It’s the time of year where I have to admit that I am chemically dependent on...Round up. Any other time of year, I’m willing to put on my hat and gloves, grab my gardening bag, and hit the flower beds. But once the heat shatters the 90 degree, massive humidity mark, I break out the Round up. (Maybe it’s the evil dictator intent on world domination in me, I tested out as Sauron in the LOTR personality test, but I love killing weeds.) Nothing’s more fulfilling than spraying unsuspecting healthy green weeds with Round-up and knowing they’ll be toast within a few days. Bwa-ha-ha!
I sprayed weeds on Saturday, and when I went running this morning I had satisfaction of seeing the weeds had already started to turn brown. Of course, if my neighbors actually cut their “grass” (read weed patches) on a regular basis I might not have such weed problems, but that’s another story.
In the meantime, die, weeds, die!