The Battle Begins

The call to arms has been sounded. The War of the Weeds has begun. Last year the weeds won, but I was handicapped. I was growing reinforcements for our side, and I couldn't bend over very well. But this year the Boss is here. This year I am ready. I have assembled my troops. The weeds will not survive.

Okay, so my "troops" aren't very hardened (except that weathered guy in the back), but give them a few years and they will be unstoppable. Until then, I'll just have to work with what I have.

The Boss has appointed himself general. He surveys the battles from the comfort of his stroller. The Monkey and the Queen take turns pushing him in the shade as he shouts encouragements. Meanwhile, one lucky soldier and I hack and pull at the ferocious weeds. No survivors is our motto. When necessary Dad pulls out the artillery, the rototiller, and finishes the weeds off in a sneak attack at night.

We have planted six rows of corn, four rows of bush beans, four tomato plants, some squash, and some cucumbers. It is ambitious, but think of the delicious fruits of our labor.

Notes From The Boss

I am General Boss. From my noble steed, Stroller, I survey the battleground. I take my job very seriously. Mom is fighting on the front line. Someone needs to keep the soldiers focused and busy. That is my job. So, up and down the gravel drive I go making sure that everyone is doing their part. I even check on Dad as he works on the farm. Sometimes the Queen tries to abandon me in the shop so she can sneak and read her book.One time the Monkey even tried to strand me in an apple tree. No matter because Mom's eagle eye seeks me out and everything is put right. Weeds beware. I, General Boss, will not rest until every last one of you is gone!