Gloves and Hard Graft

Yesterday I bought some annuals to begin filling my pots and hanging baskets.  I know it's early, even here in southern Oregon, but the store was having a big sale and it's been warm and temperate for days now.  I set the little containers in the back to harden off, then got to work clearing the slope where I want to sprinkle packets of wildflowers in the--no doubt forlorn--hope that a profusion of flowers will overtake the Triffid weeds.

A small section of the bank.  To be fair, part of the greenery are self-seeding California Poppies, which I'm leaving.  They're really cheerful, bright orange and a wildflower.  Unfortunately, the other part of the green is firmly entrenched rubbish...

It's going to take days to make any headway here.  I worked and slaved and dug and yanked.  It wasn't until I took a break that I realized: here was irrefutable proof I was working my fingers to the bone...well, wearing out my gloves anyway.

Don't they look like gorilla hands?  These were my favorite gloves.  I've had them since Edinburgh.  They fit perfectly, tightened around my wrists to stay on no matter what chore I was doing, and used to be a brilliant red that I loved.

The tiny drops were from the rain that was just starting to fall, which actually saved me from carrying on.  I washed up and went back to the store and bought these...

I'm not a fan of pink, but these were the only gloves that tightened at the wrist and had leather fingers.  They'll do.  Besides, by the time I finish weeding that bugger slope, I'll probably need another pair anyway...

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N.B.  Forgot to mention that, of course, after I decided it was safe, the temperature dropped into the low 30s last night.  There are now heavy frost warnings for the next several days.  It's all my fault.  I never should have bought those plants...