Of weeds, Spring, and aging
I am old. My ancient bones and muscles are creaking out groaning complaints of misuse and abuse. Yesterday after work I got my Roundup out and made up a small bowl of it up. That and an old sponge were all I needed to do my normal Spring ritual involving Henbit and Wild Onions. Those are the evil ones over there on the left. I swear--the devil must have created those plants, and maybe mosquitoes too. Both these plants really resist eradication so I have to coat them twice, about a week apart, in herbicide. I like to do it early before the grass becomes active so that the herbicide won't kill the grass too. That's also why I use a sponge to apply the Roundup instead of just spraying it pell-mell. That way I can place the Roundup just on the long upright leaves of the wild onions. Henbit stays close to the ground so I have to use a sprayer for it. Much to the detriment of the nearby grass, I'm afraid. I've lived here for 3 years now and each year there's less wild oni