It is blustery cold, but the crocuses are blooming in the garden. While some may call this a wonderful harbinger of spring, I know it for the truth. It is time to begin yardwork.
Mowing, weeding, mulching, pruning, dethatching, fertilizing, watering, repeating. I can't stand it. If it grows, it makes me sneeze. And yet I am compelled by neighborhood guilt and patriarchal tradition to make myself into some sort of harvestless farmer.
I dream of green concrete, wrought iron ivies, and sprinklers that spray single malt into my mouth as I lounge by a self cleaning pool...
There are sober men aplenty, and drunkards barely twenty. There are men of over ninety that have never yet kissed a girl. But give me a ramblin' rover, from Okrey down to Dover, they have roamed the country over and they're happier as a rule. -Silly Wizard
Walks and talks
About Me
- The Rover
- Just out for a walk in life... I'm a single dad, teacher, rock star, and learner. Trying hard to keep my feet on a path, and to pick myself up from the stumbles and road blocks.
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