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Ode to Bermuda Grass
by Carl Wayne



              Mowing the yard is an Augean task
              Sisyphus could not have striven more
              I struggle in vain against Bermuda grass
              And wish I had a riding mower.

              Pendragon's search for the holy grail
              Could not have been greater travail
              Than keeping Bermuda out of flower beds
              Their tendrils growing faster than snails.

              Lord Byron's swim acoss the Hellespont
              Bruce's and Wallace's fights on the moor
              Could not have had half the dread
              Of Bermuda creeping close to my door.

              Like Medusa's head the tendrils do grow
              They slither in Laocoon coils
              Keeping them trimmed and edged and mowed
              Is more than Hercules' toils.

              I wish it grew only Lilliputian height
              And spread not in flower beds sublime
              And I need mow they little bitty heads,
              About twice a year would be fine.


              The end...


    __________________________


    Carl Wayne Hardeman is now a Master Gardener specializing in lawn naturalization. He says, “Just don’t mow, water or fertilize.” He also excels at nutgrass propagation (“spray it with Roundup and it will spread wildly”).

    Carl Wayne tells us about himself:
    "I write gardening articles for the Collierville, Tennessee, Independent, the Southaven, Mississippi, Press, and Desoto Magazine, all from a Southern perspective. I point out the correct pronunciation of ants (aints) and peonies (peOnies) and advise always to plant hydrangeas on the north side of the house. I've been in software development forty years, the last twenty with a large overnight express delivery company. I have taught computer science as adjunct faculty at local universities over twenty-five years. We have a small farm in Pontotoc County, Mississippi, where we raise a large garden with my in-laws. My in-laws were there when the REA strung the first electric wires in that area. They were killing hogs. That night for supper they had liver and lights."

Write Carl Wayne at this e-mail address: Rows of Buttercups


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