For the past two days, the girls and I have been doing more clearing in the parking lot at the Shop. This involves digging out weeds from the cracks in the tarmac, removing tons of dirt, in different stages of decomposition, cutting down branches that hang over the parking lot, loading, then unloading all of the above on the next door block which adjoins the Shop Block (Another story for another time).
A strong westerly has been blowing, resulting in many dusty, puffy mini whirlwinds, causing havoc with our tender sinuses. It's really gruesome, - digging, raking and loading soil, leaves, twigs and pushing wheelbarrows, while our hands are tied and noses are running. As if that isn't bad enough, there are about five flies at one sitting, feeding on said snot.
Yes, really gruesome.
Fortunately, we were finished by midday, just in time for lunch. Later, though, the Machinist and I returned to the Shop, to trim and mow the Grand's garden, as well as spray poison on tiny tufts of grass that have started to show on a previously weeded side of the parking lot. As the Machinist sprayed the Roundup on troublesome spots, I walked alongside him, telling him how to spray ... as well as pointing out areas that he had missed.
Ha! Just kidding...
Half way through the ghostbusting.. er ... I mean weed spraying, the sprayer stopped working. The Machinist disassembled the various parts of the sprayer, but couldn't find any reason for its refusal to work. He was utterly baffled.
Poison Content: check
Pressure pump: check
Release valve: check
Spray wand: check
Spray nozzle: check
Lizard floating in poison:
Sure enough - there was a tiny lizard, clogging up the top of the inner tube.
And with that, the Machinist emptied the rest of the poison (and tiny lizard) over a stubborn cluster of blackberry roots and plum tree stump and we called it a day.