Bamboo

 Today John and I took care of the bamboo. It’s getting big and unruly. It’s one of the unique things about our trailer: there’s a bamboo jungle out front. Years ago (before I moved in) John planted a modest stalk. Years later it would mother a multitude of stalks, now thick and green. You could say it exploded. John loves bamboo. And I read online that snakes do not like bamboo, so that’s good. 

Before I got in the shower this morning, John said to me “when you get out, put on your work clothes.” I said “wood clothes?” He repeated “work clothes.” So I put on my paint-stained khakis and a sleeveless t shirt. John wore carpenter jeans and sandals and carried the Milwaukee radio outside. He trimmed the branches and I took care of the leaves and weeds (just basic yard work). I collected all the Norfolk pine needles into a bucket. John brought over a dolly so I wouldn’t have to carry the buckets to the brush pile, located on the edge of the Elks field. “Try to dump it all in one pile,” he mentioned.  Made sense to me. He showed me how to rake up the bamboo leaves with a shovel, since we lacked a proper rake. It was so much easier with a dolly (as my dad says, “work smarter, not harder”). I pulled the little weeds growing in our gravel driveway. That was satisfying, since they came out easy (except for the ones between the big stones), but uncomfortable for my knees. I was getting tired of making trips to the brush pile, so I said to John that I wanted to stop (after an hour and a half of work). “There’s no rules,” he said. Good. I was dirty and sweaty and would be taking my second shower.

John worked for another hour, collecting and transporting all the bamboo branches I didn’t pick up, and pulling weeds in the backyard. I feel like I don’t have much stamina. Or I might just be, as John said, “allergic to work.”

Late at night, when I’m on the porch, I can hear the cats rustling in the bamboo. It’s the reason snakes don’t like it: they can’t be discreet. Works for me.