Once I was done, I was sunburned (proper sunscreen application having gone horribly, horribly wrong, despite an actual attempt), sore, stiff, and spent. Thankfully, the Man-Cub pulled in just as I was finishing up; he took one look at the copius amount of weed scattered around the flowerbeds and immediately told me to go inside while he raked and bagged the bastards up.
I was seriously grateful.
And, sore. And stiff. And, spent.
A liberal dose of ibuprofen later, I ventured to the yard to cut peonies and to revel in the beauty of weed-free flowerbeds.
That feeling will last only as long as it takes the bindweed to stage its comeback. So...I probably have about five minutes left.
Have I mentioned I hate bindweed?
Before the de-weeding...
After the de-weeding
Damn you to hell, bindweed.