Rainy days, jungles, and blood sucking pests

I planned on mowing my yard this weekend. Life prevented me from giving my scraggly grass its first trimming of the season last weekend, and now the patches where my grass has taken good root over the years stand tall and bushy. I'm not a huge fan of manicured lawns. The artificially wellkempt strips of green in the suburbs are one of the things that drove me back to the country. Mother Nature just doesn't order her charges in such a tidy fashion. I don't mind doing yard work; mowing and trimming and digging in the dirt are some of the things I like best in life, so long as I'm not working toward an unnatural standard under threat of neighborhood ostracism.

To mow as much as I do is a nod to human preferences, particularly our aversion to sharing our immediate locale and bodily fluids with blood sucking arachnids.

I won't get tick-bit hiding from the rain inside, so I might as well enjoy the day. Perhaps tomorrow I can brave the jungle and its blood sucking pests.