The snow beats a slow retreat.
The grassy spots under the trees grows bigger every day, and so I found myself headed out to those trees, pruning shears in hand. I vowed all last summer to trim those limbs that continually knocked my hat off when I was mowing the lawn. Actually, that’s not true, it’s been the last three summers. So, finally riled to the point of no recliner, I was set to do battle with those hat knockers. The first thing I discovered was the shears are relentlessly dull. One handle is bent, most likely due to... Sign in to see full entry.