Let’s just start with the dream – the dream to have a yard that doesn’t look like a four year old wielded her black thumb and populated all the flower beds with spiky leaved weeds. It doesn’t sounds so difficult, right? I just want a yard that looks nice — nothing crazy, but generally attractive.
I started a couple months ago trimming back all the plants that needed to be hacked off at the roots, clearing all the dead crap (consider this an official term) out of the flower beds and overall cleaning things up. It looked good, or about as good as dead/hibernating plants and dirt can look. Plus it was easy peasy – no bugs, no new weed growth, no nothing. As it’s warmed up I’ve held on to the dream with garden-gloved, clenched fists. But each day I step in to tackle the seeming insurmountable amount of yard work outside my door, I’m confronted with a trial that pushes me to want to surrender the whole project on the spot.
Trial 1: Spiders. Guys, I’m terrified of spiders. When I say terrified, I don’t know if you can get the full body shaking, crying, anxiety inducing fear that fills me each time I see one of those satan spawned creatures. I’m pulling weeds and one of those little heathens comes racing toward me in an all out war to protect its home. Usually they meet the pointy end of my shovel and their war is quickly settled… but up in to that point it’s ALL fear.
Trial 2: Cat poop. I have a dog. I pick up dog poop. But, here’s the thing, it’s MY dog’s poop. I don’t have a cat and therefore do not want to pick up cat poop. When I go to plant my flowers only to find that the dirt in my planter isn’t clumpy after all… that those clumps are actually string after string of cat poop. That I stuck my [bare] hand in. Then, I’m not a fan.
Trial 3: Power Tools. I may or may not have sliced my finger up something fierce while trying to chop up a hedge with some electric clipper. So, I’m bleeding… and it hurts. I prefer not to break myself. (Note: I did not slice myself up with the sander… but it’s the only picture I have of a power tool in use. If a sander even counts as a power tool.)
Trial 4: Threat of more bugs. As if Trial 1 isn’t enough… and that my fear of spiders is really a fear of all bugs (exceptions: honey bees, rolly pollies and lady bugs), there are always threats of more bugs. Most recently Christian has assured me that our tomato plants will be covered in tomato bugs that are not only disgusting, but resemble the MASSIVE caterpillars we saw in Dominica this spring. Shiver.
So, from now on, here’s the plan. I’m ripping out (er, Christian is ripping out – see Trial 1) the stupid bush where I cut my hand. From there, I don’t know. Plant some flowers after the cat poop is removed by me? Or Christian? And then, who knows? Maybe I’ll embrace it or give it up all together?