a sand dropper

As a child I was always mesmerized by hour glasses (and always puzzled by how they could measure a minute but were still called hour glasses). Something about watching the sand drop, sometimes rushing through as if it couldn't move fast enough, and others where you felt you could almost count each grain as it dropped. Sounds like life, doesn't it?

Spring time for me means being outdoor more than I normally am. (ie, I actually breathe more outdoor air than feeding the animals, cleaning out the chicken pen, and walking to my car)  There's yardwork, as in cutting grass, trimwork (weedeating, pulling weeds, cleaning the porches and trimming shrubs...all of which I hate and doesn't get done that often), and gardening.

This week I took on a task that needed to be done (and for the record, is still not finished).

I didn't prune the grapevines this winter. And this is what they looked like. And because they had grown up/down so much, it was next to impossible to cut the weeds underneath, resulting in a shrub growing up around one vine and briers growing the midst of another. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly nature and its roughness quickly overtakes whatever is in its path. It truly requires constant vigilance to keep it at bay.  So Tuesday night we started the arduous process of trimming branches from the trunk of the vine and the overhang that would prevent the push mower from mowing underneath. We cut round one trunk and started the overhang on the second side. I spent about an hour (it seemed a lot longer) working again yesterday.  And one row is now completed (the bronze muscadines; the purple will have to wait until Friday):

Meanwhile, our riding lawn mower is in the shop. One of our new neighbors graciously offered yesterday to come and cut our grass for us until it was repaired. Many people offer to do things like that, but I think he's one of those people that would actually do it and not just offer.

So this has been one of my many sand usurpers this week.