Today marked 13 years since Charles (Charlie, Dad, Papa Krugh, Uncle Charlie) Krugh passed away after a very tough series of battles with cancer, heart disease, and the killer, diabetes. He continues to be missed every day by his sons and daughter, (and daughter-in-law) and by grandchildren who hardly got to know him before he was gone. His quiet, gentle, honest, and often humorous approach to the business he built “from scratch” continues to be the gold standard by which we strive to operate Krugh Insurance Agency. Even after so many years of trying to get used to it, we still find it hard to find comfort in “Rest in Peace.”
With the arrival of early summer in our little corner of Clark County comes the insistent buzzing whine of the Weed Whacker. From every fence row, around every tree and shrub, it works its deadly way across lawns, along sidewalks, and much, much too close to flower beds. In careless hands, the helpful handy weed-whacker can quickly become hazardous to the operator’s health. Many of the same safety precautions for riding, push, or zero-turn mowers also apply to their smaller cousins, whether gas or electric-powered. Most importantly, dress for the occasion: heavy long pants, long sleeved shirt, sturdy shoes or boots, gloves, and safety glasses. No doubt about it, it’s gonna be a hot, sweaty task, but hopefully not a bloody one. And, as when mowing, always keep kids and pets away from the action.
Although the operator’s manual on our new Black & Decker “Remington” model doesn’t address this issue, I’d like to add another safety hazard concerning weed whackers in careless hands: the possibility of personal injury such as a kick in the gluteus maximus or a dope-slap to the head from the gardener whose beautiful but slow-growing wisteria has been discovered hanging lifeless from its fence. Two feet tall, two feet wide, several gorgeous blue flower panicles already drooping from its little baby branches. Guarded from the riding mower by three two-foot lengths of fireplace wood. Been there in that same spot for three years now, just like the clematis vine on the six-foot ornamental iron trellis at the north end of the front porch. Three clematis vines, actually, one per summer, each one planted in that same really sneaky spot, next to the trellis. “Didn’t see ‘em. Because of the weeds…”
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