diggin'...

I've been out in the woods behind the house, planting some bloomed out daffodils. I rescued from getting tossed into the dumpster at work, and brought home to put in the woods, hoping that in time they will bloom again. The ones we get in pots from the growers (I think they come from some huge greenhouses up in Canada: 'agrowing amidst the ice and snow!) are usually premium bulbs, making cup and saucer blooms that are often as big as: cup and saucer!

And while I was there, with my shovel, out in the leaf mulch, saw a smilax vine just begging to be uprooted. Those big ugly tubers with the snake-y, thorny vines that will climb into the tops of trees and bloom, make seeds, reproduce, make babies, that sprout to become more evil-ness, and never die. I passed by the one I got up, and saw the top of the big tuber above ground, so it was as if it spoke my name, and said:' I'm ready' or more likely 'I dare you'. So even though I only spent about thirty minutes out there digging the holes for the rescued bulbs and rooting around getting that nasty tuber dug, it was a good, productive day of digging.

They are so ugly, something that looks as bad as I think cancer must, and so gratifying to get up, put in the trash to know they will never infest my yard again. Very satisfying to dig and pry and pull loose.  Plus if you know me, and my theory: hole digging is great therapy, you can imagine who got the enjoyment of getting that mean-ness out of the ground (and took a photo to memorialize the event) and into the trash can.