Compulsion

The front yard is looking like Ruth's back, pretty scruffy where the other girls have pulled out patches of hair.  I had promised myself a day off.  So much for that.  With my back suggesting loudly that I join Weeders Anonymous, I thought I'd just give the peonies in the herb garden a better chance to push up after their winter under ground.  One weed leads to another, and I managed to work my way through about a third of that garden before I had to go milk.  Walking my milk customer out to her car later, there were weeds around the half-barrel planter by the front porch that were calling my name.  Tree Guy came by in the afternoon.  While he went down to talk to Robert about finishing up the chipping, I moved to the halfway mark in the herb garden.  I mean, I was outside anyway.  Going behind the lilacs to turn on the hose in the late afternoon, there were weeds next to the house.  I had to pull those, and cleared that side completely.  Now the other side of the porch looks ratty.  I still haven't finished pulling bracken.  I still haven't finished the front rock garden.  I still haven't finished the herb garden.  So many weeds, so little time.

This compulsion to pull weeds is an inherited trait.  Some of my clearest memories of my mother are of her bent over, pulling weeds.  I used to get embarrassed as a kid because she'd pull weeds in other people's yards!  She couldn't help herself, and neither can I.  When my Kids were younger and pestering me about something or other, I knew I could get some peace and quiet by going out to weed because, strangely enough, the compulsion seems to have skipped a generation and none of them wanted to pull weeds too.  I just need to focus now and finish one area at a time and stop this willynilly, hither-and-yon plucking. 

Out in the vegetable garden, the turnips are up, but the cilantro, peas, and eggplant (I did get the eggplant planted some days ago) are taking their time.  I'm not even going to think about the weeds out there!