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June 30, 2005

Stacy: Invasive Schminvasive

He hefted the machete, whacked experimentally at some foliage, then, confident of his swing, began chopping in earnest. The pungent fragrance of the cut leaves filled the air around them, making their eyes sting and water.

She followed gingerly behind him, careful to avoid the cut ends and the oozing sap, which could raise blisters on unprotected skin.

He cut a few more feet and they were through, into sudden sunlight. They collapsed on a bench, sweaty and tired, leaves stuck to various spots.

He glared at her, “You’re the one who wanted to plant peppermint in the back yard.”

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