She’d let the dandelions go unchecked too long. Creeping Charlie was on the march, cannons of blue and green vines poised, ready to trip the unwary.
Nevertheless, she persisted. There were city ordinances and fines to deal with.
She donned her uniform of baggy shorts, stained t-shirt, and tennies from a prior decade. A colossus in her own mind, she revved the lawnmower, bearing down with a determined grimace.
Hours later, she emerged, victorious.
Shedding shoes, leaving a trail of grass and dust, she cracked open the ‘fridge.
No ice for her water, but at least it was wet.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2019)
Carrot Ranch Prompt (05/23//19): In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story without ice. It can be a world without ice or a summer camp that runs out of cubes for lemonade. What does the lack mean to the story? Go where the prompt leads!
Valley of the Trolls 
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She persisted! And rehydrated. I was a rebel when I lived in Minnesota, growing pumpkins among the dandelions, tomatoes in the flower beds. I had to be wary of those regulations, but lines, as well as lawnmowers, can be pushed. 😉
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I got thirsty just reading about the victorious lawn mower, Liz. No ice necessary.
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Skol!!
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Beautiful story in so few words.
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Thank you!
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How quickly we go from those piles of snow to weeds and grass cutting. I sure know what you described, though I detest ice in my water.
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Cool and hydrated…that’s what we need!
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