ONE BIG BLISTER

Blisters are a sign of soft hands, unproven toughness, or maybe determined effort. I am not a sissy, but I will admit my hands are more girly than manly, at least in callouses. All of that showed up this past weekend after several days of working in our yards pulling out dead grass left from a harsh winter.

Even though I was wearing gloves, before I knew it, I wore a terrible blister on my left thumb from raking and pulling weeds and dead grass out of our front yard. Some of our neighbors have put new grass in replacing the old, but Wanda and I are hoping that by hand thatching the dead grass out and placing sprigs that we will have a luscious green yard shortly.

Obtaining life's best sometimes makes for harsh blisters. Maybe I should have had better gloves, or worked with better care. I don't know. But I believe the hard work will pay off soon.

Nothing comes easy in life--not even green grass.

Oh, that reminds me. I heard someone say that the grass on your side of the fence might be greener if you watered it more. There is a parable there somewhere.

I think I will water my grass more. That would be easier than hunting greener grass elsewhere even with the added blisters.