"Bermuda Weeds"

That's what Ron calls the grass: "Bermuda Weeds". He detests it with a special passion. Frankly, it's scary to see how fast the stuff can grow. One week of rain, and we've got waist-high weeds out back.

About the only thing that restrains it is shade. Good thing I couldn't kill that pear tree. I kept cutting it down; it kept growing back. Last fall it turned colors beautifully so I decided to "keep" it. That's one of the things I miss from Virginia, those beautiful falls. Crunchy leaves, blazes of color, the acrid smell of the dead leaves... sigh. So the pear tree stays; and it can help keep the bermuda weeds down.

I gave Ron some names and numbers of growth regulators. I had teased him about getting some "Don't grow" or "Stop Growing" - maybe a product like that will work.

I was just drafted by Ron. Frosty the snow cat (I know) had something sticky on his tail. "It's been there all day," said Ron, as he got his wet washcloth "I'm going to clean it off." Frosty was amazingly sweet-tempered about the whole experience. Ron couldn't get it off, it looks like some kind of industrial glue, but he sure tried. I just stood there and told Ron he'd better give Frosty treats afterward or I would. He gave Frosty a very generous portion.

Frosty is really a perfect lap cat for us. Bubba brought him home to us after our other cat, Baby Girl, died. At first, he was unsocialized and terrified of us. He tried to throw himself out a window when we finally got him into the house. Now, he only leaves the house to play or lay sentry at the top of our driveway. He sat in my lap for half an hour this morning, happy as could be. Most cats only like some petting, but Frosty can't get enough. Like I said, he's perfect.

Ron's cut the offending patch of hair off Frosty's tail and is now rewarding him with even more treats. My boys. I sure love them. Ron loves to talk to Frosty as he pets him.

I'm going to go work on Sue's thing, which won't be getting mailed tomorrow. Bad Heather!