- I must confess I weed my driveway

This post is dedicated to Deb Sposa, a KINDRED SPIRIT who shares my belief that working out at a gym can't hold a candle to working out in the yard.

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I am forever writing blog posts in my head and fortunately many never make it onto the "paper" that is this blog. But one post insists on being written and I'm finally giving in so the words will stop echoing in my head:

"I weed my driveway ... "

all three hundred feet of it ... a twisting, turning 15-20 foot wide football field full of weeds. Plus two turn outs the size of end zones.

I weed them by hand ... no Roundup or other easy fixes. Surely this penchant for pulling up grass is a vestige of the East Coast aesthetic I grew up with, although it's odd that I am so focused on pulling up stray clumps of grass that are anchoring the loose gravel ...

while turning a totally blind eye to the uncut prairie grasses just inches away ...

Likewise, my eye ignores the wildflowers that are growing up through the limestone road base: thimble flowers ...

mealy blue sage ...

and Mexican feather grass ...

Okay, I'm glad I got that out of my system. Time to go pull some more weeds ...

Dam rocks at the end of the driveway prevent washouts during gulley washers
and have enabled the prairie grasses and wildflowers to thrive in the field beyond