Green, Green Grass of Home


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, you should have seen the look of surprise on my lovely wife’s face when she opened this year’s Mother’s Day surprise package…yes, a brand spankin’ new, shiny, red weed eater. It was that look of surprise I hadn’t seen since last Mother’s Day when I gifted her with a brand spankin’ new vacuum cleaner.


Her new weed eater works great, and she’s discovered many uses for it, like last night when she used it to whip up some mashed potatoes and again this morning to make pancake batter for some mighty fine flapjacks. There were a few problems, though, since I spent the rest of the morning scraping mashed potatoes and pancake batter off the kitchen ceiling and walls.


Speaking of weed eaters, I had a problem starting up my old one, which I had to use because the Missus was too busy making whipped cream with her shiny new one. The old weed eater wouldn’t start 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