Yucca, Yucca, Yucca

Special thanks to MASTER GARDENER suzanne1943!

Desolate. The last remnants of the old west, right here in my dying yard. A reminder nothing lives forever. A Morricone whistle is heard in the air, the faint screech of a falcon, a close up of a scorpion seeking shade from the hot, hot sun.

Gone are the embarrassing overgrown skeletal attack-shrubs, also the stupid bark and the stupid tattered ground cloth flapping in the wind like a deserted clothesline in a ghost town. Gone is the embarrassment, period.

Welcome to the wasteland.