So, you want to know how I hurt my hand?
The "big one," ech? Well, yes, but not
of the aquatic variety.
Actually, it all started six years ago when
we moved back to Olathe, Kansas. My husband
Cary REALLY wanted to bring some of Virginia
back to the mid west, so "we" brought 24 little,
innocent ivy leaves, all in little rooting pots...
24 little freeking leaves! (excuse me...I digress).
So I carefully plant each of the leaves, nurture
them, coddle them, fertilize them…well, you get
the picture. The first year was fine. The second,
I removed about 1/2 a yard bag of "excess" vine-ing.
The amounts double for each consecutive year. Last
year there were about 4 full bags.
Meanwhile, Cary is feeding the birds...about 40
pounds of seed every couple weeks.
We have mounds of ivy; beautiful, green, lush ivy.
We have fat, happy birds. We have...arraggahh...
mongo field mice!...sunning themselves on our patio!
The size of a Saint Bernard! Happily feasting
on the excess birdseed dropped into the ivy by
the birds, that has been piled into the feeder,
by Cary, in great quantities. Cary freaks.
He refuses to go out on the patio. Traps are
set...by me...mice are removed...by me. When
it is once again safe to venture out, Cary puts
Decon in the ivy. Mice appear to have departed
(operative word "appear").
Bird feeding continues.
When we return from South Dakota, the mice are
bigger than that St. Bernard. That's it! The
ivy must be brought under control! Does Cary
help me? Does he even feel he may have had some
input into the situation? Hell, no. Not a big
deal...but keep in mind, Cary has laced the ivy
with multiple packets of Decon.
When you have your hands all wound up in, and
firmly gripping ivy, that has roots the size
of an oak tree, and you lift up little bitsy,
bleached-white, back and rib bones, and a tuft
of gray fur in that tangle of ivy...well, you
have a tendency to move your hands really fast!
Thus, ripping tendons in two fingers, and down
into my hand. (Then, add insult to injury...
I dislocated my ring finger, middle knuckle,
trying to remove my ring, after waking the next
morning to find my fingers so swollen they
wouldn't bend, and my finger turning blue.)
Just after ripping my hands out of the ivy, I
unmercifully grabbed a shovel, and took out
every freeking bit of ivy I could find and
filled in the area with nice, clean,
sweet-smelling mulch!
Still have birds coming to visit, but I haven't
seen a mouse since then.
All because of 24 little, tiny leaves. And that's
how I hurt my hand! ~ Betty H.
