I have had it with nature, had it right up here I tell you! At every turn it seems to be against me. I always seem to be either too hot or too cold. When I need to work in the yard it rains. When my flowers and grass need rain, the unrelenting sun withers them to ash. If it's not the weather, it's the critters and bugs that attack me non-stop. They invade. They bite. They buzz. They are relentless. They don't know the meaning of the term "personal space". Mark my words nature. You shall be hearing from me in the sternest of terms. I plan to write a strongly worded letter I do.
The latest episode of outright mockery occurred just in the last month. I carefully and painstakingly prepared my yard. I put down the broadleaf weed killer. I put down the soil preparation nuggets. I spread the grass seed. For two days I dragged the sprinkler all around my yard, making sure that every precious grass seed was nourished and cared for with that essential liquid element of life. I looked after the seeds. I spoke to them. I sang them flagrant words of show-tunery for goodness sake. I bitterly and endlessly complained about all the hassles involved in watering that stinking, rassen-frassen yard. Sure would be nice if nature cooperated a bit and some rain came earthward.
The very next day, nature came through. I thought that we were beginning to make some progress in our relationship. After about an hour of non-stop heavy rain, I let nature know that my yard had received enough water and that it could turn off the valves. But no. It rained continuously for the next four days. It rained so much over my yard that the Atlantic Ocean was noticeably depleted. Heretofore unknown Spanish galleons were laying on dry ground up and down the east coast. Bah! I say bah! About two weeks later, my pathetic yard was still as brown as an over-cooked dinner roll, yet grass was sprouting up unchecked in every flower bed and off-limits area on my property. Thanks ever so much nature. You should look out for that letter. Mark my words.