Letters to My Kids

The One with the Deep Roots

I really had high hopes. 
plans. 
dreams. 
For some sort of deep and thought provoking 
(or at the very least interesting) post. 
But alas, my face is sleepy. 
My eyeballs are dried out. 
They’re itchy too. 
Darn ragweed and pollen and tree stuffs. 
And my arms need to be scratched. 
Thanks to the hour I spent weeding and bush whacking trimming. 
Did you know I have small trees growing out of every nook and cranny of my garden. 
No, really. 
Not little treelings I can pull up with one hand. 
Or even the smaller, but still manageable newly growing tree which needs a bit of muscle, 
maybe two hands, 
and some foot leverage to pull out. 
NO.
I mean TREES.
That will require some serious equipment to excavate. 
I’m not happy about that. 
Mostly because I only own a hand spade.
So I just pull out my handy dandy manual hedge trimmers and whack them down.
Voila. 
No more tree!
(Until next month.) 
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