Sticker Season

I know it's a pretty bad picture.  I am probably one of the last people on earth who doesn't own one of the fancier, newest, latest, and greatest cameras.  I always use my phone and hence some blurry pics.  I think you can see the little spikes on this teeny tiny ball of fun, though.

Every July and August we look forward to this great event we call Sticker Season.  It causes all kinds of whoops and yelps of pain.  If you ever want to see a person walking normally and then suddenly stop, fall, or hop around while yelling "ow!", then you should C'mon Down to Texas! 

Since we are lucky enough to own property in the country it gives us a VERY BIG yard.  The problem with VERY BIG yards in the country is the upkeep.  There's lots of mowing..and rocks...and the heat.  The Stickers have figured us out.  By this time of the summer we are sick of mowing.  It's too hot.  We're busy.  We don't care.  The "grass" is dying anyway.  It's not even really grass.  Then the Stickers appear.

They are tiny, hard, and barbed.  They attach themselves to everything.  They jump onto you like little hitch hikers.  They anxiously await to jump off of you onto your carpet or your brand new bathroom rugs that took you 5 years to get a new one.  Ahem..  They are the main reason you are taking out all the carpet in your house.  Not that the carpet is nicknamed Flea Bag Rag.  It's to keep out the little ambushers.  They mock your vacuum cleaner.  That weak thing!  They will only be forcefully evicted having to use fingers, tweezers, and scissors.

I also do something terrible because of the Stickers.  I eat them.  No I don't.  I just thought that would shock you.  I park my car on the lawn very close to the front door.  This way I don't have to walk far.  I just don't like the way it looks.  Not many people in the country see your car in your yard anyway.  Unless it's a yard ornament.

Speaking of yard ornaments, I have a neighbor way down at the other end who has a hedgerow of cactus.  That's not unusual, I have my own cactus.  However, he takes the time to make smiley faces in the big "leaves."  So when I drive to town and pass his house there's all these smiling cactus looking at me.  He's an artist.  We call him Mr. T.  He looks like Mr. T.  His dog look likes Mr. T., too.  He's a nice guy.

Today I'm going to see another plant, maybe.  Feeling a little lazy.  I might hop over to the Lavender Festival.  I'm betting they don't have stickers.