Was planning to go up to Wendell, a decent climb, but decided in the first couple of minutes I didn't need a "decent climb" so up and down the valley it was. Just right.
There seems to be a movement in certain parts of the world, Ratlum Mountain to be specific, to bring the machines of the Industrial Revolution, though perhaps in more modern and powerful versions, to bear against the forces of evil.
The forces of evil in this case being the lowly mountain laurel plant.
I have been thinking about this, wondering if we should engage Mr. Charlie and his superb assistant Zack to spend some time in Sunderland wrangling our collection of mountain laurel, reducing it to a more manageable, and probably more enjoyable, amount.
First things first, do a survey, see how much laurel there is, and document it. That way Charlie and Zack will know how long they'll have to be here, and what they should charge.
The survey didn't take long, On our roughly 14 acres there is one laurel plant. It is right by the side of the driveway. We have been here almost 34 years. It has been here at least that long. We are old and looking a little worse for wear. So is it.
I determined that wrangling it should not take more than a minute. A snip for each of the two stems, and then chip-chip-chip and it's done.
The problem is, of course, that while orienteering has developed a distinct dislike in me of all things laurel, it seems there is an exception, and that is for "our" laurel.
Because one is the perfect number of laurel plants. It is fewer than all the other possibilities, including Charlie's gazillion plants, which is certainly good, but it is also more than zero, and that is also good. It places no demands on us. We don't water it, or feed it, or prune it, or hardly even notice it.
But when we do notice it, it always gives pleasure.
So no wrangling here, OK?