O Stick, troublesome Stick. You stand tall in our soil-challenged ditch. You are ugly. There is no easy way to tell you that.
You bestow your pink ribbon in pieces all over our yard and you are an obstruction for sun-baked homeowners trying to mow without mishap.
Maybe I am judging you too harshly. Perhaps you are just a marker; target practice for our gun-toting neighbors, a place where digging may bring gold or other precious metals, or the actual burial place of Jimmy Hoffa.
You have had some shining moments. You broadcast the wind direction with great ease. You are an ice-breaker for conversations with the neighbors.
You must be something special. Strange pickup trucks deposit round-bellied workers with low-riding jeans to honor your presence.
But Stick, I tire of you. You are on your last days as a yard ornament.
Photo credit: Reffie's ditch, surveyor stick that has been in place for about six weeks: Reffie