I hate yard work. I suppose it wouldn't be so bad if we had a normal sized yard. I suppose it would be easier if hubbahubby and I had been able to keep things in order but a few injuries, one surgery and a broken lawn mower did nothing to help. It might even be an enjoyable way to spend a morning out in the fresh air getting much needed exercise.
Who am I kidding!
Mowing grass is for goats. I mean that's what they do best. If I could find a Rent-A-Goat store I'd be their best customer. Man and Woman (especially woman) were not meant to run back and forth in semi-straight lines pushing a coughing, sputtering, smoking, rock throwing contraption attempting to keep growing green things short enough so tigers and bears can't hide in the yard. That a goats job! A goat doesn't care if it's too hot, if there are too many bugs, if sweat is pooling in their bras ...... eh um ......I mean if it's raining. Heck, they don't even care if they step on those enormous brown bombs the dogs so cleverly hide in all that tall grass. (I think my inside tennies are now outside tennies) Goats are just happy doing goaty things like keeping all that grass nice and short and making little goats.
I'm ready for winter. Three feet of grass killing snow is on my wish list this year. And some goats, I want some goats.