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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo spent the bulk of this first, lovely, Saturday morning of October hammering away with a rake at the moss which had taken over a large chunk of the Port Swiller Manor front yard.

I’d been ignoring the problem for years and putting the job off all summah, but fall liming has already started and they’ll be aerating and over-seeding soon, so I had no choice but to scramble now in penance for my bygone indolence.

I don’t know why all the how-to guides (and my lawn guy) say raking out moss is easy. It’s nothing of the sort. True, it’s not hauling hay bales, but it’s tedious and repetitive, and, when one is trying to avoid taking out what tufts of grass there are, more tedious. Plus, it’s a major workout on the forearms and hands. I don’t think I’ll be playing the piano later this afternoon.

I got a sizeable chunk done, but by no means all. I think I’ll let the rest go, at least for this year, and see how much the rejuvenated grass can win back on its own.

UPDATE: No, I wasn’t kidding about my hands, the backs and joints of which are now stiff and painful. This happens when I spend a long time clutching things hard. Prolly early arthritis. Also, although I again missed Ace’s GAAINZZ thread yesterday, I can report here the successful conclusion of another week’s worth of 625 pushups (125 per day), so I was already rather worn out when I started. (I’m pretty proud of myself about that, by the bye, and feel pretty great, too.)

But the real purpose of this update is that I forgot to mention another lawn item earlier. The back yard is plagued with native violet. The last time weed control was put down on them was in the middle of a hot, dry spell about five weeks ago. The control is in pellet form and has to be absorbed through the roots. The violets at that time were practically dormant due to the weather, so nothing doing. Ol’ Robbo was…displeased.

This past week when the fellah was back again we were just coming out of a rainy spell and the plants are all wide awake. He put down another treatment and within about 48 hours I could already see the little bastards’ leaves starting to curl, and the process goes on apace.

Not to too violently switch the reference from the title of this post, but inspecting the violet issue this afternoon Ol’ Robbo may have borrowed from the Star Trek TOS episode “Wolf In The Fold” and ran about the yard yelling, “Redjac! Redjac! Die! Die! You’re all gonna die! Redjac! AAAAHAHAHA!!!!”

It’s possible.

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