I am a Yankee.  No matter how long I live in The South, I will never *really* be southern – I am genuinely ok with that.

Sometimes, my roots show and as LLV is in the final stretch I can see some places where they show a LOT.  For example, grass.  Kiddo and I spent two hours outside this morning at the park and in the yard.  I wore sandals with a lot of open spaces, and I sat down in the grass whenever I felt like it.  It was soft, and lush, and I would occasionally pet it like it was a big dumb dog sitting next to me.

I never. ever. ever. do that in the South.  Ever.

I can’t even imagine doing that.

The grass around my house is normal southern grass of varieties that can do well in crazy heat and erratic rain.  It has the potential to look lovely from the street.  It is hard and sharp.  It harbors fire ants and scorpions (at least I assume they travel through the grass because they get in my house somehow).  It is alive with things that think I am awful.

Fire ants

Fire ants (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I react to fire ants, more so than most people I know.  My longest reaction to a single fire ant bite was on the order of MONTHS.  I blister and weep when they bite, they itch for weeks under the best of circumstances and are visible for longer than that.  They give me the creeps and I FREAK out when they are on me (or on kiddo).  I cannot imagine just lounging around in the grass in our yard.

The last time I was at the house by myself I decided to give myself a little gift in the way of a giant container of Death From Above.  I treated eighteen ant hills in my yard (including two that choked the lawnmower).  It looks promising, like I made a dent at least.

I am really glad that I had a good morning for lounging in the grass today.