We’ve had a lot of rain lately. This is a far cry from last year, when we suffered through months of drought. Instead of brown grass, our lawn is a luxurious shade of green.
In fact, the grass was getting so thick, I had the pleasure of breaking out my beloved John Deere lawn tractor, which had been in hibernation since October. Our reunion was beautiful. And in keeping with the wet theme, no sooner did I finish mowing before a nice little thunderstorm rolled through, complete with a smattering of hail.
Not so beautiful? All that rain has fueled an explosive mosquito population. The bloodthirsty pests swarm around your ankles with every step you take across the yard, so unless you douse yourself with OFF!, it’s a suicide mission. Fortunately, we’ve got a ready supply on hand, ’cause we’ve got a lot of planting to do. Not only has my gardening-freak wife been filling the basement with tomato and pepper plants she started from seed back in January, but today, we stopped by our local garden center and loaded up on perennials and shrubs.
Last weekend, we stocked up on lumber so Tara could build raised beds. These past couple of weekends haven’t been cheap, but that’s how it goes when you’re starting a new garden from scratch. Dick had a bunch of raised beds back there already, but they were an overgrown, neglected mess. Obviously, his advancing age prevented him from keeping up with them. Tara tried to make do with ’em last year, but decided it would be easier to just tear up all the old stuff and start fresh.
She’s also adding a simple fence to keep out the critters. The critters being the deer, raccoons, woodchucks, and possums that treat our yard like their own personal buffet.
Speaking of possums, when I was walking through the yard this morning, clearing branches to prep for the mowing, I stumbled upon a very large – and very dead – possum. I thought (hoped) he was faking it and “playing possum,” but if so, he was doing a bang-up job of it. Between the flies crawling all over him, the hollowed-out eye socket, and the rotting ear, he was quite the actor.
Admittedly, I freaked out a little. I’m a city boy, ergo, I have zero experience disposing of dead wildlife. But something had to be done, so I grabbed a shovel and started digging. Luckily, we have excellent soil; it’s sandy, well-drained, and very easy to turn over. Took me no time to dig a three-foot deep hole and bury the possum. Afterward, I told Tara if we ever have to dispose of a dead body, we can easily manage a six-foot deep hole in our backyard. Information to file away just in case.
Friday evening, Tara and I went to one of our favorite watering holes, Island Bar & Grill, for drinks and supper. The weather was so perfect, we snagged one of the outdoor tables on their deck overlooking the Rock River. We loaded the TouchTunes jukebox with our favorite music and killed three hours enjoying Old Fashioneds (me), Bud Light (her), and a Friday fish fry. Island Bar is one of the few places around that serves bluegill, which I’ve discovered I really like.
Before we left, I walked down to a dock to snap a photo. Perfectly innocent-looking, right?
That’s what I thought, until I zoomed in.
That would be my dear wife, flipping me the bird. I took three different photos from the dock. She’s flipping me off in all three.
At one point, our server started dancing behind her while she was giving me the fingers. Plural, because she’s a double-fister. “You guys are fun,” she told Tara. “I hope you’ll come back soon!”
See, you guys think I’m bad, but this is proof that I can’t take Tara anywhere.
Mark My Words 
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