Salsola Pestifera

I hate frickin' tumbleweeds.

It's mid-autumn, which means cool nights and warm days. The monsoon - a fairly wet one this year - has pretty much gone away. Which means the tumbleweeds are mature, and oh, we got us a bumper crop.

Tumbleweeds only seem to grow in any profusion where the ground's been broken up, like if you dug a septic pit or tore up ground for a building foundation - All things that have happened a lot, here and there on the property. Each seed has a wicked little thorn, and the seeds start falling off before the plants die and break off. Which means walking anywhere but virgin ground or really packed-down trails is like walking on a carpet of caltrops. No big deal on shod feet unless your soles are really worn out, but it's hell on the dogs. No day goes by that I don't have a couple of three-legged dogs hobbling about and looking miserable. Poor Ghost must have picked up dozens of them and his pads are getting really tender. Crossing hard-pack, he looks like an old guy mincing across hot beach sand.

It happens every year, but as with so many things it's worse some years than others. This has been the summer of the housefly, weevil, and tumbleweed. Next year I'm looking forward to unicorns, Skittle showers, and chocolate toads.