When I bought my house six years ago, it was with the understanding that the Homeowners Association was going to do all the gardening. This understanding, like so much else in life, turned out to be only partially true. The HOA takes care of the lawn and trees. The homeowners, whose "covenant" -- that's the actual term, implying just how sacred all of this is considered in my tiny HOA community -- is supposed to do the rest. So Wednesday I lost a day of writing doing it, with the help of my friends.
I have to say, it was not one of our better efforts. True, there are more flowers, fewer weeds, and trimmer bushes. But I dropped and broke the electric mixer preparing the Gardeners' Lunch that is part of the tradition. We ran out of mulch. The impatiens in their cute staggered pots are now wavering between life and death. Jill cut the cord to the electric hedge clippers. Here she is, The Mad Slasher of Rochester, just before all clipping ceased:
What I want to know is -- where are the gardening 'bots we were promised by Hugo Gernback? Way, way overdue.