Download & Print
May 16, 2024
The Battle of the Brush
By Mikie Baker
The Bandera Prophet
Being a gardener from North Dallas, I was raised a Seasonal Color Girl. In my perfectly manicured beds, I’d plant the flowers of the season to make all my neighbors jealous, so they’d sell their houses, and drive up the comps in the neighborhood.
When I moved to the lovely Hill Country, I had dreams of a beautifully manicured lawn with Seasonal Color that was the envy of the neighborhood, until I discovered rocks and deer. And do you know what is a deer’s favorite dessert? Yep, Seasonal Color.
But when I moved in with My Future Husband, I was introduced to the wild, the Evil Cedar Tree and every wild vine or tree adorned with extra big thorns. But the worst was the (gasp) Curse of the Brush. For you City Folk, brush is small trees and bushes that grow everywhere and never stop. We decided we couldn’t take it anymore, so we staged an attack armed with our best weapons - giant loppers and chainsaws.
This is why God made Aleve.
To begin the Brush War, we gathered our tools and headed down our steep hill to have a good look at the battlefield and the enemy. Uniformed from head to toe in blue denim, work boots, leather gloves, and a sun visor, I perilously perched on a step stool to begin whacking. When I picked up the giant 20-pound (I swear) loppers, I almost lost my balance, but I grabbed some large brush to stay upright. It was a broken leg saver, but I whacked that brush down anyway. Take no prisoners.
After about 10 minutes of wielding 20 pounds of anything, you find that your arms no longer work. That’s when it’s back to base camp for cold iced tea and animal crackers. Rations, you know.
The battle was slow. Over the last few weeks, we’ve attacked in short spurts, to keep the enemy guessing when the 20-pounders are coming for them. This strategy has worked as the battlefield is now littered with downed brush.
One morning, My Future Husband came to my aid. I was about to lopper my way thru a rather thick grove of brush. He commanded, “Move, soldier!”, and with one swipe of his chainsaw, the Commander wiped them all out. It was clearly the Chainsaw Massacre Battle; one to finally end the Brush War.
After all the brush was taken out, it was time to clean up the battlefield once and for all. I came armed with the newest AI technology: a Secret Weapon to keep this land a little more brushless forever. Stump Brush Killer is my new best friend. I believe it is the Nectar of the Gods. Of course, if the Gods drank this, I guess that’s why they’re all dead.
True, this is considered a nuclear weapon in the Brush Business, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I just hope it works better than an Insta-Pot.
The part we haven’t talked yet, because we’re old, is clearing the battlefield. This includes me donning my uniform again and transferring lots of sticky stuff into the back of the pickup truck to haul off to a place they can rest in peace, probably our ranch dump.
I’m going to plant some Giant Sunflowers on the Chainsaw Massacre Battlefield in memory of all that happened there and the good that can come from Flower Power. It might not be “Official Seasonal Color”, but for the Brush War that’s just been fought, we deserve something pretty to look at that deer won’t eat.
When I moved to the lovely Hill Country, I had dreams of a beautifully manicured lawn with Seasonal Color that was the envy of the neighborhood, until I discovered rocks and deer. And do you know what is a deer’s favorite dessert? Yep, Seasonal Color.
But when I moved in with My Future Husband, I was introduced to the wild, the Evil Cedar Tree and every wild vine or tree adorned with extra big thorns. But the worst was the (gasp) Curse of the Brush. For you City Folk, brush is small trees and bushes that grow everywhere and never stop. We decided we couldn’t take it anymore, so we staged an attack armed with our best weapons - giant loppers and chainsaws.
This is why God made Aleve.
To begin the Brush War, we gathered our tools and headed down our steep hill to have a good look at the battlefield and the enemy. Uniformed from head to toe in blue denim, work boots, leather gloves, and a sun visor, I perilously perched on a step stool to begin whacking. When I picked up the giant 20-pound (I swear) loppers, I almost lost my balance, but I grabbed some large brush to stay upright. It was a broken leg saver, but I whacked that brush down anyway. Take no prisoners.
After about 10 minutes of wielding 20 pounds of anything, you find that your arms no longer work. That’s when it’s back to base camp for cold iced tea and animal crackers. Rations, you know.
The battle was slow. Over the last few weeks, we’ve attacked in short spurts, to keep the enemy guessing when the 20-pounders are coming for them. This strategy has worked as the battlefield is now littered with downed brush.
One morning, My Future Husband came to my aid. I was about to lopper my way thru a rather thick grove of brush. He commanded, “Move, soldier!”, and with one swipe of his chainsaw, the Commander wiped them all out. It was clearly the Chainsaw Massacre Battle; one to finally end the Brush War.
After all the brush was taken out, it was time to clean up the battlefield once and for all. I came armed with the newest AI technology: a Secret Weapon to keep this land a little more brushless forever. Stump Brush Killer is my new best friend. I believe it is the Nectar of the Gods. Of course, if the Gods drank this, I guess that’s why they’re all dead.
True, this is considered a nuclear weapon in the Brush Business, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I just hope it works better than an Insta-Pot.
The part we haven’t talked yet, because we’re old, is clearing the battlefield. This includes me donning my uniform again and transferring lots of sticky stuff into the back of the pickup truck to haul off to a place they can rest in peace, probably our ranch dump.
I’m going to plant some Giant Sunflowers on the Chainsaw Massacre Battlefield in memory of all that happened there and the good that can come from Flower Power. It might not be “Official Seasonal Color”, but for the Brush War that’s just been fought, we deserve something pretty to look at that deer won’t eat.