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Also, I'm a little disappointed in myself about needing to take the break. I was THIS CLOSE to finishing mowing, but when I finished the back yard and had to drag the lawnmower up the little hill to finish the front yard, I was panting to the point where Zosia was about to show up, offer me a bottle of water, and tell me that according to every doctor on the planet, I was on the verge of heatstroke.
my dad's hyperfixation of the month is plants so he's getting really into gardening and he's testing different soil mixtures with different water types okay great
very good

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Out of rabid scientific curiosity I'm buying a scythe.
Guh.
Y'know that Thing, where you Do A Thing, and there's more of it to do, so you Keep Doing The Thing. And it's Mostly Fine. You prepared accordingly, any physical bracing relevant is worn, protective gear as appropriate. You pause every time the strain fluxes, its FINE.
But then you are Done. Or Done Enough For This Week. And it's Good.
And then, within ten minutes of stopping, everything is ready to collapse in a trembling heap?
Yeah. Hi. Ow.
On the upside, all my [found, identified] garden bulb plants are unearthed enough to get them some sun! And not get choked by a Leaf they tried to Grow Thru. Again.
There's a lot more coming back in the edged bed than I expected. Not quite as many in the half-wild sideyard but also some lily-like sprouts I have no idea where they came from, so. Not bad!
(We leave fallen tree leaves as mulch/winter-blankets for all the flower and garden bed areas of the yard. Alas, often they prove too thick and heavy a blanket to be easily poked thru by the smaller varieties, and even the big ones have trouble ripping open a Single Leaf from the middle if they accidentally grow up speared thru one. So. Gotta loosen and thin out the blanket, even if its too early to clear it completely yet-- frosty nights a few times a week still here!)
Yardwork, 1950s