FarmWife has taken it upon herself to kill about 1000 square feet of lawn, the better for avoiding mowing. I am her loyal and devoted servant in this matter. What I cannot obliterate by overgrazing, I stifle with my abundant leavings. I pile them tidily in the corner of the shed; FarmWife removes them from my presence and spreads them atop cardboard on the offending delectable edibles. She then removes soiled alfalfa stems from yonder goat shed, layering them atop my road apples. She waits. Father time massages them into a rich, black humus. She plants bushes. They thrive.
Teamwork is the name of the game, and I am the MVP.
Ears,
FenBar
Teamwork is the name of the game, and I am the MVP.
Ears,
FenBar
This is Harriet patrolling some of the soil that I helped build. Let me tell you—the soil is a lot prettier now, two years later, since the addition of a whole lot more mule poop. |
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Thanks in Advance for Your Mulish Opinion!