How sod! particularly when Rob comes along and finds Satchel cutting the grass with a pair of nail clippers. He looks up at Rob and laments, "That's all; there isn't any mower."
TEd comes to the fescue
(edited slightly)
I seed that coming.
you can tuck 'e self back into the bluegrass now...
Oh, Ted, if you keep on being so punny I'm sure alfalfa you.
I was going to make some rye remarks, but gorse all mighty, I aaid to myself, what if she's serious? After all, I promised myself to Peggy, with a tune from Camelot playing in the background (If heather I would leave you...)
It might be turf, but I prairie you to remember that I wouldn't try to bamboo-zle you just for a few yuccas.
I pasture clover remark on to a friend of mine and he said to look in Timothy for inspiration.
TEd (who thinks mulch of you anyway)
Good grief. ~ with apologies to Charles M. Schultz
Oh, Ted, what savanna with you? I think sow mulch of yew, also. You are so sage, you can buffalo me any time; oats sod I say thyme? I know you gave Peggy your goldenrod, and I'm sure she enZoyzia; did sumac you tell me to get off? Meadow I should stick to Bluegrass.
Llano, the plain truth is it's pasture bedtime. Or is it pampas of me to say that?
And who told YOU about my goldenrod???
And who told YOU about my goldenrod???
SIGH...have you already forgotten the pictures you sent?