With the prospect of yet another unprecedented fire season looming, I recently began my seasonal weed and debris clearance earlier than usual. The recent spell of cooler weather made conditions ideal for dealing with this year’s bumper crop of already knee-high weeds. There’s something about the appearance and aroma of freshly trimmed weeds that always reminds me of the green, green grass of my old hometown back in the OC.

The old hometown looks the same as I step down from the train, and there to me is my Mama and Papa. Down the road I look and there runs Mary, hair of gold and lips like cherries. It’s good to touch the green, green grass of home. (“Green, Green Grass of Home” – Tom Jones – 1967)

The best way to rid your yard of weeds is to pull them up by the roots, just like my pappy made me do, back in the day. This is not much of a chore if your yard is small, but if your property is surrounded by a forest full of weeds, the most efficient way to do this is to whack away at them with a weed eater. Speaking of weed eaters, I can’t wait to see the look of surprise on my lovely wife’s face when she opens this year’s Mother’s Day surprise package…yes, a brand spankin’ new, shiny, red weed eater…Shhhh! Don’t tell her I said that I want it to be a surprise like last year’s Mother’s Day gift, a shiny new 20 horsepower vacuum cleaner. It worked so well that it sucked up all the kitchen floor tiles, not to mention the cat. Man, that was one mean kitty after we got his fluffy orange and white tail unstuck, though I must say it was quite clean… what was left of it, that is.

Speaking of weed eaters, I had a problem starting up my old one because it had stale fuel in it. So, here’s rule one: Always drain last season’s stale fuel and replace it with fresh fuel before starting it anew. Rule two: Get someone else to cut the dang weeds. Had I followed rule two, I wouldn’t have encountered the doggy poo the weed whacker splattered me with, from head to toe, all because one of my neighbors is too cheap to pay the parking fee at the dog park and opted, instead, to walk his poodle on the weed-shrouded road shoulder bordering the stately Motley Manor. Luckily, I was wearing safety glasses… I should have been wearing an oxygen mask.

Now that the first round of weed whacking is done, I’m going to relax and enjoy the sweet aroma of my freshly manicured grass… No, not that kind of grass, what were you thinking? It’s good to touch the green, green grass of home.

Keep it flyin’,

Uncle Mott