Yard Work....

The rain (and my self imposed blog deadline) have cut short today's lawn mowing.  I only managed to get about half of the yard done; which will eat at me until I finish it some time tomorrow morning.  I just hate leaving the yard unfinished; it's like getting only half a haircut.

Actually, I was mowing more weeds and dandelions than grass and I'm not so sure that I didn't see that start of a thistle here and there.

What I find amusing/concerning is that in previous years I didn't care about the appearance of the lawn.  Let nature have it's way, dammit, and I will get to it when I can.  (I even considered getting a couple of goats.  It would be a win/win situation.  The goats get to eat and I get out of mowing........But I'm fairly certain there is an ordinance in place that will prevent that.  Still, it's nice to dream.)

But now that I have time to actually work on my lawn I view it's less than well manicured appearance as a bit of an eyesore.

I must be getting old. I remember when I used to laugh at those old fellas that would water their lawn every day, set out lawn art, and wash their mowers as if they were washing a cadillac.  And now, here I am, standing at the door, coffee cup in hand, watching the rain, and devising plans to make my yard immaculate.

Holy crap......When did I trade my beer and fishing poles for a cup of coffee and a bag of grass seed?  I guess that means I'm only a few steps away from bran muffins and viagra, right? (Wow, that last sentence just planted a rather disturbing visual in my head........"Hold that thought honey, the metamucil just kicked in".......Ugh, God)

I remember when I was a kid my dad would just stand in the driveway and stare at the yard.  He would never say a word, just shake his head in utter disappointment and walk into the house.  You see, my Dad was the father of four boys who all had a knack for destroying everything they touched; and the yard was no exception.

Back in the days before Nintendo all the neighbor kids would get together do this thing called PLAY!!!!  We would all go OUTSIDE and spend hours on end playing games; only coming in to eat, go to the bathroom (optional for boys), or when it was just too dark to see.

My neighborhood had a ton of kids, and they all met at my house to play.  The front yard had bald spots where the pitchers mound and batter's box were.  Of course the bald spots just had to be in the front yard where everyone that drove by could see it.  The reason for our choice of location was that we found a tree root sticking out of the ground that made a perfect pitching rubber.  So not only was there a bald spot but a rut where we kicked out the dirt to get a better push off the root, er, pitching rubber.

Dad tried to get us to move to a different place a couple of times but soon gave up after we did what he asked and promptly shattered two of his garage windows.......Hey, it's not my fault no one could hit my fast ball......

One other thing that my brothers and I did that just drove dad up a wall was cut the heads off of dandelions.  Not the yellow, flowery ones mind you.  No we went after the poofy looking white ones with all the seeds.  We would grab a long, skinny stick and pretend that we were vicious warriors lopping the heads off of our inferior enemies.  To see all the seeds go flying every where after you had savagely separated the head from the stalk was most amusing.  Tim and I could go on all morning cutting the heads off of dandelions.

Then one day Dad came out and saw what we were doing.  Just two little kids in a yard of white, flailing at dandelions; their seeds flying everywhere.

"JESUS CHRIST, STOP THAT!!!!!!  YOU'RE RUINING MY YARD!!!!!"

Yard?  What yard?  I don't see any grass.  All I see are these dandelions.

Somehow, a lesson about cause and effect had gone flying high over our heads.  Dad was kind enough to explain the the situation to us.

"YOU'RE KNOCKING ALL THE SEEDS OFF AND SPREADING SHIT EVERY WHERE DAMMIT........STOP IT!!!"

Oh......well.....okay then.

I shall have to remember to share this story with my kids.  I do not want to suffer the same, sad fate as my poor dad.



The one thing I won't be is that curmudgeon that chases people out of his yard.  I just think that's silly.  But I can totally see Toby being that way when he's old.  I don't know how many times I've seen him look out the window and say, "Who is that?  Why are they walking through our yard?"

The annual town festival, which takes place just downhill at the end of the block, drives Toby particularly nutty.

"Why are they walking through our driveway?  Can't they use the alley or the sidewalk?"

Holy moly....relax, son.....It's not that big a deal.

I can just see it now.  It the future, when Toby has his own home, he will spend his weekends camped out in the front yard like the Black Knight guarding the bridge in Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail.

"None shall pass....."

There were two such black knights in the neighborhood I grew up in.  The little old lady across the street from where I lived claimed she had a twelve gauge filled with rock salt and she would shoot any dog stupid enough to wander into her yard.

Honestly, she was so skinny and frail that none of us took her seriously.  Then one day she planted a round into the ass of one of the neighbors dog and killed it.  That got everyone's (at least all the kids) attention.

I'm sure she wouldn't have shot another human being.....But no kids in the neighborhood were willing to test that theory.

The other black knight had a small yard that was the neighborhoods Bermuda Triangle.  At least with the other lady, she would let us go get our ball if it landed in the yard.  She really was nice.  No, really.  I honestly think she just didn't want any dogs pooping in her yard. (Leash law?  What's that?)

But this old couple, to a kid, were about as mean and scary as they come.  My first encounter with them was when one of our baseballs landed in their yard.  The girl who lived next door warned me about them, but I didn't want to lose my baseball.

I crept to the edge of the black knights yard and tried to peer through their windows.  When I didn't see any one I ran for the ball.  But right before I reached down to get the ball I heard, "Git out!"

I felt a shiver as I turned and looked at the old woman standing behind the screen door. The corners of her mouth were turned down, creating a fearsome grimace. Her glasses were unable to hide a set of eyes that were hard and cold. Through the screen her pale skin gave her an almost ghost like quality.  If someone were tell me that I was staring at an apparition I would have believed them.

"You go on, now." she said.

"Can I....."

"NO.....You git out of this yard or I'll get the pellet gun and put a hole through your hide."

Not another word was said as I hauled ass out of there.  I NEVER went back into that yard again.

I wonder what happened to my baseball?  Probably sitting in a corner with everything else that had the misfortune of landing in that yard.......Man, what a witch.....


But, like I said, that's just silly.  A yard is meant to be admired and enjoyed, dammit.....

Next year......Next year.....

By that time I should have all my plans and finances in order.  It's going to be a great yard. Oh, but with one notable exception......Absolutely no Gnomes.....I can't stand those things.

Yup....Next year.....