Zen and the Art of Grass-plucking

During the cool of the early morning or the late evening, I stand and patiently pluck tall fescue from the raised bed where I planted 80 cloves of garlic. Oh, yes, the largest garlic bed ever in my gardening history.

From south to north, the garlic types are Italian Red Rocombole, Chesnok Red, and Music. Yes, it is a new bed. No, I didn't do anything differently when planting the garlic. Until, that is, I decided to cover with wheat straw last fall.

And no, not wheat that is coming up.

The trick is to reach midway down the grass stem with thumb and index finger and yank upward in a quick motion. Stem by stem by stem, in a 4x8 bed with a lot of grass growing. A lot of grass.

Yank, and a release roots and all. If not distracted by bluebirds flying to their condo. Or geese coming in overhead. Then the tall stem may snap in half. No roots in hand.

Yank, release. Yank, release. Head down, yank and release. 

Yank, release. Wonder if the foxes are out. Snap. Yank, release. Yank, release. Listen to the geese squabbling. Snap. Snap. 

Okay, focus. Yank, release. Yank release. Yank, release. 

Sometimes I wander away and attend to other yard matters. The next trip by the bed, I'll yank on a few stems. Concentrate. Yank, release. Yank, release. Snap. 

Dammit.

I try to maintain a certain kind of patience, just the one grass stem, ignoring the dozens and dozens and dozens of other stems. Yank, release. Yank, release.

A slow progress. A single stem. Again and again. Just that one stem. Yank, release. Yank, release. Yank, release.

Sounds kind of zen.

No, not really.

Snap.