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Yard Work as Viewed from Heaven

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(this is long but certainly worth the read)


YARD WORK - AS VIEWED FROM HEAVEN (overheard in a conversation between God and St. Francis):
God: Francis, you know all about gardens and nature; what in the world is going on down there in the U.S.? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistles and the stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought, and multiply with
abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts
butterflies, honeybees, and flocks of songbirds. I expected to
see a vast garden of color by now. All I see are patches of
green.

St. Francis: Itīs the tribes that settled there, Lord. They are
called the Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers
"weeds" and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.

God: Grass? But it is so boring, itīs not colorful. It doesnīt
attract butterflies, be es or birds, only grubs and sod worms.
Itīs temperamental with temperatures. Do these Suburbanites
really want grass growing there?

St. Francis: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it has grown a
little, they cut it....sometimes two times a week.

God: They cut it? Do they bale it like hay?

St. Francis: Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.

God: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?

St. Francis: No sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it
away.

God: Now let me get this straight...they fertilize it to make it
grow and when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it
away?

St. Francis: Yes, sir.

God: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows
the growth and saves them a lot of work.

St. Francis: You arenīt going to believe this Lord, but when the
grass stops growing so fa st, they drag out hoses and pay more
money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.

God: What nonsense! At least they kept some of the trees.
That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself.
The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep the moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. Plus, as they rot, the leaves become compost to enhance the soil. Itīs a natural circle of life.

St. Francis: Youīd better sit down, Lord. As soon as the leaves fall, the Suburbanites rake them into great piles and pay to
have them hauled away.

God: No way! What do they do to protect the shrubs and tree
roots in the winter to keep the soil mois t and loose?

St Francis: After throwing the leaves away, they go out and buy something called mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.

God: And where do they get this mulch?

St. Francis: They cut down the trees and grind them up to make mulch.

God: Enough! I donīt want to think about this anymore.


 


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