Of hay and ducks

I made hay yesterday. Sort of.

Our old garden spot was overgrown with tall fescue and villainous herbage. Now, in most parts of the world, forage is pretty harmless. You mow it every Saturday and it behaves nicely. But we have a special kind of pasture plant here in Virginia.

When I say that our garden was overgrown, I don't mean "Your lawn needs mowing, Ma'am", I mean the last thing that walked into there packed a tent and two weeks' supply of freeze-dried liver and onions.

In fact, as I hacked my way through the jungle, I discovered a missing Saxony duck. She no doubt thought that such an out-of-the-way corner would be an excellent spot to raise a brood of ducklings. She evidentally hasn't heard of tall fescue yet.

Together my trusty weed eater and I carved through the fescue jungle, narrowly avoiding the ravenous fescue. We succeeded though. I leaned my weary frame against a fencepost, surveying our work. A thought flitted through my mind, "What do we do with all the clippings now? If we leave it on the ground, it'll kill what's still growing there." Being the astute rabbit wrangler, it occurred to me later that I can MAKE HAY! Duh. Leaving out the supremely scary tall fescue, the rest of it was just at the right stage of growth for cutting.

So we made hay.

Anyone want some freeze-dried liver and onions??