I never thought I’d confess that raking the yard would be fun.
Today, we did yardwork. Over 70 degrees outside, sunny, and damn does the yard look like crap. Of course, nothing had been done to it since mid-August of 2004, so I suppose that’s not too surprising. Still, something had to be done.
So we raked up the fall’s leaves, cleared out what appears to be a perennial garden in the front, spread out some filler grass seed in a few spots, sprinkled wildflower mix on some steepish slopes to the sidewalk, washed the car (!!), and watered over the new seeds with plant food. Next week, yet more lawn work.
Now, when I was young, I grumbled and whined and generally tried to avoid having to do yard work. “What’s a few leaves, Dad? Sheesh.” Like so many things, now I understand. Just had to wait for the snow to melt to hit this realization. (Well, we still have a miniature berm of snow along the garage … more like ice, really, but it’s shaded most of the day, so will probably be with us until the end of May.)
The work that’s not going to happen this year is the conversion of our multiplicity of parking spaces into more yard-like spaces. I mean, it’s nice to have parking spots and shit, but we can fit more cars in our driveway and associated spaces than we could fit on our old block in Brooklyn. That’s just wrong. And it’s not that we’d be knocking down growing areas — all that space is ALREADY car-ready hardpack. Ideas welcomed.
Enough writing, time to go sit on the porch, drink beer, stare at birds, and listen to the river.
