramp technology.
Found Piper's new nest. It's under my
Rio Samba rose bush, and it's only got one egg in it. Aw.
Which reminds me: Accidentally stumbled upon public goose intercourse. Now know what male goose genitalia looks like. No doubt severe nightmares to follow. Send brain bleach.
Carl the Redwing Blackbird was hanging out in the front yard! Usually he holds cort around the pond at the bottom of the yard. Carl's a pimp.
Saw an absolutely breathtakingly beautiful butterfly. Its wings were a deep neon rose color.
My roses are blooming!
I think one of my toes is going to fall off.
